Page 14 of Ugly Truths
“They’re an essential step to ensure transparency during the transition,” Davey cuts in before I can respond. I glance at him, surprised. William raises a brow, the faintest lift, but Davey doesn’t back down.
“Silas can’t do his job properly without complete infrastructure access,” my brother-in-law continues, setting his tablet down. “And from a procedural standpoint, I also need that access for the audits. If we’re expected to conduct a proper review, we can’t do that with blind spots.”
Brenden shifts in his seat, eyes darting to William. My father has been pushing to skip the audits for weeks now, arguing that my current level of involvement is sufficient. I’ve refused every time.
Skipping a standard procedure during a leadership transition would send the wrong message to our teams, and too much has surfaced recently to justify overlooking anything.
It’s been small but significant things. The first was a quiet restructuring of the R&D division, and then a last-minute renegotiation with one of our largest raw material suppliers. Both are technically within my father’s authority based on our bylaws, but the way he dismissed my concerns about the entire board being left in the dark didn't sit well with me.
Apparently, he and Brenden have been holding out hope I’d change my mind.
William adjusts the cuff of his shirt. “I won’t lie,” he says finally, voice smooth as glass. “The tone here catches me off guard. I didn’t expect this level of urgency or mistrust. Especially from you,” he adds, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly on my Davey. “When I offered you your current role, I assumed we were aligned on preserving stability; not manufacturing alarm where none exists.”
My blood heats at the insinuation, but Davey only nods, unbothered.
“I agree. Stability should be the priority,” he replies, “and the best way to ensure it is by following the standard procedures every company in our position would take during an executive transition.”
William’s jaw tightens. Davey pays it no mind as he continues.
“As the future CSO—” he begins, then glances at me. I give a single nod. The board vote is a formality. He’ll have the title by the end of Q1 of next year. “As the future CSO, we both need to be fully briefed on all critical infrastructure. If I’m going to be accountable for our security posture, I need full visibility.”
William’s expression hardens for just a breath before he hides it behind a polished, controlled smile. “Well,” he replies, “that’s quite the response. Spoken like a true leader.”
My father’s gaze flicks between Davey and me. I can see the calculation behind it—he’s searching for a way to pivot, but there isn’t one. Not without making this harder on himself in the long run.
He exhales quietly, the faintest concession. “Brenden will send over the details. I expect you to keep this information confidential, just as we did with the warehouse.”
“Thank you,” Davey answers with the slightest hint of relief in his voice. “We’ll review the information as soon as it’s sent.”
William nods, already standing even though he just arrived. “I’ll leave you to your Q4 planning, then.”
Brenden rises wordlessly, following William out of the room. The door clicks shut behind them, followed by a short silence.
“That was telling,” Davey says cautiously.
I push back my chair, leaning as far back as it allows while my mind churns. “Agreed.”
Before June, I might have thought my father was being his usual, paranoid self. Now, I have Elena's letter screaming in the recesses of my mind, reminding me of what she was trying to do that night. Was she onto something, or was it another elaborate ruse to divide my family further?
Either way, I don't like it.
Chapter 7
Elena
It’s a cloudy afternoon when I get back from Breckenridge. I've been sitting in the truck, staring at the porch of my temporary home for at least ten minutes. The engine is off, but I can’t bring myself to move.
Things between Luis and me have been awkward. Most of it’s my fault. He’s been giving me space. No jokes that could be misread, no lingering glances or unnecessary touches. Just quiet kindness and a little small talk. It hasn’t exactly made it easier to figure out what—if anything—he’s feeling toward me. Maybe I’ve just built a narrative in my head that doesn’t exist.
Still, the distance has helped a little. Enough for me to breathe and try to understand why my reaction was so visceral in the first place.
I love Luis, I really do. The kind that comes from showing up without being asked, from listening without judgment, from making space for silence without trying to fill it.
Luis has been that for me. Constant in a way that’s unbalanced and completely undeserved. He’s become one of the most important people in my life, but even with all the closeness we’ve built, there’s no current under my skin when he’s near. No part of me that reaches for him without thinking. No pull. No ache.
With Silas, everything was sharp, consuming, and overwhelming in a way that felt impossible to outrun. It wasn’t always good, and Godknows it wasn’t always healthy, but it was undeniable.The kind of connection that sank its teeth in and didn’t let go.
Some days, I wonder if that was my one big, messy, all-consuming love. The one that burned too hot, too fast, too beautifully, and the only thing left to do was let it die. Maybe I’m broken now. Or I’ve just changed.
