Page 13 of Ugly Truths
Wrong.
“I—I think I’m going to start on dinner,” I blurt, pulling away from him. He flinches. “It’s my turn tonight, remember?” I add, though the words sound hollow.
Before he can respond, I’m crawling off the opposite side of the bed and across the room, putting as much distance between us as I can. My heart is pounding so hard that my body vibrates. I fumble with the handle. “I’ll, uh, let you know when it’s ready.”
And just like that, I’m gone. My feet move on instinct, carrying me down the hall and toward the stairs, but the distance doesn’t help. The pulse hammering in my ears is loud enough to drown out everything else.
Have I read this all wrong?
My thoughts scramble, desperate to land on something solid—any moment, any memory that hinted at more than friendship between us. Even back when we were stuck together for nearly a week in that apartment in California years ago, there was nothing but mutual respect. We left on good terms and an unspoken promise to have each other’s backs. It wasn’t until this spring that our conversations started to feel deeper. But even then, it felt safe. Steady.
Did I miss something? Or did something change?
No—maybe I’m reading too much into this. Maybe this has nothing to do with Luis at all, and I’m so wrecked from Silas that even the smallest gesture of affection feels like a betrayal. Like accepting kindness from someone else means letting go of a man who probably doesn't even care if I’m alive anymore.
My stomach knots as I step into the kitchen, the bright afternoon light pooling in through the windows. I take a shaky breath, willing my hands to stop trembling.
Get it together.
No matter how many times I say it, the pressure in my chest doesn’t budge.
Chapter 6
Silas
The hot coffee that burns down the back of my throat does little to distract from the way my frustration has been building with every passing minute.
Across the conference table, Davey scrolls through his tablet, the glow from the screen reflecting off his reading glasses. Neither of us says a word. I set my mug down with a bit too much force before running a hand through my hair.
My father is late. Again.
We’re heading into Q4, and there’s still so much to finalize before the executive transition in the new year. Since the board signed off on the paperwork with a definitive date, William treats these meetings like they’re optional. I’ve been doing my best to manage my temper around him lately, but it’s a Herculean effort.
With a deep breath, I lean back in my chair. The irony isn't lost on me that despite everything, I owe him more than ever. I’m thankful that he saw what I couldn’t. That Scarl—Elena—was using me. He might not know that she is the reason those warehouses went up in flames, but he knows she left town only a couple of weeks after he cast her out of our “family” dinner.
But it’s almost impossible to be grateful when William seems intent on testing me at every turn, with those goddamn servers being at the top of the list.
They’ve been a thorn in my side since June. William oversaw their relocation and security. At first, I was too murderous about Elena to care much at all, but now, I don't know what to think. Even Davey hasn’t been able to get much information from him. The fact that I’ve been shut out only fuels my need to find whatever Elena thought he was hiding in them.
The door swings open, yanking me from my thoughts. My father strides in with his advisor, Brenden, trailing behind like a shadow.
“Apologies for the delay,” William says, though there’s nothing apologetic about his tone. He sets his leather portfolio on the table and unbuttons his jacket.
There’s an unshakable certainty that the world will snap in half to accommodate my father. I used to try to emulate the charisma he wields like a sword and can turn on in the drop of a hat, but forcing myself into a skin that didn’t fit never worked. For him, he doesn’t need to even think about it. It justis.
Although I mostly resemble my mother in appearance, there’s no denying the similarities between my father and me. Especially our eyes—dark brown, sharp, unrelenting. His, because he expects the world to fall in line voluntarily. Mine, because I know I’ll have to bend it to my will.
“It’s fine,” I respond, my voice tight. “Let’s get started. We need to finalize the plans for Q4 and iron out some of the transition details.”
William waves a hand dismissively as he finally takes his seat. “We have time for that. I’ll still be here after the end of the year to assist with the transition. There’s no need to rush.”
I grit my teeth. “I’d prefer to have as much squared away beforehand as possible, especially because we're about to announce it to the public at the end of the week. Our team needs continuity and stability.”
He leans back. “Stability doesn’t happen overnight, Silas. It’s a process that I’ll oversee when the time comes.”
I exhale sharply. “I’d also like an update on the servers. It’s been months, and I still don’t know where things stand.”
A flicker of annoyance crosses his face. “The servers are secure,” he says, giving nothing else.
