Page 88 of Ugly Truths
Brenden definitely knows. Jeremy is still a wild card. I can see my father waiting until Jeremy’s in a position of power first before bringing him completely into the fold.
Could Randall Harrington know? He clung to his board seat after retiring as CLO, always loyal to my father. His legal advice would be indispensable for the mess William created.
Was this their way of keeping tabs on things?
Davey adds, “The money funding the facility is likely in offshore accounts. I’m not going to have the details until I can sift through all of this, but that’s the clearest picture we have right now.”
The pain in my chest leaves room for nothing else, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Visions of desperate people, drawn to these shell companies for hope, flash behind my eyelids. I blink.
Getting lost in that won’t help anyone or anything.
“We're going to fix this,” I assure them, catching each of their gazes. “But we can’t go public with it.”
The room tenses at my words, but I press on, “Going public would trigger thousands of lawsuits and bleed Wells dry. We wouldn’t be able to compensate the victims properly, and we’d have to lay off thousands of people. We need to maintain enough control to rectifywhat we can and minimize the damage.”
Paul’s voice crackles through the speaker. “That’s a bit too convenient for your family.”
“Agreed,” Steven cuts in. “William gets away with all of this while we clean up his mess quietly?”
A burst of fiery heat courses through me. “Absolutely not,” I snap, fixing him with a glare. It’s only when I see the concern in his eyes that I find the strength to roll my shoulders, reining in my fury. “I’d never ask or want you to trust me blindly. You’ll have the power to act as whistleblowers and hold us all accountable. William will be held responsible for his actions, one way or another.”
Davey adds, “I understand how this sounds, but I don’t think we’ll be able to provide compensation to the victims any other way.”
Lloyd and Steven share glances, but Cillian nods, eyes darting back and forth as he turns over the words. “How soon do we move on Sierra Blanca?” he asks.
“As soon as possible. I want two of you to observe the operations discreetly. We won’t engage yet, just gather information,” I instruct.
All three nod in agreement. “We’ll book the flights as soon as we wrap up here,” Lloyd confirms.
Davey clears his throat. “This information does not leave this room. Cillian, I’ll be leaving you to debrief Cora so Silas and I can speak to Natalie privately when they arrive at the house in an hour.”
We list our next steps for the coming weeks. The elephant in the room—William—remains. The team expects me to lead that, but I'm unsure where to start.
How do you dismantle a man who’s spent decades wielding influence?
When we conclude, Cillian, Steve, and Lloyd head back down to the basement. Davey and I stay on the phone for a few more minutes before I hang up, knowing he’ll be here shortly.
Instead of jumping into the files Davey sent over, I find myself wandering to the first floor through the back staircase, something in the center of my chest pulling me forward.
My footsteps slow as I approach the music room. There's a quiet pride in finding her exactly where I expect, nestled in the window seat against the far wall with her eyes closed. The early evening sunlight bathes her in a soft halo, accentuating the auburn highlights in her shoulder-length waves. Her legs stretch out across, head tilted back.
The sunlight not only plays in her hair but also casts a gentle glow across the column of her creamy throat, revealing a burn scar that peeks out from under her t-shirt and up the side of her neck.
I step further into the room, and her eyes flutter open, the brown of her irises lit by the sunlight, as they meet mine.
“Hey,” Elena murmurs and pulls her legs in, crossing them to sit up straighter. I take the seat next to her. “How did it go?”
I ignore her question. “Why did you leave?”
Her eyes drift away as her fingers find a loose thread on her jeans. She tugs at it gently, not quite meeting my gaze. “I felt like I was overstepping,” she finally says. “I left so you could discuss what you needed to without having to worry about... me.”
Shifting to face her directly, I carefully choose my next question. “Why would I be worried?”
Elena’s eyes narrow with a knowing look. “I thought that making the decision for you was easiest, and if you wanted me to stay, you would have said so.” She bites the inside of her cheek. “I respect your choice.”
There’s a flicker of pain in her expression, but she buries it so quickly I don’t know if I’d be fast enough to follow it.
