Page 27 of October
I sat in my car for a long time. I wasn't crying. I wasn't angry. I was... nothing. Numb, maybe. Hollowed out from the inside like something carved away piece by piece. I don't remember putting the keys in the ignition. I don't remember making the call. But somehow, I ended up parked outside a sharp-glassed high-rise on the other side of the city, staring up at the name I swore I'd never walk under: Graham Langley.
Shark in a suit. My father's oldest rival. The kind of man whose smile made other CEOs flinch. The kind of man I'd been taught to despise, until now. Langley was at the window when I stepped in. He turned slowly, the skyline burning behind him like fire through glass. When he saw me, he didn't bother hiding the smirk.
"Didn't expect to hear from you," he said. "Let me guess. Daddy dearest finally showed his color."
I didn't answer. I just walked in and dropped into the leather chair across from his desk, still wearing my disbelief like a second skin. My mouth was dry. My mind still reeling. I felt like I was watching myself from outside my body, some third-person version of me too ashamed to inhabit the wreckage directly.
"It's worse than that," Then I told him everything.
I said finally, my voice low, hollow. "He used me. But I don't understand why he's been pushing this narrative, me and Laura. The subtle comments. The way he pairs us up for meetings. The jokes he never corrects. It's like hewantspeople to think we're together. It's... it's messed up."
The words hung in the air, heavy and strange. Saying them out loud made it feel more real, and more disturbing. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as a slow smile pulled at one corner of his mouth.
"It is messed up," he said mildly. "But go on. I might see what he's doing. Sometimes it takes a wolf to recognize another one's tracks."
"He encouraged it," I said. "He'd laugh when people joked about Laura and me. Never corrected them. Sometimes he'd even fuelit. He started giving us joint projects. Assigning her to sit in on meetings that had nothing to do with her role. At first I thought he was grooming us both for leadership... I don't know. Or maybe he was finally seeing me as someone who could carry his name forward."
Langley gave a quiet laugh, not cruel—but close "You thought it was legacy. Turns out it was leverage."
I blinked. The word cut deep. He gestured loosely, voice calm, like he was explaining a business model.
"Look, it's not complicated. If Laura's seen with you, then no one's looking at your father. She can rise fast, stay close to the real power, and the entire company assumes it's because she's your shadow—not his."
I leaned forward, trying to make sense of it all. "But why go through all that trouble? He could've kept her close without draggingmeinto it."
Langley's eyes darkened just slightly, "Because you're the alibi, Thomas. The human firewall. The clean-cut son with a work ethic and a decent public image. As long as people thinkyou'rethe one she's attached to, your father gets to stay untouchable. Any whisper of favoritism? Blame it on office romance. The kind that's awkward, but forgivable. What would've looked like corruption now just looks like poor judgment—andyourpoor judgment, not his."
I sat back, cold. He was right. I'd been used, beautifully, precisely, and with absolute deniability. Langley watched me closely, then said, softer now:
"You weren't the heir. You were the screen."
He added, "and that's the Nepotism Shield in action."
I frowned. "The what?"
"In corporate terms?" he said, eyes glittering. "By presenting herself asyourpartner instead of your father's, Laura's rise through the company reads like soft nepotism. Tasteless? Sure. But survivable. It's the kind of thing people roll their eyes at, not call legal over. She's not jumping five pay grades because she's sleeping with the CEO—at least noton paper.She's just the girlfriend of the heir apparent. Who's going to dig too deep into that?"
I swallowed hard. My stomach twisted as the weight of it began to settle. The optics. The jokes. The way people at conferences used to smirk when Laura stood next to me, resting her hand lightly on my arm, as if it were natural.As if it were true.
I started, shaking my head. "I never—she was never my—"
Langley cut me off with a wave of his hand, voice sharp, "Doesn't matter."
He leaned back again, folding his hands with deliberate patience, like a man watching the final pieces fall into place.
"It's not about what'strue.It's about what'svisible.And from where I'm sitting, she's done a hell of a job staying close enough to you to block the view of your father. That's the brilliance of it. Everyone sees her with you. She shares your car from events. She leaves meetings with you. They've engineered this narrative perfectly."
He paused, then added with a wry twist to his lips: "No one questions why she's in the boardroom if they think she's warming your bed."
I flinched. The words hit harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to deny it again, but it felt pointless. The damage had already been done, and worse, it had beencurated.
Langley's expression turned analytical.
"And if you've ever signed off on one of her initiatives, her department budgets, hiring approvals, even as a courtesy..."
"I haven't," I said quickly, the words snapping out before I could think. Too fast. Too defensive.
Langley's eyes narrowed, catching it.
