Page 13 of The Innovator

Chaos erupts at Rhode Island’s Maximum Prison. An unexplained explosion occurred inside the prison this evening, injuring several inmates and correctional officers. They are being transported to local hospitals for treatment. The explosion occurred during a kitchen renovation, which is under investigation. We will update you when we receive more information.

I slowed my pace to a walk on the treadmill. Something told me the explosion wasn’t an accident. Derek had been attacked a few times in prison. The secret organization known as The Trogyn had wanted him dead, but failed. These people had a hand in killing my father.

They had to be stopped, but first, I needed to know who the elite members were.

Did Derek get hurt by this explosion? Was it intended for him? What information did Derek have on them?

No longer in the mood to exercise, I walked past my bed, heading to the shower. My phone buzzed from the nightstand.

I need to see you. It’s important. - D

Waves of resentment surfaced and made me tense up.

I ignored Derek and went to shower off any feelings tied to him. As the water ran down my body, a face popped into my vision, arousing me again. Natalie seemed to intrude on my mind at the most inopportune time.

What would she think if she knew I was jacking off, thinking of her?

Perhaps today called for an unannounced visit to her office for an update on The Prism.

CHAPTERSIX

NATALIE

I spread out all the images Dad had left me and tried to piece everything together. Nothing made sense.

Grabbing the pocket watch, I ran my fingers over its intricate designs. Dad had this made when I was seven years old. I remembered going to the jewelers with him and watching him discuss it with a man with a white mustache who I came to know as Monsieur Henri Ducasse, a well-established watchmaker. He had passed away several years ago.

What do you want me to see, Daddy?

If he hadn’t sent this watch along with the original deed stating I was the owner of The Prism, I wouldn’t have believed the letter came from my dad. It came two months after he died. But he didn’t send any keys to the property.

Who had sent the package for him? Who was helping my dad?

I was dealing with the tabloids claiming my dad had an affair with several women and making sure House of LaRue functioned properly after his death when this letter threw me another curve ball. In addition, Aunt Estelle—Dad’s sister—had taken over as CEO and wanted to sell it to a venture capitalist. She’d been the CFO prior to her new role.

Though Mom told me Dad had wanted to update his will, they never got the chance. Was he planning to remove Aunt Estelle? My grandparents had wanted Dad and Aunt Estelle to run the company, so he had honored their wishes. But over the years, Aunt Estelle had proven she only cared about money and not about the legacy my grandparents had started. That didn’t surprise me, as I had encountered her mean streak when I was younger.

“Please let me out, Aunt Estelle! I’m sorry I pushed Nicolette! I won’t do it again . . .”

Ghostly sounds surround me, and I tremble as I imagine monsters reaching for me. An icy chill touches my skin, and I scream, scooting farther away.

That terrifying experience had trapped me in a frightening place I couldn’t seem to escape. A shiver ran down my body as I remembered the nails poking out from the wooden floor, scraping me, making me think they were skeletal fingers trying to grab me.

I never told my mom or dad. Being young and vulnerable, I’d believed her threat and refused to go to her house when my parents needed a babysitter. Over the years, I let that experience fade into the corner. Now and then, it would surface like an awful cold that came and went.

Aunt Estelle could be the CEO if she wanted. I was still Creative Director and Lead Designer, so creativity was more my forte. The Board of Directors would vote on the sale in four months. LaRue profits had already taken a nose dive before Dad’s death. After his passing, it worsened, and the press became vultures attacking him and House of LaRue. I had to clear my dad’s name and persuade the directors to vote against selling it. Mom was VP of Marketing and had been keeping me posted while I tried to uncover what my dad had been doing in the States.

If he had an affair, where were the women? I couldn’t find any names. What had Dad been up to? I tried my best to remember if there had been anything off with Dad, but nothing stood out. Had he been protecting Mom and me by pretending everything was all right?

So many questions swirled in my head as I looked at the last pictures of us at a restaurant. Mom and Dad looked so happy. They had wanted another child, but Mom experienced some complications so they only had me. My dad loved us, and now I had to protect the business he’d worked so hard to maintain.

The business had started out as my grandparents’ small tailor shop. When the men’s wives saw my grandmother’s custom-made outfits, they requested her business, and a boutique was born. My grandparents used up all their savings to grow the business. They taught my dad and aunt how to design, sew, and run the business since they were teenagers. Within one year, the boutique moved to an additional space with fifteen employees. The following year, they had investors who helped them acquire a five-floor building with an adjacent warehouse. House of LaRue had now been in business for over sixty years.

So I had to fight to keep this legacy alive. I had to honor my grandparents’ and my dad’s hard work and dedication.

Financial problems had fallen onto House of LaRue months before Dad’s death, but he’d had a plan. I’d assumed things were looking up. I should’ve paid more attention. There was no way he’d want the company to join the Fontaine and Chalamet Group—a wine company that owned luxury car brands and jewelers and was now trying to gather up fashion labels. The problem with these capitalists was that LaRue would beoneof many brands, and it wouldn’t get the attention it deserved. Having been in the fashion business for a while, I’d witnessed countless companies merged or bought out by another, only to be dissolved after a few years.

I couldn’t let that happen to the LaRue brand. LaRue belonged to my dad—our family—and not to some outsider who didn’t care about it as much as we did.

---