Page 95 of Begin Again, Part 2

"Are you seriously blaming me for this? Are you saying it's my fault? This is his birthright. He had to take over at some point!" Clarke ranted back at her.

"Well, if the shoe fits!"

And it went on, the fiery back and forth, the flames of their anger nowhere close to dying out. At some point, Liam thought he'd lose his mind from all their irrational screaming. But he knew better than to interrupt them when they were locked in one of their rare but intense arguments. So while he cradled the cordless handset between his ear and shoulder and half-heartedly listened to the screaming match on the other end of the line, he scrolled through his iPhone to check out the shit show he wouldn't have known he was starring in if it wasn't for his parents' call, his mind flying into clean-up mode as he scoured the internet.

A 4K-quality photo of Eden in his arms as they left the Convention Centre last night was splashed all over the front pages of online tabloids. In the four hours it was up, it had racked up an impressive number of comments.

Very few—about ten or so—were as nice as one would expect from people on the internet. The rest were all trolls demanding to know the identity of the very 'basic-looking' woman hanging on to him.

Liam stopped at comment #55, feeling sick to his stomach at the vitriol. He pushed his phone away, pissed out of his head at the stuff they'd written about Eden. Thank heavens her messy hair had done a good job hiding her face, so chances of the trolls uncovering her identity were slim to none.

His biggest worry, though, was Eden waking up to this shit. He had to shut it down fast. He sent James an urgent text to get Scandal to remove the comments.

'We have no control over Scandal's servers, sir.' James texted back.

Liam shook his head at the nerve of the other man, an incredulous look in his eyes as he breathed in hard. He stared at the text message for a second or two while he thought up a diplomatic response to his head of security.

Convinced his threats would do the trick, Liam sent a follow-up text. 'If you still like your hefty salary and all your perks, you'll get it done. I don't want Eden to see this shit when she wakes up.'

For some reason, James seemed content to tempt fate and skate close to the unemployment line. He responded promptly. 'My job is to look after the missus and the baby. Their safety is of paramount concern to me right now. A few comments on the internet won't kill the missus. But the mob can. Let's keep our eye on the ball, sir.'

And that was the end of the conversation. No response came, no matter how many other threatening texts Liam sent.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he snarled, forgetting he was still on a call with his folks.

"What's wrong?" they asked.

"Your James has become bold!" he ranted, filling them in.

"He's right," Clarke was happy to put Liam in his place. "If you'd followed the company's security protocol and used the rear exit instead of acting like Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard, your photo wouldn't be all over the internet."

"Who's Kevin Costner, again?" Liam asked.

"A handsome Hollywood star, dear—I'd never refuse if he offered to carry me—" Lois riled Clarke up to no end with her comment, and they were at it again, with him threatening to ship her off to Hollywood if she wanted.

While his folks continued with their squabble, Liam went deeper down the rabbit hole, searching for the source of the leak of his therapy visits. He found it in the form of chatter splashed on the celebrity gossip pages of Dirt magazine. But other than several high-quality photos of him taken on two separate occasions outside Linda's office and vague speculations, there wasn't much about his reasons for his weekly therapy sessions.

Every man and his dog, though, with a computer and an internet connection, had come out to play in the comments section, leaving a theory or two about his mental health.

Everyone, including the crazies who never left their parents' basements, had become overnight experts on his health and wellbeing. Numerous diagnoses were thrown around. A thousand or so people believed he had an alcohol problem. Not exactly untrue or far-fetched, considering the amount of booze he'd consumed over the past few weeks.

An impressive number of anons suggested he had a split personality disorder. Liam could see this as the forerunner at the office. After all, there was a reason he earned his infamous moniker.

One person came close to the truth, maybe too close, by suggesting there was nothing wrong with his mental health. His problem was physical. The devil dick that had pleased many a woman in the past no longer worked as it should, and after trying numerous sex gurus, a therapist on the 5th floor of Medical Mews was his last hope.

Granted, it was one person, and the comment hadn't gotten many upvotes. But for Liam, it was one person too many. He knew that once everyone started paying attention to the comment, it was only a matter of time before it gained traction, and the rumour that so happened to touch on the truth spun out of control. He had to find the reporter and get a retraction —

"Son!" Clarke demanded his attention again, pulling Liam away from the millions of keyboard warriors who'd become too invested in his mental health.

"Perhaps you need to take some time off. Take a break and step away from your duties," Clarke suggested.

Absolutely not, Liam decided. He had a 09:00 AM flight to catch and depots to inspect. "Dad, I'm fine. I don't want a break. But I do need to get ready for my flight."

"How do you expect us to send you off when we know you're struggling?" Lois asked.

"I am not struggling. And my therapy visits have nothing to do with your health or my job. I had a problem with my dick, but it's now fixed, thank you!" Liam yelled, and by the time he realised what he'd said, the words were already out, hanging over the sudden tense silence filling the endless space between him and his parents.

"No!" Clarke sparked to life as Lois dissolved into tearful sobs. "The pressure of taking over as CEO and my health scare prompted you to seek help."

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