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A weight bears onto my chest, heavy and nauseating. Our father's supposed to be teaching him, working alongside him. Not using his prized pony like a sled dog. How long has this been going on? I want to ask, to pick Doris's brain until only air resides between her ears, but her lips are sealed too tight.
She may be an executive secretary to both of them, but she knows who reigns, who stuck me at this child's desk out of spite, and who it is that has the final say.
In everything.
No more than twenty minutes later, my father's tearing back Elias's office door. "Well, you'll just have to buck up and get it done," his stern voice booms. "We all make sacrifices," are his ironic words of wisdom, before he storms past my desk without a glance, aiming for the elevators.
Bursting from her chair, Doris follows his lead.
Elias sighs from deep in his office.
"What was that about?"
He walks out, stoic as ever. "Oh, nothing."
"Didn't sound like nothing."
Leaning against the doorframe, he shrugs. "That's his weekly thing. Waltzes into my office, gives me a lesson, then goes along his way."
"He's got some poor teaching skills, if you ask me."
"Meh." He waves a hand through the air. "He's just stressed, from working himself to the bone, as usual."
I freeze up, as a colossal wave of urgency washes over me. If only my brother knew he was merely describing himself, least of all our father. Perhaps Warren Kingston used to fit such a description, but that's certainly no longer the case, not after the evidence I've seen.
With a pang of sadness, I watch Elias pull out his phone, then bury his head in something that's surely work related. He needs to know. He deserves to know.
"I need to tell you something."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?" He doesn't meet my gaze, which is no surprise. Why would he? I've never said anything serious my whole life.
"I, uhh..." I loosen my collar, feeling suffocated. Come on, just spit it out. Expose our father, expose him as the asshole he's always been. "Uhm..."
But I can't.
Not when I can predict the chain of events that would follow, if I were to tell the truth. Elias would confront our father, who would easily connect the dots, straight back to me. What're the chances, Elias learns something so vital, after I've barely worked a week. It's too obvious of a coincidence.
Then he'd pull my trust fund for good.
Guilt shreds my heart in two, straight down the middle, when Elias finally lifts his head, and I stare into those glassy eyes. He's still using...
I clear my throat, using the guilt to my advantage. "I kind of... slacked off on that balance statement."
His lips thin. "Again? You've had since yesterday."
"I know. Sorry. I got... distracted with other work."
"Sure, you did." He shakes his head, pushing off the door frame. "Have it on my desk by the end of the day. Stay late, if you have to," he orders, then heads out the door, but before he passes my desk, my phone lights up, ringing loudly.
AMERICAN EXPRESS FRAUD DEPARTMENT, the caller I.D. warns in bold, which should send my heart plummeting. If it were any other day, it would. Instead, I bite back a smile.
That's my girl, I muse, before thinking better of it, my guilt long forgotten.
Elias raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to answer that?"
Wasn't planning on it, but then I'd have to explain why. Sighing, I pick up my phone, prompting Elias along his way.
A woman speaks from across the line. "Hello, this is the American Express Fraud Department. May I ask with whom I'm speaking?"
