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Not mine.
I don’t speak for him.
I speak for me.
The man I am.
The one he raised me to be.
The one I have taught myself to become.
“Ooooo, silent and brooding,” mocks Monica while angling her crossed legs in my direction. “Saving it all for the cameras.” She brushes her dark locks over her shoulder. “Love it.”
And I will love when this is over.
There isn’t much of a delay between her last statement and the first she makes into the cameras, “Hello, everyone. I’m Monica Simmons with Global Laundry and am fortunate enough to be sitting here with the recently engaged, billionaire, philanthropist, Weston Wilcox of Wilcox Enterprises to conduct an exclusive interview regarding some striking accusations that have been made regarding his lineage.”
I keep my increasingly sweaty palms on my black casual pants as I politely greet, “Hello, Monica.”
“You are known for being the sole heir to the extensive Wilcox fortune, correct?”
“Yes.”
“However, recently, there’s been documentation presented to you regarding the possibility that that fact, isn’t a fact after all, correct?”
Additional tightening occurs in my chest during my answering, “Yes.”
“And how did you respond when you first received the news?”
Like a recalcitrant child with easy access to alcohol.
“I struggled to process the idea,” slips past my lips in the open, honest tone Evie coached me into showcasing. “I had been led to believe my entire life that I was an only child, so the notion of that not being true, the concept that those who loved me could keep something like that to themselves, hurt.” My stare stays locked onto hers. “Deeply.”
Against her own volition sympathy is flashed in her stare. “I completely understand.”
Yes, Batman’s greatest foes often have the most tragic backstories themselves.
“Since receiving the claim, would you say you and your team have been provided with adequate time to review it?”
Adequate is a bit of a fucking stretch.
“Yes.”
“And now that you have, how do you feel in comparison to your initial feelings?”
“Informed.”
My response receives a curious twitch of her brow. “Oh?”
“Analyzing and exploring and investigating the allegations brought new insight to who my parents were, who they surrounded themselves with, and the lengths they felt were necessary to go to in order to do what they believed to be right for them, their marriage, and the brand at the time.”
“Do you agree with their decisions?”
“It is not my place to agree or disagree. To judge or condemn.” One hard swallow is abruptly stolen. “And I cannot and will not be held accountable for their decisions, simply my own.”
The response seems to displease her by the tightening of her mouth. “Which are?”
“I agreed to a non-bias, 3rd party DNA test to confirm the individual in question is indeed a blood relative. Once the information is verified, I will provide them documentation that gives them their rightful shares – from my existing shares – that should’ve been theirs upon our shared parent’s death compensating them financially and welcoming them into the brand.” My fingers fold together between proclamations. “And me, my fiancée, my best friend – also known as the face of the company – as well as a few other important people in my personal life will be inviting this person over for an early dinner this evening. If the test proves that we are related, we look forward to getting to know all about them.”
