Page 54 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

I check my phone. It’s barely five in the morning, but there’s no point trying to go back to sleep now.

I throw off the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed, sitting there in the dark until my breathing slows. The nightmare clings to me like cobwebs, sticky and suffocating.

Today is September 14th.

Twelve years ago today, a drunk driver hit my parents’ car head-on. My father died on impact. My mother lingered for three hours in the ICU before her injuries finally claimed her.

Happy fucking anniversary.

By the time I’m dressed I almost feel human again.

Almost.

The morning crawls by.

One of the department heads drops off a stack of reports himself. Normally he’d stand there and walk me through every line whether I asked him to or not. Today he just sets the folder on the edge of my desk, as if I might detonate if he gets too close.

“Anything else, Mr. Cavill?” His voice is soft and neutral, and when I look up at him, he immediately averts his gaze.

“No.”

He’s gone before I finish the word, easing the door shut so it doesn’t quite click.

They all know what today is. And every year it’s the same. The lowered voices. The pitying looks that follow me down every hall. It makes me want to put my fist through a wall, or throttle the next person who looks at me like I might shatter.

I know both are terrible ideas.

And so, instead, I sign off on a budget proposal, approve three new hires, and pretend the ghost of my father isn’t hovering at the edge of my vision, like a fucking dark cloud of misery.

I’m reviewing the latest projections when Finn walks in.

He doesn’t knock. He just pushes through the door like he doesn’t care if I’m busy with something, his expression carefully casual in a way that immediately puts me on edge.

“Max.” He nods at me, then tosses something onto my desk.

A newspaper. I look up and quirk an eyebrow.

“Page seven,” he says.

I look at the paper.

“What is this?”

“Just read it.”

I pick up the paper and flip to page seven.

The headline stops me cold.

REMEMBERING THEODORE CAVILL: A TITAN OF INDUSTRY AND PHILANTHROPY

Below the headline is a photograph. My father in his prime, that practiced smile he’s perfected for cameras, the one that never reached his eyes. He’s shaking hands with some politician, both of them radiating the kind of fake warmth that makes my skin crawl.

I start reading.

Twelve years ago today, the business world lost one of its most influential figures when Theodore Cavill, founder and CEO of Cavill Industries, was killed in a tragic automobile accident along with his beloved wife, Margaret.

Beyond his business achievements, Cavill was renowned for his philanthropy. The Cavill Foundation has donated millions to educational initiatives and medical research across the country.