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Chapter 14
Everett
When I pull into the company lot, the building looms against the sky, its glass walls slick with rain. It used to look like legacy. Tonight, it looks like a crime scene. The lobby smells of lemon polish and betrayal. The floor numbers flicker like a countdown as we take the elevator up in silence.
By the time we reach my father’s office door, the adrenaline has sharpened into something quieter—resolve. Not rage. Not grief. Purpose.
I don’t knock. I open it and walk straight in, drawing strength from Ariel’s hand clasped tightly in mine.
He’s at the window, hands tucked behind his back, surveying the empire he built on lies and greed. His eyes meet mine as he turns, then narrow on Ariel at my side.
“You,” he hisses, his lip curling in disapproval.
“Me,” she says firmly, raising her chin and holding his gaze.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been prouder.
We cross the room toward him. “I know what you’ve done.” I wave a hand around me. “How you built this company.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, boy?” he sneers.
“You threatened Ariel. Threatened the lake. You said you’d fund dumping, buy silence, sabotage cleanups if she didn’t leave me.”
His expression doesn’t change, but the air in the room does, buzzing with a dangerous energy. “That’s quite a story,” he drawls. “I trust you’ve got proof.”
“You told me yourself,” Ariel says quietly. “All the terrible things you would do if I didn’t leave. You even offered me ten thousand dollars to disappear.”
He tilts his head, his expression sardonic. “A homeless tramp and a son scorned. Very compelling witnesses.”
Something inside me snaps—the last fraying thread of patience and years of swallowing what I should have screamed.
In two strides, I’ve crossed the space between us. My hand fists his collar and slams him back against the edge of his ridiculous mahogany desk. A picture frame rattles. His eyes widen for a split second before the arrogance slides back into place.
“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” I snarl. My knuckles tremble with the effort it takes not to hit him. “You don’t get to poison what’s left of this world and dress it up as business. You don’t get to lie to me about saving lakes while you’re the one killing them.”
He doesn’t flinch. “You’re making a fool of yourself, Everett. This tantrum might play well in the tabloids, but it won’t save your—what is she, exactly? Charity case? You’ve always had a soft spot for strays.”
I shove him harder, the fabric of his suit bunching beneath my hands. “She’s the reason I thank God I’m not like you,” I bite out. “She’s the reason I still have something left worth fighting for.”
Ariel’s voice cuts softly through the static in my ears. “Everett.”
Just my name, but it’s enough. The rage stutters, and I step back, releasing him, chest heaving.
He casually smooths his collar. “There it is,” he says, voice dripping with contempt. “Emotion. You’ll never survive in business with that bleeding heart of yours.”
I glare at him, my pulse still hammering. “Then maybe business isn’t what I want to survive in. You think this is a game I can’t win,” I say, surprising myself as a welcome calmness settles over me. “But I don’t have to win. I only have to call a press meeting and tell the truth.”
My father smirks. “You can’t prove a story you invented.”
“Actually,” Kara says from the doorway, “we can.”
We all turn. Kara steps in, holding a tablet in one hand and a folder so thick it may have gravitational pull in the other.
“I’ve been watching you for a while,” she says to my father, almost polite. “Last quarter, your ‘soil amendment’ subsidiary started placing orders that didn’t match any project timelines—too much volume, too fast, at odd hours. Meanwhile, small spills surged up around inlets you’ve been courting for new contracts. I assumed incompetence. Then I looked closer.”
He laughs, but I can hear the uncertainty in it. “You looked closer, Kara? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m the person you employed to protect this company’s interests, even if it meant protecting it against you,” Kara says coolly. “As I was saying, I looked closer. Used drones. Thermal, night-vision. I witnessed dump runs at two a.m. into protected coves. The same trucks showing up on both your shell company’s invoices and the ‘independent’ contractor rosters for cleanup. I have emails, Ev,” she says, glancing at me with an apology in her eyes.
