Page 7
“It’s preliminary,” he insisted. “Nothing’s been decided.”
I opened my cabinet and pulled out a bottle of tequila I saved for particularly difficult days. This qualified as one. “Who’s the potential buyer?”
The silence stretched for several seconds too long so I spoke again. “Dad?”
“I can’t discuss that yet,” he finally said. “There are confidentiality agreements in place.”
“Bullshit.” The word slipped out before I could stop it. “You called me to tell me something, so tell me.”
“Watch your tone, Sutton.” His voice hardened, the fake cheerfulness from earlier evaporating into thin air. “This is still my company, and these are board-level decisions.”
I poured about two shots’ worth of tequila into a glass. “Well, thanks for the heads-up.” Sarcasm dripped off every single word of that statement.
“I don’t appreciate that tone,” my father said.
“And I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark about major decisions affecting the company I helped to flourish.” I knocked back half the tequila, welcoming the burn down my throat.
“That’s exactly why I called, Sutton. To keep you informed.”
“After the fact,” I countered. “After confidentiality agreements have already been signed.”
His sigh was heavy with disappointment, a sound I’d grown far too accustomed to over the years. “This is why we have these issues, Sutton. You always assume the worst.”
I laughed. “I assume the worst because experience has taught me to. Who’s making the offer, Dad? Is it someone I know?”
“As I said, I can’t disclose that yet. But I wanted you to hear it from me first before rumors started circulating.”
“How thoughtful,” I muttered, finishing my drink.
“Sutton…” he said and the image that formed in my head was one of him pinching the bridge of his nose the way he did when he was frustrated. “The announcement will be made soon. I just wanted to prepare you.”
“For what? To watch everything I’ve worked for get absorbed into some corporate monolith? To have my department gutted for ‘efficiency’?”
“No one’s talking about gutting anything. Look, this could be good for everyone. The right partner could take what we’ve built and give it the resources to grow.”
“The right partner,” I repeated. “And who gets to decide what ‘right’ means?”
“Me and the board, Sutton. That’s how this works.”
“Right. The board.” Which my father had carefully stacked with his allies over the years. People who would do exactly what he wanted while maintaining the appearance of corporate governance.
“I should go. I just… I wanted you to know.”
“Thanks for the courtesy call,” I replied, unable to keep the bite out of my tone. “Have a good night.”
After we hung up, I stood in my kitchen, staring at my phone and the empty glass on my counter, trying to process what I’d just learned. The company was being sold, or at least that was on the table. My father knew who the buyer was but wouldn’t—or couldn’t—tell me.
Both possibilities bothered me equally.
I cleaned up the small mess I’d made in my kitchen and headed back to my bedroom in an attempt to go to bed for the night. I lay in the dark and ran through everything my father had and hadn’t said on the call that never should have happened. I also thought about who might be interested in purchasing Prescott Vantage and why.
Unfortunately, that meant that I didn’t fall asleep for a while. I had no idea what was coming. I didn’t know how bad this was going to get before it got better. But I did the only thing that I could do: mentally prepare myself for whatever I might have to face as a result of this news that had landed on my lap.
5
CAIN
The photographs spread across the desk of my home office showed a body that had been arranged with almost artistic precision. That was the clear sign that told me Declan had taken his time. I always appreciated his attention to detail and this showcase was no exception. Each photo captured a different angle of Gary Nast’s final moments.
