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Silence. She’s patient. I’m learning that about her.
“Less than thirty people in the world know about it,” I say, propping my hip on the desk. Might as well face a problem head-on. “Half of those people are family. The other half are under strict nondisclosure agreements that would bankrupt them if they broke it.”
“How?” she asks, sounding faintly impressed.
It’s a good question. “Have you ever heard of the Hughes curse?”
“I thought that was an old wives’ tale. And I thought it was about—”
“Their marriages.” He gives a rough laugh, a sound of acceptance. “People sense that something’s wrong, but they assume that because the business keeps running, keeps profiting, keeps growing, that it’s only about their family life.”
“Because you keep it running.”
So she’s figured that part out already. This is the problem with smart women. “Early onset dementia. Devastating for anyone, really. But when there’s billions of dollars on the line? It becomes one of the best guarded secrets in the world.”
“Why keep it a secret? If people knew you were running the company, they would trust you. Considering your quarterly stock market report, business is booming.”
“You’ve been reading my quarterly reports?”
“I am a stockholder,” she says. “And I think they would trust you.”
“They would trust me, but for how long? They trusted my father, too. How would they know when my mind starts to go? How would they know what I’m forgetting as I sign billion-dollar contracts? I would be thrown out tomorrow, and that’s when the chaos would start.”
She’s quiet, and I know she’s seeing it. The distrust, the factions, the fear—they’re massive. Many levels deep. They would explode if everyone knew. “Do you have it?” she asks, her voice matter of fact, as if she knows I couldn’t have accepted pity.
“Not yet.”
“Then how do you know you’re going to get it?”
“The main Hughes branch has only had sons for the past five generations. And every single one of us has the curse. That’s what we call it, even in the house.”
“If it got out—”
“It wouldn’t be us who suffered. We have enough money stashed away to last lifetimes. It’s everyone around us who would be hurt. They’d lose everything. Most of their money isn’t liquid. It’s stocks. Real estate. The value would plummet if we lost trust. We have tens of thousands of employees who depend on Hughes Industries for their paychecks.”
“So… what? You’re expected to sacrifice your life for them?”
She sounds indignant on my behalf. It makes me smile, which is a rare thing when it comes to this topic. “It’s not such a great sacrifice. You’ve seen my cars. I have a good life. One many men would trade for. I understand my privilege. Just as I understand that I only have it for a few more years. Then everything—the memories, the knowledge—will fade away.”
“Finn.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Eva.”
“Excuse me if I don’t believe in generational curses and old wives’ tales. Maybe you’ll get it, but it’s not a guarantee. This is why you’re like that, isn’t it?”
“Like what?” I ask, wariness tightening my stomach.
“Like you need to live and laugh and… and kiss me, because there’s no tomorrow.”
“There is no tomorrow. I don’t say that for your pity. I don’t even feel anything about it. I’ve known it since I was old enough to talk. My dad isn’t even fifty, but he’s been gone for a long time. I have maybe a decade left before it starts, if I’m lucky.”
“And then what? Are you going to train another generation of little Hughes sons?”
“Don’t start. My dad is bad enough.”
“Then why—”
“Because I promised him. I promised him when I was seven years old that I would take over Hughes Industries. That I would keep his condition a secret, no matter what the cost. No matter how he might argue with me later. And the peace I felt in him after that promise… it was real, Eva. He believed me, so I have to do this.”
