Mae

This is not freaking happening! As I stared at Harriet, trying to process what she’d said, I could feel the blood in my veins turn to ice. This made no damn sense. Why would Harriet choose Clinton to run the company? Sure, he was her son—and her own flesh and blood—but I assumed she would want the best person to run FCA.

Fighting to stay calm, I evened out my breathing as I passed my gaze around the room. Son of a bitch. That was why some of them wouldn’t look me in the eye. Had they just been humoring me this whole time, knowing they were going to stab me in the back… Or had Harriet or Clinton gotten to them at the last minute?

My brain quickly skimmed over the last year of preparations, the meetings, the deals, the plans I’d shared, the excitement from some of the executives. I’d had it all locked down.

A hand on my shoulder made me flinch, and I looked up to find Harriet once again wearing a sympathetic expression. But then our gazes locked, and I found something else beneath her apparent concern. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was resolute in nature. Did she really think this was the right move? The question was on the tip of my tongue. After all, there’d been no indication that she’d had this planned. Just yesterday, we’d gone to the salon together, sat next to each other, getting our nails done as if we were any mother and daughter. The thought made my chest tighten and my face flush with anger and frustration.

“I really am sorry, Mae.” She pulled her lips beneath her teeth as her eyes darted away for a beat. “But I had to do what was best for the company, and Clinton’s plans just felt stronger than yours.”

Bullshit. And yet I remained frozen, unable to stand up to my stepmother. I sighed and shook my head instead.

“I know, Mae. But I couldn’t let my affection for you decide what my vote should be. You understand.”

I didn’t, and I hoped my frown told her that. I wasn’t about to make a scene like a spoiled child in front of the board, though. The whole point of having the board was to collectively make the best decisions possible for the future of FCA. So, my hands were tied. At least for the moment.

Harriet tightened her grip on my shoulder, adding, “Besides, you’re so good at your job. We can’t lose you from that position where you’re clearly moving us in the right direction.”

All that felt like to me was adding insult to injury since my “good job” didn’t get me what it should have. Not to mention, I’d never use the word good to describe what I’d done for this company.

Knowing there were at least a few eyes still on me, I nodded and replied, “Of course. I’ll always do what’s best for the company.” Maintaining my image was the only move I had at this point, despite every part of my being screaming for justice.

“It’s what your father would have wanted.”

Of all the things she could say to wrap up this horrific conversation… She might as well have literally stuck a knife in me, because this was not what my father had wanted.

When Harriet was pulled away by one of the other executives, I eyed the door and planned my escape. I almost didn’t trust myself to stay. Everyone was chatting or on their phones, so they likely wouldn’t notice me slip out. My mind was already spinning with scenarios of how I would move forward from this. One thing was for damn sure: I wouldn’t let this go.

Letting out a quiet sigh, I stood back, intending to give a few quick acknowledgments on my way to the door, when Clinton caught my eye and waved me over. I ground my teeth together, and showed him a plastic grin as I moved over to him.

If he gloats, I’ll knee him in the nuts. But, he didn’t look like someone who’d just been given a prestigious and powerful position. Hell, I didn’t even know he wanted the job in the first place. No, Clinton’s grin held no pride; it was more on the mean side than anything. Almost as if he didn’t want the job for any other reason than sticking it to me. He’d never been one to step up and put in the time, so why was he doing this?

“I know you thought you had it in the bag, Sis…” His brows lifted. “But it looks like I won.”

Not allowing him to bait me, I took a step back. “What’s weird is that I’ve never thought of you as competition… It’s like you won a race you weren’t even running in.” Watching my stepbrother’s face fall gave me a brief moment of satisfaction. Too bad it was short lived because the reality was that Clinton was now in charge. He had won, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d have him and the board against me. So, of course, I sucked it up and said, “Congratulations, bro. I look forward to hearing about all these big plans that swayed the board to your side.”

Something flashed across his face at that, like he knew he was in over his head. Obviously, time would tell, and he’d have to put up or shut up.

Clinton’s lips parted but nothing came out.

“Now if you’ll excuse me…” I continued before he could find the words. I moved past him, heading toward the door without looking back. Suddenly, it felt as if the walls were closing in, and I needed to get out of there. The only way I’d get past this blow was to start planning my next move. Yeah, I could sit around and watch Clinton trash my father’s life’s work. I could wait for him to fail and beg me to bail him out. But, I didn’t think I had the patience for that. I knew as soon as I exited the boardroom that I couldn’t stay at FCA while Clinton was president. That was for damn sure.

Thirty minutes later, back in my apartment, I poured myself a bourbon, neat—my father’s drink. I’d had the bottle set out on the table to share a victory drink with him. So much for that.

Technically, I should have stayed at the office, but it felt as though I’d been hit by a train. Somehow my brain was racing but my body was dragging. “Focus, Mae.” I knew the only place I could think straight was home, so I couldn’t waste any time pathetically pouting over this. It was time to come up with a game plan—one that would teach Harriet and Clinton a lesson would be an added bonus. They obviously didn’t value me and all the worked I’d done for FCA, which meant I couldn’t stay.

I’d had plenty of contacts, plenty of meetings and deals with people who respected me and saw my worth. One of them would scoop me up, I’d build myself back up, and then I’d go back—no doubt finding FCA suffering—to take everything I was entitled to. I took a hefty swig of the amber liquid, then set it down to grab my cell.

Scrolling through my phone, I realized my starting place. I grinned as I pulled up my contact for Andrea, an old colleague from our early days interning in the financial district. I supposed we weren’t friends exactly, but we’d always agreed to have each other’s backs when it made sense.

I was surprised when Andrea answered on the first ring, even more so because of her greeting.

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

“You were? I—”

“But I gotta tell you, Mae, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

What the hell? “What do you mean? How do you—”

“You’re persona non grata, girl and let me save you some time. It doesn’t matter who you call, no one at any firm is going to take a meeting with you. Not now.”

“Why is that?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

“No one’s going against Fall Capital.”

Heat painted every inch of my skin, my nails digging into my palm. “Who was it? Who did you speak to?” I demanded.

“Harriet Nolan called my boss and told him if he talked to you, they’d come for him.”

I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing. Visions of Harriet and Clinton flashed through my mind as anger took me so hard and fast my head swam. I leaned against the couch for support. I’d sensed Harriet’s sympathy had been insincere, but I hadn’t actually believed she’d been working against me the whole time. Was Clinton in on it too? He must have been.

After ending the call with Andrea, I stood in place, staring at the blank wall in my living room, my brain swirling with so many thoughts I couldn’t latch on to one. Professionally, I was angry. But personally, I was…hurt. Sure, Harriet and I weren’t as close as we could be, but I’d thought she was on my side.

When I finally moved, it was toward my drink, but a loud knock on the door stopped me short. I glared at my front door. I’d planned to ignore it, but the pounding came again, louder.

I paced to the door and flung it open, ready to tear the intruder a new one. Until I saw who it was—mailroom Joe from the elevator. What the hell does he want?

Then I noticed he’d completely changed his outfit and was now sporting a tailored suit in all black, except for a shiny red pocket square peeking out. He towered over me with a wicked gleam in his eye, and before I could say anything, he said, “Hello, Mae. You might not recognize me, so allow me to introduce myself. I’m, well, there’s no elegant way to say it, so I’ll just say it. I’m a devil, and I’m here to make sure you get everything you want.”