Page 143 of Blind Prophet

“I'm not here to tell you my life story.”

“Fair enough.” My gaze falls to the suit blocking the door. “What happens now?”

“I’m leaving you with a choice. I’m phrasing it as a choice, but I’ve always known what you will do, what actions you will take.”

I pull out the chair to sit and listen, to learn what this sociopath has concocted. But my muscles are wound too tight to remain still, adrenaline crackling through my system like electricity. I shove the chair back under the desk and glare at the point where the wall meets the ceiling.

“Let’s hear it. What do you want, Geoffrey?”

“When I started this, I wanted to take everything from you. Everything you took from me by merely existing. I watched you grow up in the spotlight while I lived in the shadows. I watched you inherit the Moore name while I carried my mother’s. I watched you build Zenith on connections that should have been mine by birth.”

“You had the same connections. More so. You were always by his side.”

“Are you willfully blind? Are you that ignorant of how the world works? That you think you and I had the same opportunities?”

“You believe our opportunities differed because the world didn’t know you were his son?” He attended an Ivy League school. I don’t remember which one, but he’s had a stellar career.

“No one knows I’m his son. He didn’t allow my mother to place his name on my birth certificate.”

“You realize Dad was protecting you, right? The press would’ve been relentless. They would’ve researched your mother. You would’ve been known as the son of a prostitute who was only given a job because of the man who mistakenly fathered you. Wall Street would’ve accepted you, but when your back was turned, you would’ve been the butt of jokes.”

“You’re such a fool,” he snarls. “That man never performed a selfless action in his life. He’s easy to read. It’s easy to predict his actions. Why can’t you see him for what he is?”

“Believe it or not, I—” The words die on my tongue. I never saw Dad as a good person, but I worked to please him and, most recently, strove to protect him. “My actions don’t matter. You realize his legacy will remain intact, right? Whatever you’ve planned to hang on his head, the world will know you’re the one responsible.”

“An interesting perspective. I knew your thoughts would go there. How exactly will you inform the world? You’ll admit that you’ve been pretending to be our father for years because of his deteriorating mental capacity? That you orchestrated TED Talks, filmed an entire MasterClass on risk management? Even if you tell the world about me, his unknown son, and that I’ve been acting in his stead, some out there won’t believe you. After all, you’re guilty, too. You’ve acted in his name. You have an entire board believing he’s functioning and of sound mind and body. The board will wonder if you illegally controlled two board seats.”

“He retired.”

“They’ll wonder. They’ll ask when his mind deteriorated. When did you take over? What did he do?” Static and breathing cross the line in a pattern much like a winded chuckle.

“Conspiracy theories will abound. He weaves nonsensically when he talks, and his minions leave his office thinking he’s a genius. A mastermind. Or his favorite word: prophet. Will world leaders believe you? Your clients? Will your precious syndicate? They already possess doubts about your integrity. Worse, about your loyalty.”

“Who are you working with?” There’s no way he’s doing this all on his own.

“You assume I can’t possibly pull it off without help from someone else. You see me as a worker bee, an employee taking orders. You would be wrong. While entry into the syndicate was handed to you, I formed my own network. But you see…or, no, you don’t, do you? Willfully blind. I know you better than you know yourself, little brother. I’ve spent a lifetime watching you from the shadows, learning every little detail. How you take your coffee. How you make decisions under pressure. Who you call when you’re worried. What medicine you take. The art you chose, the photographs you framed. You never noticed me, but I noticed everything about you.”

“You do understand, you’re twenty years older than me. I was a child when I met you.”

“You’re not a kid now, though, are you? I studied you for years—as a teen, college student, businessman. I knew Caroline was the one thing you truly loved—the one thing you couldn’t replace. I’m not surprised you fell for her. She’s so much like your mother. Willing to walk away from the money. Few are, you know?”

My teeth clamp down so hard they ache. If he were in the room with me, I’d attack. I’ve never been one to lose my cool, to throw fists, but if he were here…

“What do you want, Geoffrey?”

“A recalibration. A correction, if you will. And you get to play a role. I’m going to give you a choice.” Geoffrey’s expression evolves from twisted malevolence to matter-of-fact businessman. “Enter politics as planned—all the way to the White House. Or watch everything you care about burn.”

I grip the edge of the table. “You engineered my nomination for chief of staff. How? Did you bribe the president?”

“Bribe? No, Dorian. We made a deal to ensure the future. Your future. The sky’s the limit for you, little brother, just like Dad wanted. Of course, when you step into politics, you’ll need to step away from conflicts of interest.”

“Zenith? That’s what this is about? You want Zenith?”

“Considered it. Seizing your highest accomplishment. But I weighed your choices and value system. Ultimately, I determined that acquiring your business under duress to be a high-risk maneuver with a low likelihood of a favorable outcome. Zenith will remain yours, although your interest will be placed in a trust, and those who run the day-to-day of it will be like-minded and loyal to me. Zenith isn’t just a company to you—it’s proof you’re more than just Halston Moore’s son. That’s why controlling it, not destroying it, is so much sweeter. What do you get? The presidency. You get to protect our father’s legacy and the Moore name. I expect you’ll choose wisely.”

Geoffrey believes he’s won. He’s studied me. He believes he can predict what I will do and how I will behave.

He believes I’ll play along to protect our father. To protect our family reputation. That I’ll willingly step into a life of politics and continue growing our wealth. Perhaps he suspects I’ll step in to help thwart whatever broader plan he’s concocted. Maybe he has something planned to undermine my presidency, to humiliate me.

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