Page 47 of Executive Decision

“I… uh… we talked about it, but Bernie thinks legacy media is the way to go.”

“We’ll target more middle-aged customers that way, though,” I said. “It’s a segment we already have. I thought the goal with these capsule collections was to target a younger demographic?”

“Influencers are hard to manage,” Bernie said. “We expect that working with some cable providers?—”

“None of the millennials you want are on cable.” I looked to Davey.

Heknewbetter. Why wasn’t he speaking? He was beyond help. My brother knew better. He cared, didn’t he? Why wasn’t he fighting for what he wanted?

“Maybe you can talk to me more about that strategy,” Davey said. “Later, Daphne.”

“Or, I could speak with Bernie? I have plans?—”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Walker, you don’t know anything about U.S. retail,” Bernie nearly scoffed.

I shut my laptop with a definite clap and stared at Davey.

“Bernie, Daphne has been on the acquisition side of retail for years. She has worked for several major firms in London. She’s alsoinour target demographic. It might help to explore what she is thinking.”

Might help. It was so passive!

“I could try to understand, I suppose,” Bernie said. “Let’s connect another time.”

I nodded, trying not to let on I felt humiliated. I knew this company. I knew what ithadbeen andcouldbe, but Davey let this new, ineffective president walk all over him. After the meeting—boring and pointless—ended, I followed Davey back to our father’s office.

“Sit, please,” Davey gestured to sit before the desk my father used to call home.

I looked at the sports memorabilia that replaced my father’s family photos on his bookshelf. My stomach churned.

“Thank you for coming,” Davey noted. “I realize things have been… tense.”

Because youmadethem that way.

“And I just wanted to say that my reaction to your… windfall… was inappropriate and unlike me.”

I set my jaw. “It wounded me. And I know Mum told you off about it, so let’s leave it there. She’s apologized—in her way—and I will chock it up to heightened emotions, this once. But if you’re about to ask me if ‘we’re all good’, I will say fuck no.”

“Daphne, I brought you here to bury the hatchet, not start a fucking war!” Davey paced, annoyed.

“I want to make the company better, Davey. That is why I am here.”

“Fine, let’s get to brass tax, then. You should respect my judgment in meetings. Daphne, I am in charge. Like it or not, you chose Chandler over the family and your career.”

“I tried to run away the week before my wedding, and Mum drug me back kicking and screaming, Davey! You were there! You told me to run!”

The week before my wedding, I fled my family’s home in London with the help of my brothers. A teenaged Derrick got wildly drunk as a distraction while Davey helped flee. Unfortunately, my parents found me at our aunt’s Paris house and convinced me to return.

“Then why did you come back? Why? I helped you leave, and you fucking came back.”

I grabbed a tissue from his desk. “Because I was scared. Because I knew if I didn’t go through with it, I would embarrass all of us. I owe you immensely for trying to help, David. I will always be so grateful to you. It just… you have taken it out on me since then. Do you think I liked feeling subordinate to Chandler’s whims all this time?”

“You want me to believe that a woman with an Oxford education felt powerless to leave her stupid oaf of a husband?”

“Have you ever faced that sort of thing, Davey?” I asked. “Because you get so beaten down and hurt that it doesn’t matter anymore. Fighting only hurts worse.”

“And I was your big brother trying to save you,” he nearly whispered. “I tried.”

I sighed, sensing he really felt remorse and worry all this time. Davey’s anger always came first, then remorse.

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