Page 9 of Collateral Damage
I blink. “My father’s equity was divided among the children. We own the majority of the company, yes.”
“But it’s a small majority, isn’t it?”
We own fifty-four percent. It would’ve been more, but Father had to sell much of the equity years ago. When he stepped in as CEO, the company was in trouble, and he did what he had to do to bring it to the thriving conglomerate valued at billions ofdollars it is today. Laurence is in many industries, thanks to my dad’s leadership.
Cooper grins with a boastful expression that is unfamiliar to me. More proof that Cooper isn’t the sweet, loving guy I remember. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
My eyes narrow. “You sound like your father. What does any of this have to do with you?”
He steps back, steel walls guarding his emotions.
The unmistakable ding of someone making a toast rings from the front of the room. That’s weird; we already did the speeches. I turn to see the devil himself standing at the front of the room, gaining everyone’s attention, and my stomach drops.
Conrad King.
“Ladies and gentleman… Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears,” Conrad booms. The music has quieted, and everyone has turned to him, several chuckling at his stupid joke. He’s quoting Shakespeare now? Give me a break. “It’s with great pleasure I stand before you today to celebrate my son, Ethan, and his match to the beautiful Arden Laurence.”
I snort, and Cooper side-eyes me.
“What?” I whisper. “You know that’s not how he really feels.”
Cooper shakes his head. “You have no idea.”
“With the union of our families comes a new lease on life and an opportunity for peace,” Conrad continues, taking complete attention as he speaks into the microphone that was definitelynotintended for his use. I make a mental note to talk to the band about that one.
I peer around, trying to get a sense of where the rest of my family is. They’re all up front, and Cooper and I are in the back. Maybe I should edge my way over, but as I start to move, Coop grabs my elbow. “You don’t want to interrupt him.”
He shoots me a charged look, and my nerves skyrocket.
“It’s no secret that the late Gregory Laurence and I had a falling out some years ago,” Conrad continues. “My only regret is we couldn’t repair our relationship before his passing.”
Bullshit.
The crowd stirs at this, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks his lies sound forced. These menhatedeach other; my father had an affair with his wife—something that didn’t come out until after her death. It blew up our lives and dismantled a lucrative business partnership. My parents nearly got divorced over it. I lost Ethan and Cooper in the process of choosing my family.
“I truly believe Gregory is looking down on us now, grateful for this union between our kids.”
A few people clap, and a sly smile transforms Conrad’s face into something that appears charismatic, but I know is sinister.
“Years ago, when we were raising young children, Gregory and I signed a contract.”
I freeze, and everyone in the room seems to do the same. Cooper’s hand is still on my elbow. He squeezes once before letting go.
“A marriage contract.”
Confusion washes over my body. What does that even mean?
“The terms were simple. If a King heir were to marry a Laurence heir, an exchange of company equity would take place.”
I dart a glance at Cooper, but he’s stony faced. Rage roils through me—sothiswas why he asked. He was confirming intel.
“The King’s would gain ten percent ownership of Laurence International, and ten percent in King Media would go to their family. We thought of it as a mutually beneficial partnership; not only would the children be tied together in matrimony, but in business as well.”
I feel like I’m sinking into the marble floor, my body heavy with questions I’ll never have answers to. Why would my father agree to a contract like that?
I take a deep breath and think this through. Marriage contract or not, King Media and Laurence Internationaldidend up doing a lot of business together, but as far as I know, actual ownership never exchanged hands. It doesn’t seem like something my father would’ve agreed to, but then again, he did a lot of things I never thought he was capable of doing.
“Alright, that’s enough.” My mother climbs to the stage, visibly ruffled, and I bite my lip. My mother is the poster child for grace and sophistication, and my role model. A knot of worry twists in my stomach, tightening quickly. I hope Mom’s okay.
