Page 78 of Through You
“Not yet, she . . .” He licks his lower lip, and his voice is barely a whisper. “She destroyed something inside me that I’m not exactly sure I’ll ever be able to get back.”
“She was the one who cheated. She has no right to break you.
Please don’t give her that much power.”
Alex stands up. “Well. If you wanted me to leave you alone, you’ve succeeded.”
“Alex, wait, I didn’t mean to . . .”
He gives me a half smile. “I’ll be at your club enjoying myself by drinking and getting frisky in the candlelight lounge. Which, by the way, was a fantastic idea.”
I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“That’s right, it was mine. Oops!” He turns around and heads for the door.
“Don’t cause any trouble at my bar.”
Alex waves. “I’ll behave, old man.”
Once he’s gone, I read through Claudia’s entire résumé. My chest swells with pride. Despite all the daily chores on her plate, she’s managed to get high grades, and the quality of the work she put in her writing samples is impressive.
Hey, dummy? You can accomplish anything you set your mindto.
I admire her. She came from nothing, and her life hasn’t been filled with rainbows and happiness. Yet she’s never given up. She deserves more respect and recognition than someone like me, who never had to make an effort and had everything handed over on a silver platter. I didn’t even have to study that hard in university and I finished my degree with honors. I had an easy time learning, and made it through effortlessly. Right after I graduated my father put me at the head of his company, and in charge of its large workforce. I never had to start at the bottom and work my way up. I simply came in, and the job was mine. It’s possible that’s why I feel stuck in my professional life. The CEO title is the highest on the ladder, and there are no more steps left to climb, no more goals to achieve here. Perhaps if I had started from scratch, every promotion would have felt like a victory and a step up leading to this title. Maybe I sound ungrateful. However, I often wonder what it would have been like to have the chance to make it on my own, and spend more time with each department; grow along with everyone else by building a rapport with the staff as I worked my way up to becoming their leader.
I run my finger over Claudia’s résumé. “You have my respect, Claudia.”
Though her passion for singing never ceased, at twelve years old she discovered she wanted to study advertising and marketing, although her aptitude and abilities were apparent much earlier. I recall one summer afternoon when we were kids. Our school had organized a lemonade sale to raise funds for a good cause and our booth wasn’t selling very well.
“Let’s see.” Claudia grabbed our sign and crossed out the one dollar we were charging per glass and wrote “Now only 99¢ plus a complimentary sticker.”
I looked at her incredulously. “What are you doing?”
She smiled at me. “I have a bunch of sheets of stickers that I won. Everyone loves stickers, so I just improved our pitch.”
I rolled my eyes. “We aren’t going to sell anything.”
We sold out.
I suppose some people are born with inherent aptitudes that make them suited for specific careers. This memory makes me think of the night Ares begged our father to let him study medicine. I felt bad for my brother. To challenge and stand up to my father is completely out of the question. Sometimes I feel I can do it, but the urge dissipates when I come face-to-face with him.
I don’t want to be a nuisance, disappoint him, or cause him any pain. It’s hard to pinpoint the cause of my unwavering loyalty.
I’m not sure if it’s the promise I made to him or if maybe I don’t ever want to see him as broken as he was that night. The pain, the look of defeat, the tears rolling from his reddened eyes, they’re all seared into my mind. But I also want to support my brother.
It often feels like Fortune gets a kick out of placing me at a crossroads, forcing me to choose between who matters most to me.
Twenty-two
I am not talking to you.
ARTEMIS
I come out of the building, rubbing the back of my neck as I make my way to my car.
“Mr. Hidalgo!”
An older gentleman with gray hair wearing slightly wrinkled clothes approaches me.
