Page 98 of Wicked Minds
I’ve been putting on a good damn show in front of Royce and Logan, arguing thatthey’rethe idiots in all of this… only what if they aren’t? What ifI’mthe one who has been a fool?
His lawyer pushes to his feet, garnering the attention of the entire room as he addresses the parole board.
“Members of the parole board,” he begins, voice steady and sure, carrying a weight that seems to resonate around the room. “I want to start by thanking all of you for giving up your time today to discuss the case of Mr. Bertram Van Doren.Throughout his incarceration, Mr. Van Doren has demonstrated a commitment to self-improvement and rehabilitation. He has actively participated in various educational and vocational programs within the prison system, displaying a genuine desire to better himself.”
His spiel goes on, listing all the ways my father has demonstrated that he is rehabilitated and has learned from his mistakes. I zone out, losing interest until one of the parole board members asks my father if he’d like to address the room.
My father stands, flattening a hand down the front of his suit to iron out the non-existent wrinkles.
“Thank you. Members of the parole board, I stand before you today with a deep sense of regret for my past actions. During my time in prison, I’ve had the opportunity to reflect on the choices that led me down the wrong path. I’ve worked hard to understand the impact of my actions on those affected by my decisions. I know I can never undo the pain I’ve caused. However, I’m committed to making amends.”
My brows furrow, creases deepening along my forehead as his words strike me. Not once do I recall my father expressing regret for embezzling company funds. Anger at having been caught—yes. Hostility for how everything came about—absolutely. But regret for the crime he did actually commit? No. Not once in the four years since his incarceration has he even mentioned the actual crime he committed.
A crime that nearly resulted in the demise of Van Doren Holdings.
One that broke our shareholders’ trust. That nearly decimated our family name.Mom’sfamily name.
If we’d gone under, jobs would have been lost. People left scrambling when their paychecks stopped. Families thrown into chaos.
His hatred—my hatred—has always been pinpointed on Riley: the instigator. She may have been the one who set all of this in motion, but while I’ve been elbow-deep in shit regarding the company, cursing my father’s name for being stupid enough to embezzle in the first place, I’ve never actually stopped to consider whether he’s remorseful.
“What are your plans upon release regarding Van Doren Holdings?” the female member of the parole board questions, expression stern as her eyes bore into my father.
“My son”—my father gestures in my direction—“has been responsible for the welfare of the company and employees in my absence, and he will continue to have the final say, along with input from shareholders.”
“Yes, but what aboutyou, Mr. Van Doren,” she pushes. “Doyouintend to have any controlling interest in the company?”
“No, ma’am. My son has more than proven himself capable of managing the family business these last four years.”
“A scrupulous eye has been kept on the company,” my father’s lawyer adds, observing the board. “And I have obtained reports from employees and shareholders who attest that Grayson Van Doren has done an adequate job of reviving the company in his father’s absence.”
Adequate, my fucking ass.
The muscle in my jaw flutters as I grind my teeth, wholly unaware that such reports were being gathered. Not that it would change anything—I like to think that I treat all of my employees with the respect they deserve. The people at Van Doren Holdings are practically my family. I grew up around them; I’m responsible for them.
“I will, of course, be at hand to consult should Grayson require it. Just as I have been during my incarceration.” It's more like trying to run things from behind the scenes, but sure, spin it whichever way you please. “However, for the time being,at least until I can gain the trust of the staff and shareholders, I only wish to help where I can as a regularemployeeof the company.”
“So you have no plans to return to your previous role as CEO?”
“No. All I wish is to spend time getting to know my son again and rebuilding my life.”
I sit up straighter in my seat, wondering if my father means anything he’s saying. It doesn’t exactly fit with the narrative he’s been telling me. It was only last month that he said he’d have to get the lawyers to undo my new green energy dealwhen he was back in charge.Yet, today, he’s telling the parole board that he’ll be a mere employee of his own company upon release?
Yeah, the board might buy it, but I sure as hell don’t.
Seemingly satisfied with my father’s answers, the woman nods, and the room falls into a preemptive silence while the parole board deliberates amongst themselves. My father and lawyer talk in quiet voices, leaving me to try and read the lips of the parole board members.
Tension bleeds into the air, and my palms grow sweaty. This is it. This is the moment we’ve been working toward for four long years.
My heart crashes against my chest in indecision, and I’m not entirely sure which outcome I’m hoping for.
Release, obviously. He’s my dad. Of course, I ultimately want him to be free.
Shoving away the screaming voice in my head telling me to stop lying to myself, I cling to that belief as I lean forward in my seat, waiting with bated breath as the first member of the board eyes my father.
“Mr. Van Doren,” he announces. “The parole board believes you have demonstrated significant efforts toward rehabilitationand have shown remorse for your actions. We hereby grant you parole.”
A whooshing drowns out any further noise as my stomach twists itself into knots, so tangled that I’ll need surgery to undo them all.We hereby grant you parole.The words hang in the air like a pillow, threatening to suffocate me.
