Page 62 of Shattered Souls
GRAYSON
The conference room at Van Doren Holdings is all polished mahogany and cold glass, a space designed to impress with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Springview skyline. Our senior executives are currently seated around the long table, their faces a mix of anticipation and guarded caution. I can feel their eyes on me, but it'shispresence at the end of the table—in the seat that should bemine,but he deliberately arrived before the meeting began to claim it as his own—that commands the room, no matter how much I hate it.
Despite the fact I’m not sitting at the head of the table, I take charge of the meeting as though I own the room—because Idoown the room. Leaning forward, my hands are clasped on the table as I stare down each one of my employees. “I’ve reviewed the terms of the merger, and I believe the deal is sound. However, I think we should negotiate a better price before proceeding.” My voice is steady and confident, but inside, there’s a simmering frustration I’m fighting to keep in check.
Before I can continue, Bertram speaks up, unaware of how his unwanted input makes my teeth grind. “That’s an interesting point, Son.” His voice, smooth and calm, slices through the air, and my nostrils flare at the subtle undermining of calling mesoninstead of using my name when we’re at work. “But in my experience, pushing too hard on price can sometimes make us appear… desperate.” He pauses, letting the words hang in the air, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips. “I’m not sure if you’ve had the chance to fully grasp the nuances of these types of negotiations yet.”
I grit my teeth, my jaw tightening as I force myself to remain composed. He’s cutting me down in front of everyone, chipping away at the authority I’ve worked so hard to build since he was locked away. But that’s his game—always has been. Undermine, manipulate, take control without ever making it obvious.
He continues, looking past me to address the rest of the room as if I’m not even here. “I’ve been through dozens of these deals, and I know when to push and when to show restraint. Perhaps we should move forward with the current offer rather than risk losing the deal entirely. After all, we wouldn’t want our partners to question our commitment, would we?”
I see heads around the table nodding, some of them barely masking their doubt. They’re buying into his bullshit, just like they always have. My frustration deepens, a slow-burning anger that I have to swallow down. He’s not just questioning my judgment—he’s painting me as inexperienced, unqualified, like I’m some fucking intern who hasn’t earned his seat at this table.
He leans back in his chair, all smug confidence, as he glances around the room. “I’m sure everyone here understands the importance of maintaining our reputation in the market, especially during such a transitional period for our leadership.”
Transitional period.As if I’m just a placeholder, biding time until he can swoop back in and take over. The weight of his words presses down on me, the subtle insinuation that I’m not enough—that I’ll never be enough.
The silence stretches, the executives waiting for my response. I can feel the frustration knotting tighter in my chest, but I can’tlet it show. Not here. Not in front of them. I take a breath, forcing the tension out of my shoulders as I meet his gaze, trying to match his calm with my own.
“We’ll take all perspectives into account,” I say, my voice steady, even though inside I’m raging. “But I believe it’s worth revisiting the terms before we make any final decisions. This deal is too important to rush.”
There’s a murmur of agreement, but it’s faint, lacking the conviction I’d hoped for. They’re uncertain—about the deal and about me—and he knows it. He’s planted the seeds of doubt and is waiting to see how deep they’ll take root.
I lean back in my chair, feeling the heavy weight of the room’s gaze. He’s sitting there, looking every bit the concerned father, the wise advisor, but I know better. He’s playing his game, and no matter how much I want to call him out, I can’t. Not yet. I need them to see me as the leader, not just the son trying to fill shoes too big for him.
But with every word he says, every sideways glance, he’s making that more challenging. And for all my frustration, all my anger, I know this is just the beginning. He won’t stop until he’s back in control, and I’m just another pawn on his chessboard.
But I won’t let that happen. Not again.
As has become a regular occurrence since my father’s unwanted return, I take to the hallways that afternoon, eavesdropping on water cooler gossip. My father has supporters among the employees, but many remember what he did. Plus, the facts speak for themselves, and there’s no denying that I’ve grown this business more in the past five years than he did the entiretwenty yearshe was in charge.
It’s during one of these walks, shortly before the end of the day, when I spot David glancing the opposite way down the hall before slipping into an empty office.
David is a weasely bitch. One my father has trained well. A junior employee at the firm, he worked his way up to a position well beyond his capabilities under my father’s tenure. Firing him is something I’ve had on myto-dolist for quite some time, but with all the other shit I’ve had going on, I haven’t gotten around to it.
Curious as to what he’s up to, I move closer. Unlike the offices on the higher exec floors, this one has no glass offering a view into the hallway, so I can get right up to the ajar door without being seen by David or anyone else in the room.
The hushed murmur of voices stops me at the door, my ear straining toward the room as I listen.
“Why are you bringing this to mehere?” That infuriated growl most definitely belongs to my father. “I told you not to bother me with issues like this at work.”
“My apologies, sir.” That voice is familiar, too. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, and I—well, I didn’t know what to do. It’s… a lot. All the time. S?—”
“Deal with it, David,” my father snaps. “That’s what I pay you for.”
There’s a tense pause before David’s meek response. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
Fearing that is the end of their behind-closed-doors scheming, I slip away. The entire walk back to my office, I replay the conversation, wondering what the hell they were discussing. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear my father using David to garner control of the other executives and board members. Using him to do his dirty work. But this sounded more… personal. Closing the office door behind me, I make a mental note to get Dax to keep an eye on my father and David. Whatever it is they’re up to, I want to know.
“How can there be no new leads?” I demand several days later as I pace back and forth across Xander’s shoebox of an office. “A child doesn’t just disappear.”
“Children disappear without a trace every day of the week,” Dax unhelpfully points out.
Whirling toward where he’s sitting, laptop open in front of him, I smack my hand down on the desk. “Not my sister!”Not Riley’s fucking kid!
The way Dax pierces me with his stark blue eyes would have lesser men pissing themselves. Dax is the type of man who walks into a room and you instantly know he’s in charge, not by words but by sheer aura. His eyes, cold and calculating, miss nothing. Even now, as he sizes me up, a predator assessing his prey. I’m not Royce. I’m not a fighter and don’t have his build, even though I work out religiously in our home gym. Regardless, Dax could undoubtedly knock me out with one punch if he wanted to.
Right now, I don’t give a damn. I don’t give two fucks if I piss him off. Between my father fucking everything up for me at work and messing with Riley, Aurora being missing, and the fact we haveno fucking leads, plus having to see Riley’s heartbroken face every single day, I’mthisclose to snapping. I’m at my limit, and the next person who gets in my face will get my fist in theirs.
