He still manages to draw the wrong conclusion. “No. I haven’t been to any business meetings, remember?” I shake off the accusation. “What does this mean for our remaining interest?”
Dread digs a pit in my stomach. If we no longer hold the majority interest we can be outvoted. I’ve watched it happen to my father’s friends. I’ve seen empires crumble, brought down by one mistake.
“That our father gave away nearly half of our family’s remaining stake in the company.” Malcolm stands and searches the room. “Christ. Felix, where are you?”
Felix moves dutifully to the bar cart and pours Malcolm a drink. He always instinctively knows what we need. Is that why he needs to be here today? Are we going to need a steady supply of alcohol to cope with the damage?
Malcolm accepts the tumbler from him with a terse thanks.
“But the family controlled sixty percent of the company. Angus said so!” Ginny clearly isn’t following the math. I know she could, though, because I’ve seen the woman shop a sale at Saks. “I don’t understand where the forty-nine comes in.”
Malcolm flashes her a scorching look. She shrinks from it as if he’s actually burned her.
“It means we could lose everything.” He abandons his empty glass, pressing his index fingers to his temples.
“But—”
“He lied, Ginny,” I tell her bluntly. After all these years, I don’t know how she’s surprised by this.
“It’s possible another party could buy a majority share in MacLaine Media, but unlikely,” Harding confirms.
“But who would do that?” I ask. “Why would anyone want control over a struggling media conglomerate?”
Malcolm rounds on me, bending down to get in my face. “I know the MacLaine name doesn’t mean anything to you, but you could pretend to respect it.”
“Our father had to jeopardize the entire family’s stake in the company to keep it afloat,” I point out. “It’s obviously failing. This has nothing to do with me.”
I don’t shrink like Ginny. The men of this family allowed this to happen. I should have pushed harder to be in the boardroom, to be part of these decisions. How did I not see this coming? The number of closed-door meetings and business dinners my father held had increased exponentially during the last year of his life, even once hospice care had begun. Had Malcolm really been kept out of the loop, or did he not realize what was going on? I’d trusted him to have the best interests at heart for our family. Now I feel stupid for blindly believing anyone was looking out for the rest of us.
“It has everything to do with you,” Malcolm mutters.
Now I’m on my feet, level with him at last. “What does that mean?”
“I think you should tell me.”
We stare each other down, him trying to elicit a confession and me trying to figure out what the hell he’s yammering about. It’s not as though we have secrets in this room. We’ve all paid a price for this family. That bond, forged in blood and sacrifice, is supposed to protect us for our past sins. But my participation in the family’s perverse narcissism has never been enough for Malcolm. Why should it be now?
“I don’t think there’s cause for concern,” Harding interrupts us. “All my research on the buyers suggests multiple individuals purchasing. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”
“So, wait…” Malcolm turns to Harding, but if he thinks he can change the subject, he’s mistaken.
“Why would this be my fault?” I step between them. I’m not going to decipher his riddles. I hold more stake in the company than he does. I have more to lose. Knowing Malcolm, he didn’t fail to notice that.
He pretends not to hear me. “Did he leverage the house? He didn’t leave it to either of us.”
That possibility hasn’t occurred to me until now.
Harding looks briefly at each of us as if seeking an ally. When he doesn’t find one, he reaches for his briefcase. “The good news is that the house remains in the family.”
“That is good news,” Felix says. He waits for someone to agree with him. When they don’t, he manages to find his smile anyway. “Malcolm. Adair. The house is safe.”
He’s trying to be encouraging, but bad news always accompanies good news. Are we on the verge of losing it, too? Even worse, do we have to split it? I can almost imagine Ginny gleefully dividing every object and room in the estate down the middle with tape.
It’s worse than that. “To my only grandchild Elodie MacLaine…”
Ginny stiffens at the slight. None of us missed the subtle reminder that he’d only had one grandchild. She’d failed him in that regard.
“To be held in trust under the supervision of Felix Gabriel.”
“Felix?” Ginny gasps, clutching her seat as she sways in her chair to look at Felix.
He goes perfectly still, except for the smile falling from his lips. I search his face for a sign that he’d known about this but find nothing except confused detachment, as though he’s contemplating the same question. Was it something he did? Had daddy indicated this might happen? Felix can’t see the answer to those questions, but looking to him now I understand why my father put him in this impossible position. I see Felix through the eyes of Angus MacLaine.
Felix, the cheerleader.
Felix, the father figure.
Felix, the one everyone runs to for help.
And for my father’s eyes alone: a rival. It’s revenge plain and simple. With one cunning move, my father has turned him into something else entirely: Felix, the enemy.
I know why Daddy did it. It’s not going to work on me. Malcolm I have less faith in. I tear my eyes away from Felix to see how my brother reacts.
Malcolm’s stony scowl isn’t leveled at Felix. It’s aimed at me. “Did you know about this?”
“What?” I nearly falter under the weight of his accusation. “Why would I know about this?”
“You’ve always
