"Don't take yourself there, Ashlyn. I'm assuming that was a much smaller deal than your clients," Miller states flatly.
"Maybe, DG Creations was small bits, but Brasher Resorts would have hit the mother load for my portfolio. Regardless, my southern roots died and the Prada Princess was born. My peers accepted this immediately. They brought me into the fold. That's when Brock Donner noticed my existence; otherwise, I'd been invisible. My new attitude was merciless, unpitying, harsh. I owned the cold-hearted bitch title. Soon, my reputation spread, and everyone wanted me. My job was a collaboration with multiple areas of law—tax, employment, anti-trust, general counsel. I went after weaknesses, held no empathy, and steamrolled when it benefited my clients without a care who was taking the brunt. That's when I became a desirable commodity in their eyes."
"Fuck, Ash, what does that even mean? It's like I'm listening to a stranger." Andrew's face twists in pain. "That is not my sister."
"A particular deal was getting close. We'd ironed all details except one. The financial gain for my firm would be my largest yet. The bonus would pay for my shareholder stocks when they offered me my place as a partner. Like a shark, I could smell the blood in the water and went into negotiations knowing no one would beat me. In the end, I laid out an ultimatum that left minor concessions for the seller. It was partially a bluff because I knew my client was willing to bend.
"It settled, and because of me, hundreds of people were laid off with one-half their deserved severance packages and half their benefits. I screwed over a decent company in the effort to prove I had the balls to have a seat at the table. And I did it for a fucking measly four million dollars."
There's a stillness that's settled, and I'm scared to face them, so I take another sip of coffee that's now cold and sour, landing in my stomach with a thud.
"Four million dollars is a shit ton of money, Ash. You did your job." Austin tries to find a positive, but I can't let any of them think this is anything but what it was.
Selfish, grand, and cruel.
"Remember, Austin, I was the shark. I knew the company wasn't in a position to walk away from the deal. This acquisition was the perfect union of highly respected in their industry. The problem was too many locations once the acquisition was complete. There would be job losses, but the employment law team had recommended an allotment for the future unemployed. I agreed it was fair, but knew I could go lower. It was me who cut that number and took money from those poor people. When it was done, the owner signed off on the paperwork with tears pouring down her cheeks. I walked out with my head held high. The client sent me a case of champagne that cost more than my rent."
"Maybe we should take a break," Miller suggests, his hand caressing the base of my neck.
"Actually, I need to use the restroom." I push up, still avoiding their eyes. Papers fly everywhere and crinkle under my feet as I go to Miller's bedroom.
It's coming fast, rumbling low in my gut, bile rising in my throat. I make it to the toilet before my knees give out and everything comes up. Hot tears burn my skin as I heave over and over, the expression on that client's face seared in my brain. Many other days like that replay through my mind, causing me to vomit harder.
"Fuck. Jesus baby." Miller curls around me, his hands covering where I'm holding my head. "Get it out, I've got you."
Tremors turn into quakes as he soothes me.
The toilet flushes, a cool cloth coats my neck, murmurs fill the room, but all I can do is purge the poison in my heart. There's no telling how long we all stay in that little bathroom. Even when there's nothing left in my stomach, there's no energy to move.
"Please tell me that's the worst of it." Austin slides another wet cloth in front of my face. "I'm fucking glad you walked away from that shithole."
"That's not the worst. That's the catalyst. What happened next is the real gem."
"Give us a minute." Miller hauls me up easily and clutches me like a baby to his body, placing me on the vanity. I stare into space while he fidgets around me.
"Here," he places my toothbrush in my hand.
"Ugh, I don't think putting this in my mouth is smart."
He takes my finger, swipes the toothpaste off, and brings it to my mouth. I lick it off, take a sip of the water he's holding, and swish it around before spitting it out.
"Aren't you disgusted? The woman you love is a heartless, screaming bitch that hurt people."
"The woman I love was manipulated and deceived. That person no longer exists. The past is the past. Nothing is going to change how much I love you. Told you already, it's my addiction."
"I hope you feel that way when you hear the rest."
Gently, he finishes toweling off my face and positions me back in his arms. There's no escaping his hold when he sits, draping me across his lap, the papers now piled on his coffee table.
I go into my head, dig down deep, and find that place that I buried. "I was the golden girl, riding the high for another month. My bonus was well over enough to buy my equity. There was another huge case the firm was working on that needed my expertise. I was consulting on the merger side. It was a Telecom group that was skating the edge of FCC regulations. It was enormous. A lot of the prominent in Chicago had a stake in this, on both sides. The FCC would require thorough diligence. Judges, city officials, bankers, the network was large. It was years in the making and Brock was in the center circle.
"My presence
