Chapter 2 - THE COMPANY TWO BLOCKS AWAY
For several seconds after I said I was opening my own company, nobody spoke.
The Christmas lights continued blinking around the room.
The fireplace crackled.
Somewhere in the kitchen, a glass clinked against a plate.
But the people sitting around my parents' living room looked as though someone had suddenly turned the sound off.
My father stared at me.
Not angry yet.
Confused.
That was almost funny.
Benedict Brooks had spent twenty-six years believing he understood me completely.
He knew exactly how much pressure I could tolerate.
He knew how many times he could criticize me before I finally pushed back.
He knew I would eventually apologize if I raised my voice.
He knew I would come back after every argument.
He knew because I had trained him.
Not intentionally.
But I had.
Every time he dismissed me, I stayed.
Every time Roxanne took credit for something I had done, I stayed.
Every time my mother told me to be the bigger person, I became smaller instead.
And now he was looking at me like he had suddenly discovered that the quietest person in the room could leave.
“You're quitting?” he finally asked.
“Yes.”
“Tonight?”
“I'll submit my resignation Monday morning.”
Roxanne laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was the kind people use when they believe someone has said something ridiculous.
“You're serious.”
“Very.”
My father slowly placed his bourbon on the table.
“Adriana, you're emotional.”
“No.”
“You've had a difficult evening.”
“I've had a difficult twenty years.”
His face tightened.
Gabriel looked down.
My mother whispered my name.
“Adriana…”
I turned toward her.
“You watched Sienna cry.”
She looked away.
“You watched your granddaughter sit there holding a broken toy while everyone laughed.”
“Your father was joking.”
“He was.”
I nodded.
“And that's exactly why I finally understand.”
My mother frowned.
“Understand what?”
“That it was never going to change.”
Nobody answered.
I picked up the shopping bags.
“I bought Dad a vintage watch because I remembered him telling me once that he regretted selling his father's.”
My father's eyes flickered.
“And I bought Mom a necklace with Grandma's birthstone.”
My mother stared at me.
“I spent weeks finding it.”
She swallowed.
“But I don't want either of you to have them.”
Roxanne crossed her arms.
“You're really going to throw away gifts because Dad made a joke?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
I paused.
“I'm throwing away a relationship because of a pattern.”
Her smile disappeared.
Gabriel quietly stood.
“Adriana…”
“I appreciate you defending Sienna.”
He nodded.
“But I don't want you dragged into this.”
“I already am.”
I looked at my daughter through the hallway.
Sienna was sitting beside Gabriel, clutching the broken horse.
She had stopped crying.
That frightened me more than the tears.
Children should cry when adults hurt them.
Silence meant they were beginning to believe the hurt was deserved.
I walked toward her.
“Ready to go?”
She nodded.
I took her coat from the chair.
As I helped her put it on, my father called after me.
“You'll be back.”
I stopped.
I didn't turn around.
“You think so?”
“You always come back.”
I looked over my shoulder.
“That's because I always thought I had something to prove.”
His expression hardened.
“And now?”
“Now I have something to protect.”
I left.
The cold air hit my face the second we stepped outside.
Sienna held my hand.
For almost half a block, neither of us spoke.
Then she looked up.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you really quitting?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
I stopped walking.
“No.”
She looked confused.
“I need you to understand something.”
I knelt.
“You didn't cause this.”
“But Grandpa was mad because of me.”
“No.”
“He said I'm not the favorite.”
I held her cheeks gently.
“Sweetheart, there is no such thing as being worth more or less because someone else chooses to love you differently.”
She looked down.
“I wanted him to like my picture.”
“I know.”
“I made it for him.”
“I know.”
“I thought he would put it on his desk.”
My throat tightened.
“He should have.”
She looked at the broken horse.
“What do I do with this?”
I took it from her.
“You don't have to keep it.”
“Can we throw it away?”
“Yes.”
She looked relieved.
We dropped it into a trash bin two blocks from my parents' house.
Then Sienna did something unexpected.
She took my hand with both of hers.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I'm glad you quit.”
I almost laughed through my tears.
“You are?”
She nodded.
“You looked sad there.”
That sentence stayed with me all night.
Because she was right.
The next morning, I woke before sunrise.
I made coffee.
Opened my laptop.
And started writing my resignation.
My company had been called Apex Solutions.
My company would be called Brooks Strategic Partners.
I didn't want my father's name.
I didn't want his logo.
I didn't want his office.
I didn't want his permission.
I wanted something built from the ground up.
At 8:17 a.m., my phone started ringing.
My father.
I ignored it.
Again.
Again.
Then my mother.
Then Roxanne.
Then my father again.
Finally, Gabriel called.
I answered.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Dad has been calling everyone.”
“I figured.”
“He says you're making a huge mistake.”
“I expected that too.”
There was a pause.
“Adriana, I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Don't sign anything yet.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Dad is scared.”
I almost smiled.
“Of me?”
“Not exactly.”
“What then?”
Gabriel lowered his voice.
“Apex isn't doing as well as he says.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“I've been noticing things for months.”
“What kind of things?”
“Accounts receivable.”
I stopped.
“How bad?”
“I don't know.”
“Gabriel.”
“I don't know.”
He exhaled.
“But yesterday I found a spreadsheet on Dad's desk.”
“What did it show?”
“Three major clients haven't paid in more than six months.”
“That happens.”
“Not when the invoices are marked paid.”
I stared at the wall.
“What?”
“Someone has been entering payments that never came in.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Who has access?”
“Dad. Roxanne. You. The finance director.”
I went quiet.
Then I remembered something.
Six months earlier, I had questioned a set of numbers that didn't make sense.
My father had told me to stop digging.
I hadn't.
Two days later, the spreadsheet had been corrected.
I had assumed someone had made an innocent accounting error.
Now I wasn't so sure.
“Gabriel,” I said carefully.
“Yes?”
“Don't confront Dad.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone is hiding something, I don't want them to know we know.”
He was silent.
“Okay.”
“Send me copies of anything you find.”
“I will.”
We hung up.
At 9:00 a.m., I walked into Apex Solutions.
The receptionist smiled.
“Morning, Adriana.”
“Morning.”
People looked up as I passed.
Some knew.
Some didn't.
I went directly to my office.
My resignation letter was already printed.
I placed it on my father's desk.
He was standing by the window.
“You're really doing this.”
“Yes.”
“You'll regret it.”
“Maybe.”
“You can't build a company overnight.”
“I know.”
“You don't have enough capital.”
“I do.”
He turned.
“What?”
I met his eyes.
“I've been saving for years.”
He stared at me.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he laughed.
“You think clients are going to follow you?”
I didn't answer.
He walked closer.
“You work for Apex.”
“Not anymore.”
“You don't own those relationships.”
“No.”
I picked up my bag.
“But people remember who answers their calls.”
He stared at me.
“And I answered every call.”
I walked out.
By noon, three employees had contacted me.
By three, seven.
By five, eleven.
Nobody officially resigned.
Not yet.
But they asked questions.
They wanted to know whether I was really leaving.
Whether my new company was real.
Whether they could apply.
At 6:30 p.m., I received my first email from a client.
Subject:
WHEREVER YOU GO, WE'RE COMING WITH YOU.
I stared at the screen.
Then another arrived.
And another.
By midnight, I had twelve clients asking for proposals.
I sat back in my chair.
For the first time, I realized something.
Maybe my father had never understood my value.
But his customers had.
The next morning, a courier delivered a package.
No return address.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed my parents.
Roxanne.
The entire family.
And me.
Taken at a company Christmas party five years earlier.
Someone had circled my face in red.
On the back were six handwritten words.
YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE WALKING AWAY FROM.
I stared at it.
Then my phone rang.
It was my father.
I answered.
His voice was no longer angry.
It was frightened.
“Adriana.”
“What?”
“Come back to Apex.”
“Why?”
A long pause.
“Because if you leave, you won't just hurt me.”
May you like
His voice dropped.
“You'll expose all of us.”
