Chapter 8
Chapter 8: The Snakes in the Grass
Ryan froze. "What?"
"Get out of my office," I repeated, my voice dropping to that icy, calm register that terrified my board of directors. "You didn't come here to apologize to my daughter. You came here because the walls are closing in, and you're realized your golden safety net is gone. You risked my company’s reputation to fund your lifestyle."
Ryan’s face contorted from desperation back into that ugly, vicious mask I knew all too well. He stood up, slamming his hands on my desk.
"You think you’re so perfect?!" he screamed. "You’ve always hated me! You hated me because Mom and Dad loved me more! You worked yourself to death just to prove a point, and now you’re using your money to destroy the family! You’re a monster, Julian! A selfish, lonely monster!"
"If being a monster means protecting my wife and daughter from a parasite like you, then I’ll wear the crown proudly," I said. I pressed the intercom button. "Security, please escort Mr. Vance out of the building. Permanently. If he sets foot on the property again, have him arrested for trespassing."
Ryan staggered back as the door flew open and two burly security guards walked in. They didn't hesitate. Each grabbed an arm, lifting him slightly off his feet.
"You'll pay for this!" Ryan screamed as he was dragged down the hallway, his voice echoing off the glass walls. "I'll tell everyone what you did! I'll ruin your company! You hear me, Julian?! I’ll destroy you!"
The heavy doors shut, cutting off his fading threats.
I sat in the silence of my office for a long moment. My heart was pounding, but my mind was perfectly clear. I picked up my phone and called Marcus.
"Marcus. Ryan just left my office. He mentioned debts to some questionable people, secured using our corporate name. Find out who they are. If they approach my parents' house, I want our security detail ready. But do not pay them a single dime. Let them go after Ryan."
"On it," Marcus said. "And Julian? Your mother just posted a massive statement on Facebook. She’s calling you an abusive, controlling son who is financially starving his family out of spite. It’s starting to get picked up by local blogs."
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I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them, looking at Maya's box.
"Let her post," I said. "They want a public war? Let's give them one. Compile every single receipt, every bail-out check, every paid-off debt, and every rehab facility bill I’ve paid for Ryan over the last ten years. Prepare it for a press release."
