Chapter 7 The Old Man's Test

Ivy

Every step I took towards his study felt like walking into a cage.

“Sit down, Zara,” Alistair said, his voice sounding like dry paper, and he didn’t even look up from the desk.

I did what I was told, keep my back straight and my hands folded in my lap, because that is what a girl like Zara would do. But my heart was hitting my ribs so hard I thought he might hear it, but I kept my face still.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked, and my voice didn't shake, which was a small miracle.

He finally looked up, his eyes were sharp even though he looked like he was fading away, and he moved like every breath was a heavy weight he had to carry. He pushed a folder toward the edge of the dark wood desk, and the room felt too quiet.

“Tell me what you know about the Brennan merger,” he said, just like that, no hello, no how are you.

I hesitated, blinking, and let a little bit of confusion show because I needed a second to think. “I… sorry?”

“The Hale Group’s acquisition of Brennan Industries,” he said, and his fingers tapped the desk, a slow, annoying sound. “It was handled before our arrangement was finalized, but I want to know your thoughts on the valuation, since you’ll be part of this family now.”

My mind started racing, pulling at memories. I had read the papers father threw in the trash, I had listened when I was supposed to be invisible.

“The valuation seemed high,” I said, choosing my words like I was walking across a frozen lake, “but the Brennan patents on green energy were the real prize, weren't they? If you didn’t buy them now, someone else would have in six months, and then the price would have tripled.”

Alistair didn’t move, he just stared at me, his eyes digging into mine like he was looking for a crack in a wall. I held my breath, wondering if I had said too much, but then he leaned back in his chair.

“That’s an interesting perspective,” he said, and I couldn't tell if interesting meant he liked it or if he knew I was lying.

Alistair picked up a pen, turning it over in his hands. “Speaking of your father, how is his health?”

The question felt like a trap, and I felt my blood go cold, because he didn't ask about my mother. Everyone knew my mother was the one dying, but he was asking about the architect, the man who had built this whole lie.

“He’s… fine,” I said, and I tried to make it sound casual. “As ever.”

“Good,” Alistair said, and he started writing something down, not looking at me anymore. “Men like him usually are. They have a way of surviving while everyone else around them breaks, don’t they?”

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just sat there, feeling the weight of the secrets in the room.

“You’re very composed, Zara,” he said suddenly, setting the pen down and looking at me again. “Remarkably so for someone in your situation.”

“I was raised to be,” I said, and that was the truth, even if it was a version of the truth he didn't understand. I was raised to be a shadow.

“Were you,” he said, and it wasn't a question. He tilted his head a little bit, and for a second, I thought he was going to reach out and pull the mask right off my face. “Because the girl I expected, based on everything your father told me… I don’t think she would have come. I think she would have fought me every step of the way.”

The room felt like it was shrinking, the walls closing in until there was no air left to breathe. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he said, and he gave me a small, thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Just an observation. You may go, Zara.”

I stood up, my legs feeling weak, and I walked toward the door as fast as I could without looking like I was running. I had come in here thinking I could manage him, thinking I could play the part and keep him happy, but now I felt like he had been the one playing with me. He was sick, he was dying, but he wasn't stupid.

I was almost at the door, my hand reaching for the cold brass handle, when his voice stopped me again.

“I’m glad the arrangement held,” he said, and he didn't even turn around to look at me. “Despite everything.”

I almost froze, my heart stopping in my chest.

I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, but the words followed me, sticking to my skin. Despite everything.

Did he know? Did he know that Zara had packed a bag and climbed out a window in the middle of the night? Did he know that my father had dragged me out of my room and told me to put on her dress and her name?

I walked down the long, dark hall, past the paintings of people who had lived and died in this house, and I felt like I was disappearing.

If Alistair Hale was noticing me, it meant the lie was already starting to fall apart, and if it fell, it would crush me first. I leaned against the wall, taking a shaky breath, and wondered if Zara was out there somewhere, free, while I was trapped in a golden cage with a man who could see right through the bars.

I had to be better. I had to be more like her.

I headed toward the stairs, but his voice kept echoing in my head, over and over, a warning I couldn't ignore. Despite everything. He knew something, and he was keeping it like a weapon, waiting for the right time to use it.