The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante

Chapter Twenty-Three

BRANDON

This evening has messed with my head. What I need is to get the normal back into my life. Dinner with Jessica. Sex. But that’s out of the question given that we haven’t even been to first base.

I’m losing my edge. In my desire to acquire, I’m messing up on an industrial scale.

Pursuing Jessica.

Pursuing Greenways.

The way I’m feeling, I’m not sure I’m going to walk away with either of those things.

By the time I leave, I am so bone-tired, all I can think of is dropping into my bed. I leave my dead phone to charge up in the living room and then I crash onto my bed. I don’t even care that I haven’t showered or gotten out of these dirty clothes.

It’s only when I check my phone the next morning that I see a heap of messages, many from the managers working for me. And then, just as I’m about to dial my voicemail, I see a text that turns my lungs to stone.

Emma was involved in a car accident last night, driving to meet a friend. She’s in a critical condition in the hospital.

Emma. My PA.

My friend. My conscience.

The woman who keeps me on the straight and narrow.

Fuck.

How can this be?

Shock propels me into action, and I call up one of the managers to find out where she is.

I rush over to the hospital. Guilt—a familiar emotion that fits me like a second skin—mingles with fear and worry. This woman is my conscience. She tries to keep me from being a complete jerk. She’s my right hand, and my left. She’s the best PA anyone could have, and I don’t know how I’m going to get shit done without her.

They won’t let me in to see her because I’m not family. I see an elderly couple crying as they come out of the room I’ve been told she is in. I assume they are her parents. I don’t want to bother them, but I need to know, and no one is giving me answers.

I can see her through the window. Her eyes are closed and tubes are going into her.

Is she sleeping or in a coma?

I put my hand on the door, I’m about to stride into the room.

“Excuse me, sir. Are you part of the family?”

“I’m her boss.”

“Only family are allowed to see her, sir.”

“I need to know how she is.” I twist the door handle, poised to walk in.

The nurse looks annoyed. “Sir—Don’t make me call security.”

Fury swirls from the depths of my belly. “My family has paid for a wing in this goddamn hospital. The Philip Hawks wing? It’s named after my father, so don’t you tell me I can’t—”

“Is there a problem?” A doctor intervenes. The nurse whispers something into his ear. When he looks at me, I can tell he’s trying to gauge if I’m lying or not. I pull out my business card. It’s a shitty, fickle thing to do, but money and power can open doors and get you access and information.

“My company, and if you look up my father, you’ll find he paid for that wing in this place.” The doctor assesses me for one uncomfortable second before opening the door.

I suck in a horrified breath. It almost sounds like I’ve choked. Emma’s eyes are closed and she looks peaceful. At least that’s something. I clutch onto that line of hope like it’s my safety net.

“Is she in pain?”

“No.”

He tells me she has a ruptured spleen, a collapsed lung, a fractured pelvis and head trauma which they are trying to assess the extent of.

Fuck.

“She’s lucky to be alive,” he informs me.

“What happened?”

The doctor tells me that Emma was involved in a collision with another vehicle. When he tells me where it happened, my body sags with the weight of guilt. She was around the block from Hawks Enterprises.

It happened near my office. Whether she was going there or leaving from there is irrelevant. She was only there because I had asked her to do something for me.

This is my fault.

Seeing her lifeless and silent, I wonder how I’ll get through the coming weeks.

Me.

A selfish good-for-nothing piece of shit.

How is it that in this moment, it’s me I think of?

Because that’s all I’ve ever done.

“You need to leave now, sir.”

“She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”

“She can make a full recovery. It’s going to take months before she’s back to normal, and of course, we still need to see the extent of the head trauma.”

My stomach lurches, and I fight the urge to throw up. “The couple who came out of here earlier, are those her parents?” The doctor nods.

Emma didn’t have a partner, as far as I know. Although I kept her suitably informed of most things in my life, she didn’t reciprocate.

I leave and start to head towards the elevator doors, but just as I press the button to descend, I turn and head back. I spend a few moments talking to her parents, trying to comfort them, watching them cry in front of a stranger who can do nothing to alleviate their pain.

As I walk away, all I can think of is how I was going to tell her how last night went. She wanted to know about it. She believes in Kyra and the work Redhill is doing. I was beginning to think that Emma is Team Kyra rather than my PA. She has never approved of my actions at Redhill, and now I can’t even tell her how things are going. She would be interested in knowing what we did tonight.

Shame curdles in my chest when I recall my initial plan. It’s bad enough that Yvette’s boy and girl have raked up a cauldron of memories.

Now this.

She wouldn’t have been in that accident had it not been for me. It’s all my fault. My fucking fault. How is it that I’ve ruined this woman’s life? As if a mirror is being held up to my face, I see myself for the monster I am. For what I’ve done to Emma, and what I have set out to do to Kyra.

I am my father’s son. Whichever father you look at.

I don’t want to go home. Even if I go and do a high-intensity workout, it won’t help.

That’s not the solution for the healing I need. I go for a long walk, heading towards Greenways, to remind myself why I have embarked on this crazy-ass journey. I question my motives, because I don’t feel right. Maybe taking a look at that piece of land will remind me of what is at stake; the multi-million-dollar development and all that I stand to make from it.

I head in the direction of Redhill. The area is deathly quiet on the weekend. Factories and buildings stand silent. When these become million-dollar condos filled with people who have good money, this place won’t be dead. It will be quietly, discreetly buzzing. The row of stores will have the kinds of eating places that people will want to visit.

Even as I try to imagine this, my heart is heavy and I’ve lost the will to continue with my deception. I close my eyes, trying to get a handle on my life, because right now, I am not feeling this. My world has turned slate gray, hard and dark. I don’t want to do this anymore.

“Brad?” My eyelids fly open. “Brad?” Kyra walks towards me, smiling and happy, as if she’s pleased to see me. Oh, shit. “What are you doing here?”

My mouth opens, but no words come out because I don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to start. She seems warmer, and friendlier, staring up at me differently.

“I just, uh… I was in the area.” It’s a lame answer, but it’s true, and it’s not like I can really tell her why I’m here.

“In the area?” She lifts her hand to her forehead because the rays of the sun are getting in her eyes. She squints. “Do you live around here?”

“Not so far away.”

“I didn’t know.”

Thank goodness I didn’t put my address down on my resume. I nod, wondering how to get out of this mess. I need to go. To walk away. “What are you doing here?”

“I had some cleaning up to do. I left soon after you did last night, but I needed to do a quick check of the inventory. We need to have enough supplies for the upcoming food night.”

Another food night?

Doesn’t she get tired of this shit? We had a big event last night and here she is, bright-eyed and eager, planning for the regular weekly event.

I feel exhausted just thinking about it.

She’s here now, on a Sunday, on her day off, working. As much as I’m trying to resurrect my defenses, they always seem to get weaker when I’m around this woman. I don’t have the fight for any of it.

“Are you okay, Brad?” she asks me. What do I tell her? Where do I start? A piece of me longs to open up and let it all out because I am done with carrying all of this baggage around with me.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” she asks suddenly. “It’s almost noon, and I’ve been here since eight.”

“Since eight? Don’t you have a life, Lewis?”

“Yes, I have a life.” She looks taken aback, as if I’ve hit her with something she wasn’t expecting. I didn’t mean to upset her. Hell. She’s been here since eight in the morning and given the kind of day we had yesterday, my admiration for her just tripled. But I’m feeling contemplative, and not in the mood to talk or go for something to eat. “I can’t.”

Her expression sobers and the light goes out of her eyes, like a flickering candle gasping for its last breath. “Can’t?” I see her brain going into overdrive, maybe she’s wondering if I have other plans. She alluded to it last night when she wondered if I had anything better to do on my Saturday night. “Yeah, I …” I give a gentle kick to a piece of rubble lying on the ground.

“That’s okay, you don’t need to explain. You have things to do. I get it, I really do—”

“My friend was in a car accident. I’ve just come from the hospital.”

Hurt widens her eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is he okay?”

I stare at the ground, because seeing Emma the way she was, I don’t know. She looked lifeless. Not the Emma I know. “The doctor said it will be a slow recovery. She’s hurt really bad. Really bad.”

“I’m … I’m so sorry, Brad.” When I look up, there is a knowing in her eyes. She’s looking at me a different way. “What happened?”

I tell her what I know, that it was a car accident and that my friend is in a really bad shape. Just talking about it makes me choke up.

This is all my fault.

Mine.

I lower my head. It’s not just Emma’s news that has me feeling lost. Recalling the past from last night and now this, it’s dented my soul. It has crushed me and I no longer feel invincible. I feel less like Brandon Hawks than ever.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say, or how to be,” I say.

“Brad.” In that moment, she steps forward and places her hands on my arms, as if to console me.

“I can’t come into work for a few days. I have … I have things I need to take care of …”

“You don’t need to explain. Take as much time off as you need.”

Emma held everything together. She was the fortress between me and the managers, the teams and all the people who keep Hawks Enterprises going.

She is irreplaceable.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” I mutter. In that moment, I feel so broken, so bereft, all I can do is put my arms around her. She stiffens for a split second, before she gives in, and then her arms come around me strong and firm.

I just need to hold something. I just need to have someone hold me.