Net Worth by Amelia Wilde
1
Charlotte
Rain sweepsagainst the windshield so hard I can’t see the road. My wipers are so old and shitty they hardly make a dent. If one of them flew off right now, it would be a perfect fit for this afternoon. Summer humidity presses into the car, choking off the air. The AC struggles against it and I can’t get the settings right. It’s fogging the windshield from the inside. I only have a vague impression of thrashing green trees on either side of the road.
It reminds me of Mason Hill’s eyes.
Damn him, and his eyes.
I’ve been going to meetings since my dad started drinking too much to handle it. I’ve been holding his company together with both hands for a year and a half now. But the meeting I just left with Mason Hill was the worst.
He’s sabotaged all my other chances of saving my father’s failing business and our crumbling home and our family’s financial future. He followed me through the city, making sure I’d have to come crawling back to him. Not literally. I will never actually crawl for him. Never get on my knees for him.
My face heats. I can think never in the safety of the town car all I want, but I will do those things, if that’s what Mason wants. If that’s what he decides to do with me.
Because Mason Hill is the only one who can get us out of this spiral into bankruptcy and homelessness. He’s the man standing in the way.
It was one thing to agree to the deal with him. One thing to look into his dangerously green eyes and know he would only accept one thing in exchange for his help.
Me.
It’s going to be another thing entirely to get my father’s signature. For all the work I’ve done, he’s still the one in charge of the Cornerstone Development, the last project we have at Van Kempt Industries.
A leather folio sits on the passenger seat, raindrops beading on the cover. My clothes are soaked through from the walk to my car. A wild burst of hope—maybe the rain will have destroyed the papers, too, and I won’t have to do this. But I know it hasn’t. Everything Mason Hill owns is bulletproof. The Phoenix Enterprises building in the city gleams with glass and light. The contract will be intact. It’s me who might not end up that way.
I shiver under my wet clothes. My hair was destroyed by the rain, and even though it’s summer, the cold is sinking into my bones.
Or maybe it’s Mason Hill.
What are you going to do to me?
He’d looked at me with those green-gold eyes, his grip tight on my chin.
Whatever I fucking want.
The kiss was more final than any signature. A hard, bruising kiss, like I was already his property. My lip aches. I brush my fingertips over the place where his mouth touched mine. It felt like he’d whipped up the storm clouds himself just to prove he could, but that’s impossible. It’s impossible for a man to have that kind of power.
It’s all the other kinds he has.
Our gatehouse guard waves me past, and it’s hard not to think he knows. That everyone behind these gates knows what I’ve done already. Promised myself in exchange for losing everything.
That’s the one part I won’t tell my dad. Mason laughed at me when I asked him how I was supposed to get him to sign when all Mason’s terms and conditions for me are written out in black ink. His eyes sparkled at how naive I was. Did you think I’d add them to the main contract? No, Ms. Van Kempt, you’ll sign a separate addendum. I’ll file it here in my desk drawer. That way, your daddy can’t get in my way.
But my dad can still get in the way of the main deal, and that would be a disaster. For him. For my mom.
For me.
I know what’s waiting for me when I get back to the house. A pile of bills we have no hope of paying, a mother buckling under the stress of losing everything, and a father who’s exactly as much of an alcoholic as Mason Hill said he was. Down to our last pieces of furniture and my mother’s roses.
The turn onto our driveway feels rougher than normal, and a wild laugh bubbles out of me. Why did they pave the driveway with cobblestones? We have winters in New York. I never thought about cobblestone driveways and how they need to be redone every few years in states like this until ours started falling apart.
Did I start falling apart the moment Mason kissed me, or did it happen earlier? Did it happen when I walked into his office? When I decided to take that meeting at Phoenix Enterprises?
It’s a struggle for the garage door to open, but it makes it. That’s the spirit. That’s the attitude I need right now. You might be on the verge of failure. That doesn’t mean you can shut down. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Picking up the folio from its place on my passenger seat feels risky, like it might burn me. But the papers haven’t done anything. It’s Mason himself who’s setting my skin on fire.
My cheap, Target shoes fold under the weight of me, and my face burns again. Mason was right. He was right about my shoes. And he was right that I need him. I yank them off one by one as soon as I’m in the back door and let them tumble to the floor.
And then…
Go back for them.
They’re my only pair of heels. I need to keep them nice.
I can already picture, in vivid detail, his expression when he notices my half-off shoes in his apartment. The hot delight in his eyes at how little I have. At how little I am.
No. Not little. I’m worth something. I’m worth enough that he wanted me. Unless he just gets off on getting as much power over people as possible, in which case—
I can’t think like that.
The approach to my father’s office gives me just enough time to get control of my breathing. Sticky air from outside has followed me in, settled into the hallway. Our central air hasn’t been turned on yet this summer. How are we supposed to afford it?
All we can afford is enough to keep my dad comfortable with a portable unit in his office.
The office door stands open, but I knock on it anyway as I round the corner into the only cool air in the house. My clothes stick to my skin. “Hey, Daddy.”
He looks up at me from his desk. A wide ledger covers the surface in front of him. I don’t ask what he’s doing with it, or who it belongs to. I know better than to ask. Anything written down like that is old—old enough to be private. “Hi, honey. How was the office?”
“I didn’t go to the office today.” I take the seat across from him. I’ve never been more desperate to change out of my clothes, but I’m also desperate for this conversation to be over. “I had a meeting in the city with a potential investor.”
My father’s eyes track the folio as I place it equally between us. He raises narrowed eyes to me with a set jaw. “Investors, Charlotte? For a business venture of yours?”
“No. For Van Kempt Industries.”
He lets out a bark of a laugh. “The company isn’t looking for investors.”
“We need an investor, Daddy. It’s the only option we have left. I’ve had meeting after meeting with the team, and we all came to the same conclusion.” Steely rain lashes the window behind him. My dad bristles in the yellow light of his desk light, but I have no choice. I have to keep going. He might not remember that he’s had to fire almost everyone at Van Kempt Industries. He might be denying it to himself. But the team—there’s practically no one left. It’s me and a handful of people who have been trying to keep the Cornerstone development from imploding. “The only way to go forward with construction is to form a partnership with an outside investor.”
He reaches out a white-sleeved wrist to pick up the tumbler on his desk. Only a single drink waits for him in the glass, and he downs it in one. I know that’s not all he’s had. I know he’s been drinking all day. Wearing his nice office clothes can’t disguise the tremors he’s beginning to have. The liquid in the glass doesn’t lie. My dad brings it back down to the desk with too much care. It scares me, how careful he is. How hard he’s trying to disguise the amount he’s had.
It’s worse when he’s not trying.
“I never have partnerships.”
“But…you did. You’ve had lots of them.”
“I don’t have them anymore.” He’s put the glass down but he hasn’t released it from his grip. “They’re dangerous. They’re shitty. They always end with someone getting hurt.”
Partnerships are dangerous. More than I ever realized. Mason hasn’t just demanded my time. He’s also demanded my body, all but guaranteeing that I’ll get hurt.
My stomach turns over. Am I really considering this? Selling myself to him to save my family?
Oh, god. I am considering it. I’ve already taken it for granted, but it’s only now that I’m home that reality is setting in. Mason will touch me. He’ll do more than that. He’ll use me in every possible way, ways I haven’t even considered yet.
Is it worth giving up my dignity to save my family?
An expression flickers over my father’s face in a blink. Shorter than the flash of lightning outside. But I see it—I know I see it. His lips draw back from his teeth. They’re out. Bared. Not a smile, but it makes me think of satisfaction. And then he’s scowling again. The leather folio on the desk feels almost alive. He glances down at it like it might bite.
“Daddy.” Folding both hands over my purse presses wet fabric into my lap. “I’ve found an investor for us. This contract guarantees the construction of the Cornerstone development. It guarantees a minimum sale price for the property after it’s finished. The money will be enough to pay off the company debts and all of our family debts and start fresh. All it needs is your signature.”
“Charlotte.”
His tone is mildly scolding, and the urge wells up to admit that I’m in over my head. It was always this way growing up. I felt so guilty every time I stepped out of line. The smallest mistakes felt like enormous failures. “I think you should take a look at the contract.”
My dad snatches the folio up into his hands and I bite back another wave of that old habit. It would feel good not to lie to him, but that feeling wouldn’t last. I would have to shoulder the guilt of watching my parents’ house get put up for auction after the mortgage payments stopped. Watch the town car get repossessed by whichever creditor got to it first. Our humiliation in front of New York society would be complete. Right now, at least, we can hide from it behind the doors of the mansion. My mother can pretend to her friends that she’s not up for parties. My dad can pretend he’s exploring new business ventures. Right now, everything has a chance to work out.
He thumbs through the pages. Too rough on them, but Mason Hill used thick, heavy paper for this. If he wanted the contract to feel like the only real thing in a cardboard house, he did it. The sound of the rain almost drowns out the subtle swishes of the paper. I need to check the bucket in the upstairs guest suite. It’s sitting under a leak that gets bigger with every storm. I hope it hasn’t overflowed.
A sigh, and then a slow, deliberate turning of the pages. All the way back to the beginning. Another bolt of fear—did Mason lie to me? Did he put the terms of our deal on the first page, where my dad would definitely see them? The hair on the back of my neck pulls up. Oh, god. If he did that, if all this was a cruel game, then it will be worse than rock bottom.
I take a slow breath. He didn’t do that. Mason Hill might be an asshole. He might be the meanest person I’ve ever met. But somewhere, even if it’s buried deep, there’s good in him. There’s good in everyone.
There has to be some good in everyone.
“Phoenix Enterprises.” The name sounds unfamiliar in my father’s mouth. Not the way he’s said Van Kempt Industries all my life. There’s no pride in the way he says Phoenix Enterprises. Only resignation with a hint of suspicion. “This is Hill’s company.”
My shoulders sag. Thank God. I’d been going through scenarios, trying to figure out how to describe it while giving him the minimum amount of information, but he already knows. No hiding it now. “Yes.”
A muscle in his cheek twitches. There’s no telling how much he’s had to drink, and I don’t know if it’ll make his pride duller or sharper.
“Find another investor.” He moves to close the folio. I lurch forward in my seat, my purse falling wetly to the rug, and block his hand. My heart thuds. If it weren’t for the storm, he’d be able to hear it.
I tried to find another investor. I couldn’t. Mason is doing everything in his power to stop me from finding a deal with anyone else, and he has significantly more power than I do.
“There are no other investors.” I’ll break down if I have to. My dad never liked tears. He never liked what he called theatrics. But that’s because they work. The problem I was having would be solved in a matter of hours. “I’ve looked. There’s no one else. You don’t have to deal with Phoenix, Daddy. I’ll do all of that. All I need is one signature.”
His lip curls and my stomach sinks. He’s not going to sign it.
“Cyrus?”
My mother’s voice filters down from the second floor. He stands at the sound of his name in the tired voice, shaking my wrist off as he does it. I stand, too, but not to go to her—to grab for the folio and a pen from the holder on his desk. The electricity flickers as I step into my father’s path. Irritation darkens his face. “Excuse me.”
“Sign it.”
I feel as desperate and small as I did in Mason’s office, but I won’t let it show. That’s not how you get things done. Without breaking eye contact, I flip open the contract to the correct page, marked with a red tab.
My dad snatches the pen out of my hand. His cheeks are as red as the tab on the page, and I don’t move. I hardly breathe. I just stand still, blank-faced, as expressionless as possible while he takes off the cap. He’s been in business a long time, and he doesn’t sign things without reading them. But right now, today, he’s drunk. My mom’s waiting. His eyes move over the page. Cursory. Unseeing.
The tip of the pen hovers over the line.
It trembles.
My dad seems to notice it at the same time I do. He curses under his breath, scrawling his name in big loops on the line. Then he tosses the pen down onto the paper. It leaves several droplets of ink. They remind me of blood. He brushes past me on his way out of the room. “I’ll expect a copy on my desk by the end of the week,” he says as he disappears into the hall.
Outside, lightning flashes over the trees at the edge of the yard. They bend and twist in the wind, looking for all the world like they’re screaming.
