Lured into Lies by Melanie Martins

Chapter 10

Manhattan, November 13, 2020

Petra Van Gatt

“I only see death and misery,” Louise’s voice whispers to me. “This relationship… It won’t end well.” Her premonition keeps playing in my head, never leaving me, so I switch positions in bed and try to shut them down. Despite my many attempts, though, I recall that evening like it was yesterday. From the moment Louise left the living room abruptly, to the moment she said those six words, “I only see death and misery.” I shake my head against the pillow, chasing those memories away. But it’s only getting worse—now I see Mom sitting in front of me as we are having dinner on Christmas Eve, her eyes down. She looks up at me and says, “This relationship is going to destroy you, my dear…”

“Mom!” I shout, before waking up in a jump. My heart is racing, so I focus on breathing slowly in and out to calm myself down. I’m so tired of sleepless nights filled with negative thoughts. Nothing will happen, I tell myself. This is just my fears haunting me and playing games. Looking beside me, I notice the bed is empty. What time is it? It can’t be that late. I immediately reach for my iPhone and suck in a breath when I realize it’s ten past nine in the morning. How come it’s already so late, though? Maria said she’d wake me up at eight.

Pulling the sheets down, I leave the comfy bed, put a robe on, and as soon as I open the door, I come face to face with Maria herself.

“Oh! Good morning,” she says, a bit surprised I’m already awake. “Mr. Van Dieren is requesting your presence on the terrace.” Her tone is hurried, and after checking me out, she adds, “Kindly get dressed. He’s not alone.” I think twice about questioning her further, but Maria walks past me and starts making the bed, so I just leave her at her task and rush to the bathroom in order to get ready.

As I reach the outdoor terrace, there’s no wind blowing, and I notice Alex has installed glass walls to keep the terrace at a warmer temperature. My eyes land on the table, which is completely full of food, drinks, laptops, and the looming presence of the meeting in general. “What’s going on?” I ask Maria, my tone just above a whisper. As I look more attentively, it seems like I recognize most of the persons present in there: Ryan, Alex’s attorney; Joshua, one of the non-execs on the board; Mike, the COO; and Celia, head of Investor Relations. “What is everyone doing here?” I thought I was discreet enough, but alas, everyone turns their heads in my direction, remaining speechless.

Without saying a word, Mike stands up and walks toward me with an iPad in his hands. As he gives it to me, my eyes drift down to the screen, and all I can see are the two headshots of Amanda and Alex next to each other of and then the most horrifying picture of her scars in between. Amanda’s revenge… Not even a week has passed since we won the case, and yet here we are having to go through another one. My heart starts racing, but I find some strength to read the headline and the article itself, which I regret just as fast. Having seen enough, I return the iPad to Mike as we make our way to the table. Then he gestures for me to sit where he was sitting before, which is beside my fiancé. As I sit, I remain staring at Alex, not knowing what to say or do. His expression doesn’t give anything away, and I can’t tell if he’s about to explode, kill someone, or both.

Fortunately, his gaze meets mine, and his stern face switches to a more relaxed one. He presses his lips on my forehead to say good morning, but all I can feel is the anxiety and rage consuming him.

Heaving a sigh laced with frustration, I look at Ryan, who’s sitting in front of me, and ask, “Do we have a date for the hearing?”

“Eric doesn’t waste time.” Ryan hands me two envelopes: one from the office of the Attorney General and another from the court.

As I read the first one, I can’t help but feel my blood pressure rising. What a fucking asshole! It’s a notification that the Attorney General pressed charges against Alex based on the police report that Amanda filed, and they are requesting a pre-arraignment conference. I’m not an expert in criminal law, but I’ve got the feeling this meeting is gonna be utter bullshit. Yet, how come Eric knows about Amanda? How do they even know each other? This feels very sketchy…

“There was no arrest?” I ask, surprised.

“Fortunately not,” Ryan answers. “There’s a reason why I always recommend my clients to do donations to the police department.” He gives a quick glance at my fiancé before adding, “There’s nothing more important than gaining their trust and having them on our side.”

Then I open the court letter, which is a request for Alex to present himself before a judge for yet another case. An exasperated breath escapes me, as we’ll have to go through this all over again.

“Does he have to go?” I ask Ryan.

“I already requested to waive the arraignment. I will plead not guilty on his behalf,” he explains, although I was talking about the meeting with Eric and Amanda. “I already filled a motion to dismiss the case, but given the fact his charges include sexual assault, it might be hard to have it dismissed without a prelim.” The words “sexual assault” make my heart freeze on the spot. I just can’t believe this nightmare. Turning to my fiancé, I lower my tone and say, “Did my dad call you yet?”

“Your dad?” He chuckles at my question, shaking his head in total disbelief. “He might even be behind all of this and cheering with Eric and Amanda in his office. Who knows?”

“He didn’t even try to inform you?” For some stupid reason, I had thought after my letter and his testimony that Dad would’ve turned the page and be on our side. But, alas, maybe I got it wrong. I rub my temples, preparing myself to deal with yet another legal case.

“Alex is right,” Joshua takes over. “Now that everyone knows Roy was just being coerced by his ex-wife, this is the perfect case to push Alex out of the company while Roy can keep a perfect image.”

But why would Dad still want to remove Alex if he’s no longer being coerced? Unless Mom is still pushing the strings… I’ve got a zillion questions about this case, but for now, I need to have a face-to-face with my dad. And Alex needs protection on the board, if Mike or Joshua decide to side with my dad and vote him out, I have to be able to do something.

Wearily getting up from my seat, I excuse myself and go to the bedroom. There, I close and lock the door behind me before I take my iPhone and start calling my Dad. With the phone against my ear, my heart seems to beat faster with every beep passing.

C’mon, pick up the damn phone…

“Petra? Is it you?” Given the fact I’ve never called him in the past few months, I understand his astonishment.

“Hi, Dad,” I say, my voice not too loud so as not to be heard outside. “Um, are you at the office right now?”

“Is everything alright?” he asks, seeming worried.

“I need to talk to you. It’s very urgent,” I tell him.

“Okay, well, then swing by.” There is a small pause before he adds, “I’ve got a meeting at ten-thirty though.” Oh gosh, it’s nearly ten! Who knows how long I need to get there!

“Deal, I’m on my way now.” And I hang up.

* * *

A strange nostalgia shivers me as I enter into the building where I used to work as an intern. Even weirder is how much things have changed since then. Obviously, when I used to cross these revolving doors back in September last year, I never thought I’d get engaged so soon. Nor did I think Dad would become my enemy… or that Alex would be accused of… well, anyway, I try to brush those thoughts away as I greet the receptionist. “Good morning,” I say politely. “I’ve got an appointment with Roy Van Gatt.”

“And you are?” he asks with a sleepy look on his face.

“His daughter.”

From someone who seemed to be pretty asleep, the receptionist straightens his posture immediately, and after clearing his throat, he asks, “May I have an ID please?”

The fact that he doesn’t believe me is understandable since I had given him a fake ID last year, so I just mumble a mere, “Sure,” and I hand him my real one.

He squints his eyes, reading it attentively. “Okay, um, one moment please.” Then he reaches for the desk phone and calls someone. “Good morning, I have here a woman named Petra Van Gatt,” he says, my card still in his hands. “Okay, perfect. Thanks.” Finally, he hangs up, gives me the ID back, and gestures me to follow him. “This way, please.” After reaching the lifts, he presses the button to call them, and as one of them becomes available, he extends a hand, inviting me to step inside. We both try to press the button to floor fifty-seven at the same time, which makes me laugh, as last time he just told me which floor and that was it.

As I get into Gatt-Dieren’s entrance, everything seems to be exactly the same—same interior design, same aromas, and the same perfectly groomed secretary welcoming me and leading me to my dad’s office. We take the stairs to the management floor, and after crossing Alex’s office, we stop in front of another door where she knocks three times before hearing an approval to come in.

As I walk in, I see Dad sitting at his desk chair, his reading glasses on. I put on a polite tone and greet him. “Hi, Dad.”

“Ah, Petra…” Dad stands up from his seat, leaving his glasses on the desk. “What a great surprise seeing you here.” With a smile hanging on his lips, he walks in my direction, most likely to give me a hug or something. As he stands in front of me and opens his arms, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Embrace him? Tell him no? Since I need his help more than ever, I simply do the same and accept the gesture despite how much I hate to do this.

After our hug, awkwardness fills the space between us as I try to find my next words. My gaze drifts to the glass wall behind him, and since I’ve never been here before, I simply say, “Nice view.” Dad just keeps smiling in return, before waiting for me to get to the point. “Where’s Mom?” I ask, slowly pacing around his office to get some distance from him.

“She had a meeting with Ryan yesterday and agreed to return to the Netherlands and stop blackmailing me.”

A wave of happiness surges through me at his statement, and I blink twice to make sure I’m well awake. “Oh, so she is really leaving?”

“Yes.” He gives a quick glance at his watch, before adding, “In fact, she should be on a plane as we speak.”

“Wow,” I utter, my jaw still gaping at the news. “Well, that’s really amazing,” I tell him. “Um, have you heard about the new charges Eric pressed against Alex?

“Yes, I know,” Dad mutters, annoyance settling on his face.

But I continue nevertheless. “And have you spoken to Alex about it?”

The question seems to bother him as he walks back to his desk chair. “No, and I don’t intend to.”

From joy to frustration, my stomach drops, and I look at him, totally baffled by his coldness. “Why not?” Since he doesn’t say anything further, I add, “You guys used to be best friends…”

“Petra, with everything that's happened—”

“He’s still so loyal to you,” I say, cutting him off. “Trust me, despite everything you’ve done to him, he still cares a lot about you.”

Dad puts his glasses back on, takes a few sheets in front of him, and focuses on them, totally unimpressed by what I just said. “I’ll have a thought about it,” he answers, brushing off the subject entirely.

“Um, he’s really down,” I press on, despite Dad being glued to his papers. “Eric pressed charges for sexual assault against him; it’s about Amanda…”

“I know; it’s all over the news.”

“Eric is your friend,” I point out, my tone polite but slightly insistent. “Maybe if you call him…”

“I can’t interfere,” he snaps back, his eyes on me. “This is really none of my business. This is between the Attorney General and Alex.”

“You really have no heart, do you?” Dad lets out a breath in annoyance, but I proceed, “Your best friend is having his reputation totally smashed down, and you’re sitting here like you couldn’t care less.”

“I told you, there is nothing I can do.” His nonchalant and unhelpful tone is making my blood boil.

“Why not?” I fire back, pushing him to his wits’ end.

“Because!”

And as we glare at each other, the truth hits me. And I chuckle at my own stupidity and naïvety because it was obvious since the beginning. “You knew Eric would press charges against him, didn’t you?” Despite Dad not saying a word, I can read the answer in his eyes. “Oh my…” And as I start ruminating about all his moves, I ask, “This is why Mom accepted to leave, isn’t it? She knew there will always be a plan B.”

“It was the only way,” Dad blurts out. “Your mom was always behind my back, and my reputation was getting a blow. Now that she’s gone, investors know I was the victim of blackmailing.”

I’m so furious at him that tears start brimming on my eyelids. “So this was your plan since the beginning, huh? Throwing Alex under the fucking bus to save your pathetic image?”

“Petra…”

But I remain staring furiously at him and ask again, “Was it your idea?”

“I have work to do.” I roll my eyes immediately in response.

Too bad, I will repeat the question as many times as needed. “Was it you who asked Amanda to report my fiancé to the police?”

Dad draws out a breath, his attention returning to his papers. “There’s always a trade-off in life.”

“You are the worst!” I’m so angry at him that I’m torn between punching him or taking those papers away from him, but instead, I begin to rant. “You could've pressed charges against Mom for coercion. Ryan told you so! But instead you’re nothing but a fucking coward who decided to keep being loyal to her!”

“Enough!” Dad snaps, slamming his hand down on the desk. An unpleasant silence ensues as we both try to calm down. After a few more moments, he says, “Alex will go through this just fine.” I look at him, shaking my head. I’m angry. I’m furious. But above all, I’m hurt. He stands up and walks back toward me. “He’s got the best lawyer in town; you have nothing to worry about. The judge will dismiss the case just as fast as the first one.”

A long sigh escapes me as I shake my head at his failed attempt to reassure me. Standing in front of me, his hands go to hold my shoulders, and he stares right through me. “If I could help, I would.”

Eye on eye, I refute his comment, “You can help. You just choose not to. You’ve made that obvious.”

“Calling Eric is not an option.”

If Eric is not an option, then I’m sure putting me on the board is one.

“So, if it has nothing to do with Eric or the case, you can help me?”

Dad seems hesitant. “Most likely.”

I don’t believe Dad will concede easily, but I give it a try anyway. “Then I want a seat at the table.”

“Uh…” He squints his eyes in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It means I want to be a non-exec and have a vote.”

“We have an agreement,” he reminds me. “You have to finish Columbia first.”

“I’m not asking you to give me everything; just fifteen percent.”

Dad chuckles, shaking his head in disapproval. “You’re totally delusional, my dear.”

“After everything I went though because of you, it’s the least you should do,” I argue. “Or should I blackmail you like Mom does?”

“I’m sorry, but we have an agreement.” His cold, stern answer makes my heart sink. Dad reaches for his desk, and after opening a drawer, he searches for something in there, until he finally takes a document out, showing it to me. “There are a few requirements before you can inherit what I own. Do you want me to read those out for you?”

I don’t think I’ve hated him as much as I do now, and he deserves to know it. “I hate you,” I mutter, crossing my arms.

“Petra,” he snaps. As if barking my name would change what I feel for him.

Pointing my finger at him, I say, “Don’t you dare come to my wedding!” My eyes instinctively go to the contract in his hand. Jeez! I regret so much to have accepted his request to see him once a week while living in the state of New York. Why did I agree to that? Why? Fortunately, I should be able to legally change my residence to the Netherlands, so I won’t have to see him ever again. Unless he travels there, which might not even happen since he rarely does so. Dad remains mute, his face devoid of any expression, so I ask, “Are you so self-absorbed that you can’t even understand you won’t attend the wedding of your only child?” I pause, gauging his reaction, and despite my heart reeling, I try to be just as stoic as him. “Doesn’t it matter to you?”

He closes his eyes to rub his eyelids for a moment, before exhaling loudly. “Is Alex gonna give you fifteen percent too?” His question brings a spark of hope. If it’s just because he doesn’t want to have less ownership than Alex, then this is easily fixable.

“Um, yes, if you give me fifteen percent, he will too.” I haven’t asked Alex yet, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t.

Dad exhales slowly as he thinks something through. “Is there any other option?”

“No,” I answer. “If I don’t have a seat at the board, you don’t have a seat at my wedding. Simple as that.”