Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

SIMON

I paused in the foyer of my family home. The crystal chandelier glistened overhead as the setting sun cast fractured rainbows on the walls. I had stepped out for about twenty minutes to take a business call, but it seemed that was all the time my family needed to start shit-talking me.

What else is new?

I shook my head and quietly made my way down the hall decked out with expensive art, showcasing just how much wealth my family had. The mansion was all white and black with the occasional "pop" of gray, as my mother called it. I told her there was no such thing, but she had always liked her cool-tone palette. The marble floors were polished to a high sheen thanks to the small army my mother employed to keep the house looking like a museum where no one lived.

Today was one of her usual dinners with the extended family all invited. I only came because she insisted. I knew I wasn't wanted here. My cousins and aunts and uncles would prefer I stayed away. They had all but disowned me. Except they couldn't totally disown me because they were still hoping to get some of my wealth. And they wanted to stay in good with my mom, who had her own fortune.

Vultures .

Moving closer to the sitting room, I strained to hear better but didn't reveal myself. Yes, I was eavesdropping, but if they were going to talk shit, they deserved it. I leaned against the wall, staying out of view.

"I had to pick up a second job just to cover our bills," Carmen, Matthew's wife, was saying, her voice tight with frustration. "It's so hard leaving the kids with a babysitter who takes half of what I'm making anyway. I feel like I'm chasing my tail in circles. If Simon wasn't such a selfish ass obsessed with the bottom line, I could be home full-time with my babies while Matt went to his job and paid the bills. Like how it used to be. How it's supposed to be."

Matthew was my cousin. A year ago, people would have called us a close-knit family. That wasn't the case now. They hated me, envied me, and were stupid jealous of me.

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, especially from the women. But then, I heard my mother's voice, shaky but resolute. "Keep your voices down," she admonished. "My son is misunderstood. I'd like to see any one of you try to manage the business in his shoes."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, agreeing to disagree. I squared my shoulders and strode into the sitting room, making my presence known. Everyone suddenly found their drinks or the floor incredibly interesting. It always pissed me off that they were willing to talk behind my back but never say any of this to my face. Cowards.

"Here, Matt," I said, pulling my checkbook out of my jacket pocket. His shoulders tensed as he realized I had overheard them. "For your wife. How much do you need? A hundred thousand? Three? Five? Name your price, and it's yours." My voice dripped with faux politeness, my smile sharp and mocking. "I would hate to be responsible for your kids being in daycare like all the other kids in the world. I mean, come on, you're a Locke, money should just fall into your lap. It's wholly unfair you should have to work for it. You have me, and I work hard enough for the rest of you, right? Why should you have to lift a finger or stay off your fucking phone or show up to work on time? You were born into a wealthy family, and everyone owes you. Yes, I don't mind busting my ass to make sure your poor wife doesn't have to work. I mean, it's not like you can't get a job and make a living. So, what will it be? A million? How much is enough for you?"

The tip of my pen hovered above the blank check. The room was deadly silent. No one said a word.

Matthew's face flushed with anger. "I'll be in the car," he muttered.

He stormed out of the room. Carmen was quick to follow. She shot me a dirty look before she left. She went to the media room where their kids had been watching cartoons with their cousins.

I turned my gaze to the rest of my relatives, waving my checkbook at them. "Anyone else? All you have to do is step up and ask, and I'll provide. Again, my time and effort should be spread around. If one person is working hard, there's no point in everyone working hard. That would be ridiculous."

The discomfort in the room was palpable, but no one took the bait. One by one, they began to leave, their expressions a mix of shame and frustration. I had cleared out the entire dinner party, leaving just my mother behind.

She looked tired as she turned to me.

"What?" I asked, my cocky smile faltering under her weary gaze.

She shook her head slowly. "Sometimes you make it hard to defend you, Simon." Without another word, she turned and left, heading for her room down the hall.

"They started it," I muttered to no one. I stood there alone, surrounded by half-eaten appetizer platters.

I had managed to ruin my mother's annual fall open house for our family, an event she'd been hosting since I was a boy. The realization left a sour taste in my mouth. I didn't want to hurt her. I knew she was my only defender. It was self-sabotage.

And yet, if I could rewind time to moments ago when I stood eavesdropping in the hall, I knew I'd do it the same way all over again. The greedy bloodsuckers didn't deserve all the effort my mother went to for them anyway.

I wandered through the empty rooms and couldn't shake the heaviness settling over me. This house, usually filled with laughter and warmth during these gatherings, now felt cold and hollow. The echoes of my family's conversations and their disappointed glances seemed to linger in the air like fine dust particles—not that there was a single particle to be found in this sterile house.

I found myself in the study, where my father's old leather chair sat by the fireplace. I sank into it, staring at the cold hearth. Normally, there would be a fire burning and the scent of my father's cigar smoke. My mother didn't spend much time in here these days. The housekeepers kept it clean and dusted, but everything was just the same as it had been the day my father died. It was like a shrine, which was a little macabre, but I was glad my mom left it alone. Sometimes, I swore I could feel his presence.

"Am I wrong, Dad?" I asked aloud.

Silence was the only response, but I could almost hear my father's deep voice echoing in the room. The weight of my actions pressed heavily on my chest as I sat there, alone with my thoughts. I had always prided myself on being different from the rest of my family, on working hard for my success, but tonight I had let my anger and frustration get the best of me. I was so sick of being the villain because I demanded the best from anyone that worked for me. I didn't care if they were family or not. Leeches weren't welcome, even if they shared my last name.

I closed my eyes and tried to push away the image of my mother's disappointed expression. She had always been there for me, defending me even when no one else would. And yet, here I was, driving a wedge between us with my reckless behavior and my unwillingness to overlook my loser cousin's bullshit ways.

I remembered being a kid, running through these halls with Matthew, our laughter bouncing off the walls. Back then, the world had seemed so much simpler. My father had been a pillar of strength, the man we both admired and feared. When he passed away, I had felt the weight of the family business fall squarely on my shoulders.

I had to step up, to fill the void he left behind. But somewhere along the way, I had lost myself in the process. I wanted to make him proud. I had to work ten times as hard as everyone else to prove I was ready to be the CEO of a massive oil company. No one believed a wild twenty-one-year-old had been ready for the job.

The business had consumed me, turning me into someone I barely recognized. My ruthless pursuit of success had alienated the people I cared about the most. I sacrificed the last ten years, years I should have spent partying and dating. Now that I achieved such success, I found myself trying to get those years back. I partied hard and lived like it was my last day on earth. That bothered some of the people in my life.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. I looked up to see my mother standing in the doorway, her face lined with worry and fatigue. She had changed into her pajamas, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. She looked smaller, more fragile than before in her tailored slacks, ironed blouse, and copious amounts of jewelry.

"I thought I might find you in here." She smiled softly.

"Thought maybe I could talk to him," I said.

"How about you talk to me?" she asked softly.

I nodded, motioning for her to sit. She took the seat opposite me, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of sadness and determination.

"Simon," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I know you think you're doing the right thing but you're pushing everyone away. You're becoming someone your father would not have recognized."

I felt a pang of guilt but remained silent, letting her continue.

"Your father was a hard man, but he had a heart. He cared about this family, about the people who worked for him. You need to find that balance, Simon. You need to remember why you're doing this in the first place."

"I'm trying to keep everything together," I said, my voice rough with emotion. "I'm trying to make sure we don't lose everything he built."

"But at what cost?" she asked, her eyes piercing into mine. "Money isn't everything. Family is. You need to find a way to reconcile those two parts of your life."

I looked away, unable to meet her gaze. I looked around the study, which was a reflection of the rest of the massive house. It was a ten-bedroom home on a large estate property. There had been many parties over the years, but it had lost some of its allure after my father passed away. My mother was still going through the motions trying to hold everyone together, and here I was, pulling it all apart. Ruining things.

"Mom, you know I fired Matthew for good reason," I said. "Do you really think it was fair he got to sit on his ass and do nothing while everyone else in the company had to bust their asses to earn their paycheck? It was affecting morale and productivity. People figured if he didn't have to work to get paid, neither did they."

"I didn't say it was fair, but I think you might have been able to be a little more diplomatic," she said with a sigh.

"I thought I was plenty diplomatic," I said, shrugging. "He was warned. He was given more chances than anyone else. Why do you think he doesn't have a decent job now? Because he's lazy. He's entitled. He has no reason to feel like he should get a hefty paycheck. It isn't his company. It was Dad's. It's mine. I made it into what it is today. He was dead weight, dragging us down."

"I know you want what's best for the company, Simon," she said softly. "But sometimes the way we go about things can cause more harm than good. Your father taught you to be strong, but he also taught you to be kind."

"I'm plenty kind, but I'm not a doormat. I'm not going to let anyone walk all over me or the other people that work for me. There was someone else that was more deserving of that position."

She sighed again. "I know. Matthew has never been one to go above and beyond. He prefers to do the bare minimum."

"He wasn't even doing that," I retorted.

"I just hate to see our family torn apart over something like this," she said.

I gritted my teeth. Fuck that. I didn't ruin it. My greedy relatives did. They all wanted to suck off me. I wasn't having it.

"I understand, but I'll shutter the whole company before bringing him back," I said and got to my feet. "I have to go. I'm sorry I ruined your party. Next time, I won't come. Everyone can trash me behind my back without my interference."

"Simon, don't say that."

"I want you to be happy and I know how important it is to you," I said. "Clearly, I'm the problem. Goodnight, Mom."

The world and my family could paint me as the villain if they wanted.

I had an empire to run.