Chapter 51

"Thanks for meeting with us, Millie," Lana says before wrapping me in a hug, her rose perfume wafting in the air. "I know it was last minute."

This morning, Lana texted me out of the blue, asking if I could meet with her and a few others at The Menagerie within The Orchid in the afternoon to discuss strategy. We've met a few times after Grace and Taylor found out their connections to the Anderson family.

As of this morning, the Ethics Committee still hasn't ruled on the case yet and I have no idea if my conversation with Dean Emery did any good, so it makes sense the Anderson family wants to play offense in this situation.

I squeeze her back as she ushers me through the intimate lounge decorated like a scene from the rainforest, with lush greenery and delicately painted gold vines on wallpaper, luxurious velvet sunken seating, pendant lighting that can double as artwork.

Pausing before I step through the open door of a private room, I say, "Lana, I want to apologize to you and your family for causing so much heartache for you all. I know a relationship takes two people, and this is not all on me, but the fallout has impacted everyone."

"Nonsense," a deep voice murmurs from inside the room.

Maxwell stands at my arrival with the same impeccable Anderson manners I've seen his brother display before. His bearing is tall, his hands behind his back, looking very much like the mysterious frigid king the press calls him, because he guards his privacy like Fort Knox protects its gold, and he never lets photos of him be published. Another tall, dark-haired man with a scar on his face stands next to him.

"My brother is damn lucky to have you. Judging from your actions and how you're handling everything, he's a fool to let you go."

He flashes me a wry smile and in a split second, he looks like Ryland with the same sardonic tilt of the lip as if he can't believe he's experiencing a positive emotion.

"Thank you."

"Please come in. This man," he motions to the person next to him, "is Elias Kent. He handles the personnel for the Rose floors, among…other things."

My mouth drops open and I quickly shut it. I may be a sheltered college student, but everyone knows of Elias Kent, the alleged crime boss who rules the underground.

Elias grins, no doubt an effort to make himself appear less threatening, as if anything can shake off the lethality in his green eyes and the alertness in his frame. It's pretty much like staring at a lion attempting to smile at you.

Lana and I take our seats as Maxwell presses a button on the round table. A minute later, an attendant appears, bringing us a cart filled with various refreshments, from hot coffee to juices, bottled water, and trays of fruits and nuts.

Maxwell quirks a brow at me.

"W-Water is fine."

Wordlessly, he uncaps a bottle before handing it to me. Then he pours coffee from a carafe into a cup.

"Black, like your soul." He smirks, handing the cup to Lana, who rolls her eyes.

After everyone is settled, he begins, "We want to form a strategy to deal with the press and save Ryland from himself. Elias is here because he has information for us and insists on butting his nosy self into our business."

"You'll thank me later," Elias murmurs while stirring the coffee in his cup.

"On the IPO front, we have a statement prepared to be released on Monday. Dad will come out of retirement to face the press. He is a much-loved member of the Anderson family and is a powerful leader, so his presence will soothe the waters," Lana says.

She tucks a curl of dark hair behind her ear and continues, "Not to mention, we've just received a clean audit opinion we can share with the public as well. With our statement and Dad's support, the IPO should proceed without issue. Then, in a week or so, after the dust settles, we'll get Ryland in front of the cameras again."

"I'll be working in the background with the investors and assuaging any concerns they may have," Maxwell adds. "What we need from you, if you agree, is to issue a statement of your own to the press as well, because they are waiting for you. And if you're open to it, we can prepare that today with Lana's help."

I nod. This makes sense. I've been dodging the press left and right since the scandal broke a few weeks ago and I know I'll eventually need to say something to get them to drop the subject.

Elias is quiet until this point. He clears his throat and leans forward. "I'm here today because I may have done something without your permission, but I can't stand by and let that idiot lose everything because of some bullshit. I owe him and you, Maxwell, one."

Maxwell lifts one brow. "What did you do, Elias?"

Elias turns to me and asks, "Millie, I've seen your transcripts. Straight-A student, very impressive."

I don't even want to ask him how he got his hands on my records.

His lips curve up into a soft smile. "How do you feel about graduating earlier?"

"Huh?" What on earth?

"I may have paid a visit to Jacob Emery. It seems like you have enough credits to graduate in the fall if it weren't for the Education Honors Program."

I nod. Where is he going with this?

"And you're already accepted into the Cornell PhD program, which is the best in the country. I assume you want to go there?"

"Yes, but they can rescind the acceptance if I don't finish the honors program. It's one reason I've worked so hard in the program this year."

He waves me away. "Millie, if I may…the real world is seldom black and white." Tell me about it. Better yet, tell Ryland about it.

His voice deepens, his tone serious, and he says, "Having power and influence are gifts to be wielded sometimes. It may not be fair, but then again, the world isn't fair. Use the influence for what's right and there's no shame in that."

My heart thumps rapidly in my rib cage. I stare at the enigmatic man in front of me and want to shrink away from his perceptive gaze. It's like he knows my ambivalence and avoidance of using my connections when facing the world, and how I've attempted to hide my identity as Adrian's sister to those who know me.

Elias smiles in a self-assured way, a chess master calmly moving the pieces on the board and anticipating his opponent's next move.

"And we know what's the greater good here and what's right. So, finishing the honors program before or after a small little piece of paper is issued…all semantics. The dean has agreed that with your impeccable grades, stellar volunteering and extracurricular activities, exceptions can be made. The exception being…your graduation certificate will be dated December fifteenth of last year."

"What does this have anything to do with anything?"

Elias leans back and takes another leisurely sip of coffee, his posture relaxed as if he's talking about the weather and not my future.

"Well, as of your graduation, you're no longer under the university's regulations. So, let's say you have a good relationship with a family acquaintance, a certain man who was your professor in the past. You graduated with honors and over the holidays, you and this professor became acquainted even more so outside the confines of a classroom. Then things sparked, and you entered a relationship in the spring. Even though you had already graduated, you still audited the honors program in the winter and spring quarters because you are voracious about learning. Interesting timing? Perhaps. Breaking any rules? No."

I blink a few times. Remind myself to take a breath. Blink a few more times.

His words echo in my brain. Is he saying—

"Yes, you can have your cake and eat it too," Elias answers my unasked question. He adds, "You have a bad poker face. Do us all a favor and don't gamble."

"B-But, Cornell? And what about Ryland's tenure?" My mind struggles to catch up with all this new information and strategies that have never even crossed my mind.

"The dean had a chat with Cornell, and your acceptance will remain standing. Just make sure to finish…or…audit the rest of the class in the honors program. Accumulate the knowledge," his startling green eyes glint as he stares at me, "for intellectual curiosity's sake."

"And Ryland's tenure?"

"Well, if you've already graduated, I don't see why his honorary PhD and path to tenure will change. Ryland Anderson is an exceptional member of society and, frankly, a damn good man. Also, an excellent professor, from what I've heard." Elias's voice thickens at the end. "If any of this goes back to him, I'll deny saying that to my dying breath."

He stands up, slips on his suit jacket, and pulls out a gold and silver object from his vest pocket. A lighter?

He flicks in on and off. On and off. The clicking sound is loud in the quiet room.

Then he slides it back into his vest and buttons his jacket.

He stares at Maxwell and murmurs, "Don't worry. You don't owe me any favors. This one is on the house."

Then, without another word, he strides out of the room quietly and efficiently, a phantom disappearing into the shadows once more.

"Fuck, of all the things he was going to say, I didn't expect that," Maxwell mutters.

"And he found the employee who took the photo of you two as well. That's been dealt with," Lana murmurs, her eyes still gazing at the closed door.

She turns back to us. "I swear, we've known that guy for a long time and I still can't ever figure out what he's going to do next."

She heaves out a loud sigh and looks toward the ceiling. "Ryland. He's such a stubborn asshole sometimes. I swear, his biggest enemy is himself. Why can't he see he doesn't have to do everything by himself? There's no challenge too big for us to solve together."

A burst of warmth seeps through my chest and spreads to my limbs. I stare at the siblings before me, all clearly worried about their brother and love him with all their hearts.

You're so damn stupid, Ryland. What were you so afraid of? Asking for help? Disappointing the people who love you?

I murmur, "He's so lucky to have all of you in his corner."

Lana smiles, her gray eyes twinkling under the pendant lighting. "Ryland is lucky to have you, Millie."

My heart twists. But it wasn't enough, and all dreams have to come to an end.

"Thank you for taking care of him and giving him the shelter he needs," Maxwell adds. "Let's hope he gets the stick out of his ass soon."

"And that's all there is to it, Ms. Callahan?" a blonde reporter from CBC news, Maggie O'Farrell, asks as she clasps her hands over the small marble table at a coffee shop near campus.

The cameraman pans his equipment toward me, and I try to ignore him. The room suddenly feels stifling, and I feel my face heating. They have the entire coffee shop reserved and locked down for this exclusive interview Lana secured for me.

I blow out a slow and even breath and smile at Maggie in front of me. The weight of his pendant sits reassuringly under my blouse. I got this. I've rehearsed this with Lana a few times already.

"Yes, that's all there is to it. I graduated from NYUC back in December and Ryland and I are close family friends. He was extremely upset when he saw the other reporters accosting me that day in class, as he has younger sisters of his own, and he is also friends with my brother, Adrian Scott."

I sit up straighter. "Having power and influence are gifts to be wielded sometimes. It may not be fair, but then again, the world isn't fair. Use the influence for what's right and there's no shame in that." Elias's words reverberate in my mind, and I realize I can't live life being afraid of how others may perceive me because of my connections to my brother. The right people will be with me because of me. My brother is an important part of my life and I refuse to hide this any longer.

"That's understandable. From the footage I've seen, it was very rowdy that day in the classroom," Maggie prods.

"It definitely was. I'm a very private person, so I didn't know what to do when the paparazzi converged in front of my face. Needless to say, my brother was furious when he heard about what happened."

Maggie pales a smidgen. No one wants to piss off The Shark. She forces out a chuckle. "Well, can't blame the older brother for being protective. I have one myself."

"So you understand why Ryland stepped in that day."

"But what about the photos?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know anything about them. They were so grainy—I could barely recognize Ryland if the press didn't mention it to me."

Maggie nods. "So, to clarify, are you saying you and Ryland Anderson aren't in a relationship?"

A heaviness settles over me and sinks its talons into my chest. At least this is the truth. I swallow and reply, "No. We're not in a relationship."

The rest of the interview goes as smoothly as Lana predicted. Maggie is thorough in her questions, but never too overbearing. The copious notes Lana provided covered all the interview questions and then some.

That night, as I sit on the bed with a paper and pen at the ready, I write my last letter to Ryland.

Dear Ryland,

I don't blame you for pushing me away. If I were you, perhaps I'd make the same decision. But I'd never lock you out.

The last few weeks have given me a lot of clarity. I realize I'm stronger than I thought I was. Facing the press, the rumors at school, the comments by trolls online, and I haven't broken. They haven't clipped my wings. Don't you see? Isn't this what you were afraid of, Ryland? Trapping me in a prison with you? Having me be a shell of my former self?

Whether you believe me or not, I'm capable of making my own decisions. I'll never let a relationship become all of me and kill me inside. I'll leave you without hesitation if it means I'm going to lose myself. I'll survive and thrive. That's who I am at the core.

You've carried the weight of the world on your shoulders, afraid of sharing your burdens with the people who love you—your family, friends…me.

But if there's anything I've learned in the last few weeks—you don't need to. You have so many people in your corner wanting to help you, to free you from the prison you've trapped yourself in. Sometimes, it's easier to stand in the shadow of guilt and fear, but you don't need to.

All you need to do is leave the shelter of your gilded bars.

Take a leap of faith.

I love you and I don't think there'll be a day when the feeling will ever cease. You're my whirlwind. But I realize I don't only want to stand in the storm and feel the pelting rain and harsh winds with you, I also want to stand in the sunshine, smelling the scent of flowers blooming in the spring with you by my side.

And if you can't do that, then I'll be on the sidelines cheering for you on your journey. But I'll continue to chase my dreams, climb the summit, and fight for my future, because I deserve that.

And I think you do too.

Spread your wings and fly, Ryland. Go chase your freedom. May my love be with you always.

Love, Millie

My fingers tremble as I set down the pen and climb out of bed. I walk to my desk and open my drawer to retrieve the packets of letters I've accumulated in the last two years—words sincerely written to my mom and him. I place this letter on top of the stack, take out a large envelope, and carefully place the stack inside.

Flicking on my phone on my desk, I swipe at the screen until I reach Grace's name, and I press call.

"Millie? How are you?" her sweet voice comes across the line seconds later.

My fingers graze the envelope, my heart pounding in a nervous rhythm because it knows pieces of it are stowed carefully inside this unassuming package.

"I'm fine, Grace. But can you do me a favor?"