<h4>Chapter 224: Chapter 224</h4>


    <strong>ASHER</strong>


    When I step into my office bright and early, the morning light nts across the steel edges of my desk, glinting off the ss namete that has barely been moved since the day I assumed this office. However, that’s not what stops me cold in my track.


    What stops me in my tracks is the sight of a letter folded neatly, sitting on the desk. I don’t remember leaving anything in here yesterday. My pulse slows down as I reach for it. The handwriting on the envelope makes my stomach dip; it’s nted and painfully familiar. It’s <i>Dean’s</i> letter.


    Quickly, I unfold it, scanning through the familiar words while my chest contracts with every line. There’s nothing new in the content. It’s the same letter I lost but then, my fingers brush the back of the page.


    There’s a note there, freshly inked in yet another familiar handwriting.


    <i>"We need to talk — Father".</i>


    I stare at the words a lot longer than I should. My hand closes around the letter as a knock breaks the silence.


    "Mr. Rollins?" My secretary pokes his head in. Yep, I’m done catering to the tantrums of female secretaries "Your father has requested you join him for lunch today by one o’clock at the rooftop restaurant."


    Of course, Brett’s got everything nned. Do I even have a choice in the matter? I nod curtly, sliding the letter into my drawer and locking it. "Tell him I’ll be there."


    When my secretary leaves, I sink into my chair and slide a nce at the skyline framed by the ss wall. Father has always pined for personal lunches with me but this seems different.


    He didn’t just ask for lunch; it feels like he’s summoning me. Judging by the bold disy of Dean’s letter on my desk and the fact that he didn’t bother to deny stealing my letter, lunch is going to be interesting indeed.


    ***


    By the time one o’clockes around, I’ve gone through three reports and a pile of pointless emails without absorbing a single word. The drive to the rooftop restaurant feels mechanical. My reflection in the tinted car window looks like it belongs to someone else.


    I tell myself that I shouldn’t be so anxious for a mere lunch. If anything, Brett should be the one biting his fingers because I’ve got a lot of questions he’s probably not prepared to answer. Yet, I’m the one struggling to keep calm?


    I promised my brothers that discussing our adoption and biological parents would be a joint effort. I can’t afford to let my tempers go off and screw this.


    As livid as I am over father’s tant arrogance on the issue, I have to keep the steam from snaking out of my ears. He’s Brett after all; annoying, prideful and insufferable. I should know better than to expect anything from him.


    The elevator opens directly into the restaurant. If I were a plebeian, the opulence might have hit me in waves. Rather, my keen sense of décor kicks in to critique the ce.


    Everything is white marble and champagne gold, the kind of ce that demands a minimum spend of ten grand just to breathe the air.


    ss walls stretch endlessly, offering a panoramic view of the city. The skyline looks small from up here, like something father could buy and sell twice over.


    Speaking of father, he’s sitting at a corner table, a half-burned cigar resting between two fingers while smoke curls upzily around him. The restaurant is empty, obviously booked out just for our lunch. I inhale sharply at yet another sign of the seriousness of our lunch.


    I approach quietly, pull out a chair and plunk down on it. Behind his sses, father’s eyes crinkle in a satisfied smile. That irks me but I let it go.


    "For a moment, I didn’t think you’de," he says, smiling widely.


    "Why?" I steeple my fingers with a grim look on my face.


    He taps ash into a crystal tray. "Well, you know. I worried you’d assume Josh would be here to disrupt our father-son moment."


    Father-son moment? Did he just say that to appeal to my inner child? I study him, searching for cracks in the fa?ade. He’s wearing one of his tailored navy suits. There isn’t a single hair out of ce. He’s the epitome of a man rehearsed to perfection.


    The waiter glides in with a bottle of Lafite Rothschild and begins to pour into our sses. Tearing my eyes off father’s watchful ones, I nce down at the menu. I’m not hungry. How can I be? However, the sooner we eat, the earlier I can leave before I say something I probably should save for the family meeting with Dean.


    When the food arrives—Wagyu steak, caviar and truffle risotto—Brett gets chatty, segueing from talks of new expansions of the business to board politics. He hammers on and on but fails to mention the letter or Dean. He literally glosses over the elephant in the room and expects me to y along.


    I have to stop myself from consuming too much wine just to rein in my anger. As if he senses the shift in my mood, he starts talking about my session and about grooming me to take over thepany when he retires. I drop my ss roughly on the table and utter the most shocking words he’s heard all afternoon.


    His fork tters softly against porcin as he blinks at me. "Excuse me?"


    I lean back, meeting his eyes. "I said I am not interested in running Rollins Group after you retire."


    He stares at me in shock, the air around us tightening. "Is that your idea of a joke, Asher? If it is, it’s really not funny."


    "Unfortunately, I’m not joking." I remain calm, piercing him with a look that’s too real to be a bluff.


    He exhales a quietugh that doesn’t reach his eyes. "Yes, you are. Taking over RG has been your dream since you were a boy, Asher. Don’t start this rebellion nonsense now."


    "I won’t. That’s why I think it’s only fair that you give it to your <i>biological</i> son," The enunciation is very deliberate. "It’s what you’ve always wanted, right? To pass down your legacy to your own kin."


    The tick of a vein in his temple is utterly satisfying. If he brought me here to y dumb about Dean’s letter or the implication of my biological father showing up out of the blue, I’ll find a way to circle back to the truth.


    My choice of wordsnd like a knife in Brett’s heart judging by the grind of his teeth. I watch him flinch, just barely, before he masks it behind another puff of smoke.


    "Don’t be ridiculous. You think I’d hand over my life’s work to someone who hasn’t proven himself just because he’s my son?"


    "Oh, now you care about hard work and proof?" I ask. "After years of acting like I haven’t earned my ce in RG?"


    He doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks at me as if he’s reassessing something. His calcting eyes grate on my already raw nerves. I should stop now before I regret my next words. So, I drop my napkin on the table.


    "I’m done pretending this lunch is anything more than a performance."


    "What?


    "Why was that letter returned to my office?"


    Father’s hand stills midair. "I see. So <i>that’s</i> what this is about."


    "Why?"


    He sighs and leans back in his chair. "You know how surprised I was when your mother showed me that letter? I don’t know why Dean would choose to reach out to my boys behind my back." He stubs out the cigar. "Actually, maybe I understand why he would, after seeing what men I’ve groomed you to be."


    The arrogance in his tone stings.


    "I think you mean what <i>my brothers and I</i> have turned ourselves into," I correct him.


    He gives a thin smile. "I see he’s already getting to you." He leans forward with a meaningful look in his eyes. Look, my boy. Dean is a cunning man. He’s also a selfish prick that gave away his kids for adoption because he couldn’t handle four sickly babies. Now, he wants to crawl back into your lives because he sees the Rollins name on magazine covers."


    I shake my head. Of course, Brett will always find a way to make everything about himself.


    "Enough."


    "No, it’s not enough" He snaps, suddenly losing the careful polish. "If you think he’s some kind of savior or the doting father you always pined for, you’re sorely mistaken."


    "I said that’s enough." I repeat in a low but dangerous tone. "You’ll have the chance to say all you want on this matter, but not here. I’m calling a family meeting. You, Mother, Dean, and my brothers. We’ll rehash the past and uncover the whole truth there."


    Before I can turn, father pushes back his chair. "What lies has that goon been feeding you that you would warrant a family meeting before believing your own father?" Though his voice doesn’t crack, his demeanor does. It’s almost like he’s afraid of losing his control and grip over me particrly.


    In the past, I’d gobble up whatever words fell from his lips. Must be shocking to watch me <i>doubt</i> him.


    I tug my suit close and exhale. "Thanks for the lunch, father. I’ll see you back at the office. The details of the meeting will bemunicated to all parties involved soon."


    Bowing slightly, I walk away before he can stop me.


    ***


    The entire car ride back to the office, I rey our entire conversation and try to convince myself that I handled that as well as I could. Just as I walk into my floor, heading for my office, my secretary tells me someone’s waiting.


    Someone? I wonder. I’m not expecting anyone at this time. When I step inside my office, I freeze at the sight of her.


    "Nessa?"


    She stands near my desk, her posture half-apologetic and half-nervous. The same Nessa who once organized my entire life with clockwork precision now looks like a stranger in my space.


    "Asher...I mean, Mr. Rollins," she says softly.


    I move to my desk, a feet away from her. "You have no business being here."


    "I know. I just...wanted to talk."


    "About what?"


    She fidgets, eyes darting to the floor. "Josh and I... we’re over. He...he cheated on me."


    I huff a quietugh. "Shocking. However, I don’t see how that is any of my business or that of thepany that pays you."


    Her shoulders slump. "I understand. That’s why I’m not here hoping to crawl back into your life. I just... wanted to clear the air. I don’t like how things ended between us."


    "Maybe you should’ve thought of that before climbing into my half-brother’s bed." She flinches and I almost regret my words. Am I still steamed from my meeting with father?


    When I turn away, she blurts out, "If I tell you I have information about Josh that could score you points with your father, would you be able to forgive me then?"


    I stop mid-step. "You’re toote. I don’t need to score points with my father..."


    "How about the board and the public sentiment of Danvarr youths?"


    Now, my eyebrows arch. "What kind of information are we talking about?"


    She swallows hard and steals a nce at the camera. Instinctively, she pulls me away to the blind spot and speaks in hushed tones.


    "I overheard a few disturbing calls he took. It appears he messed up really bad. I think he identally let a damagingpany file leak, something that could bury Rollins Group for good. He’s been getting ckmailed ever since. He’s spent all of his money and his mom’s trying to buy the silence of the ckmailer and now, he’s stealing money from thepany through falsified documents to keep a lid on the secret before your father or the board finds out. It wasn’t easily detectable because at the time, thepany was under fire due to thest scandal. That’s how he got away with most of the unbnced ounts, because everyone assumed the losses were as a result of loss of goodwill and sales. I thought you’d want to know."


    "Nessa, do you have any idea how serious these usations are?"


    "Of course, I do Asher. I’m not stupid or making this up to get back at him. I know how much thispany means to you and how hard you work to keep it running. I couldn’t bring myself to hide this from you. I can get you proof if you want."


    She seems confident in her ability to back up her im and that scares me. Could Rollins Group be on the verge of bankruptcy and extinction because of Josh? As much as I want Josh out of the picture, taking down thepany with him is something that doesn’t sit right with me.


    I can’t have that.


    "Leave, and don’te back until you have tangible evidence."


    Nessa’s eyes glisten as she grabs her bag. "I will be back."


    I look at her onest time. "I hope not."


    I mean it and though she understands the context being referred to, it still hurts her to hear me say those words. The door closes quietly behind her.


    For a long moment, I just stand still with my heart thrumming. What kind of damaging information could Josh have let leak and most importantly, why am I unaware of such apany secret? Did father really trust Josh with a secret he never even told me? I am beyond livid just thinking about how two-faced Brett is.


    I pick up my phone and dial Dean. He answers on the third ring.


    "It’s Asher Rollins."


    "Asher? To what do I owe the honor?" He replies, warmth bleeding through the receiver.


    "We’re having a family meeting," I quip, cutting through his pleasantries. "You need to be there. I’ll send you the details."


    There’s a pause. Then, softly, "Of course. I’d be honored."


    "One more thing," I add. "Ashley’s been trying to convince us to have dinner with you. I know you put him up to it. I’ll talk to Ashton and Ashal. We’ll have <i>one</i> dinner with you, before the general family meeting" I can hear him sigh in relief. "But I have one condition; you can’t bring up the past or say anything about our parents. Understood?"


    He hesitates. "Understood."


    "Good." I hang up before he can say more.


    ***


    The sun dips low by the time I drive through Anna’s neighborhood. The streets here are quiet. I don’t know why I am here. Maybe its got something to do with the shitty day I had. I tell myself I’m just checking in, making sure she and Demi are safe, but even I don’t buy that lie anymore.


    Then I see her and feel a dull ache inside my hollow shell.


    Anna. She’s standing on her porch, escorting a tall man to his car. Herughter is as light as I remember. My heart clenches painfully when she leans up to hug him, fingers brushing his arm. His hands circle her waist as he returns the hug.


    Something in me snaps, like a rupture under my ribs. I don’t wait to see the man’s face. I press harder on the elerator and my car engine roars. I take the turn so fast the road ahead blurs into streaks of light.


    "It’s fine, Asher." I tell myself, and honestly, it’s fine. After all, we never had abel thanks to me. She owes me nothing. It was good while itsted.


    But the image of her smiling at someone else clings to the back of my mind. By the time I hit the highway, my hand is already reaching for my ringing phone. It’s father.


    "Asher, how could you just walk out like that? We weren’t done talking..."


    "You’re right." I concur to his amazement. "There’s still more to discuss. Why don’t we talk about those heiresses you wanted me to meet?"


    Whatever he was expecting, it’s definitely not my calmness nor the words I just spewed. "Are you serious?"


    "I am. Talkter." I hang up before he can gloat.


    The night wind rushes through the window. It’s cool against my skin, but it doesn’t reach the fire burning beneath.


    Maybe this is better. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending I can have both love and control. Maybe it’s time to choose the version of myself that hurts less to lose.


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