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Pushing away from the table, I pace across the room.
“What a bitter, controlling little troll her old man must be to pull this,” I mutter. “I can’t even imagine one man being so petty.”
“What?” Dexter says, his voice quiet. “Whose dad?”
“Do you need to ask, Bro?” Patton laughs harshly. “Little Miss Honeybee. It’s obvious. She comes along, kicks up trouble, and then daddy swoops in to sue the blood out of us.”
Dexter looks at me, waiting for confirmation. “Her father is Carroll Emberly the fucking Third?”
I nod. No point in hiding the truth now.
“Goddamn, Archer!” he snaps. “Didn’t you think it might have been useful to know that before?”
“And the fact that she’s in a family feud,” Patton says, slapping the back of his hand against the pile of papers. “This kind of shit follows you like a vulture.”
I fold my arms. “It’s none of your business, boys.”
“None of our business?” Patton narrows his eyes. “You’re callingthisnone of our business when it’s lighting our entire company on fire?”
“We’d have helped her anyway,” Dexter says with a sigh. “We wouldn’t have turned her away. But fuck, man. At least if we’d known, we might have been prepared for this.”
My cheeks balloon as I let out a sigh.
Maybe these two clowns have a point.
I told Winnie my brothers and I are close. Her private life is none of their business, but the fact that her father is after her definitely is now.
“I’m sorry.” I hold up my hands. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
“Damn right.” Patton’s still seething, and I can’t blame him.
“Did you know this was coming?” Dexter asks.
“No, of course I didn’t.” I scrub my face with my hands. “If I’d known, I’d have told you, all right? I’m not that big an asshole.”
Patton snorts, and Dexter leans his hip against the desk.
“We need a plan, Arch,” he says. “How do we combat this?”
“We own a billion-dollar company.” I keep my voice calm even though I want to hurl things at the floor. Maybe scream down the phone at Carroll fucking Emberly for going full vengeful psycho. “We have money to throw at it. We can beat it.”
“Money doesn’t make this shit go away,” Patton says. “Politicians and lawyers, they don’t care about profits. They’ll drag it out for years just for the misery factor, never mind flexing their dicks.”
I fucking hate that he’s right.
If I stay in this room with them any longer, though, I’m going to lose it.
After coming back from the damn meeting with Rina to this, my nerves are too raw.
I need to deal with this, but not fuckinghere.
A text pings my phone and I look at it absently. It’s from Colt.
Winnie took me to Grandma’s art fair. There’s a craft stand with bees and carvings!!! Can you meet us at the river market soon?
It’s a flimsy excuse, but it’ll do.
“That’s Colt. I’ve got to go,” I say, pocketing my phone again.