Page 51 of A Convenient Secret (Merged #3)

Lily

Celeste

I miss you.

Saar

Stop being whiny, she doesn’t need that on her plate.

Celeste

I’m a breastfeeding sleep-deprived mother, I get to be as whiny as I want.

I can tell her I miss her.

You know I’m a part of this conversation.

And I miss you too.

Have you seen him?

Saar

Not answering that.

Cora

How is your asshole cousin?

Scheming and trying to get through my security team.

Celeste

How is your dad?

Better.

Saar

Is the job still overwhelming?

They will find out I’m faking it soon.

Saar

BS. You’re smart.

Celeste

You’ve got this, Lils.

Cora

Can we ask how you are?

The same.

Saar

Fuck

“ Y ou work too hard.” My father coughs in his bed. He takes off his glasses and puts down the paperwork he’s been reviewing.

I look at him from the makeshift desk I set up in his room. “Really? Says the man who should be resting.”

“Oh, the doctors are just being extra-cautious,” he complains, as he’s been doing for the past four days since he returned from the hospital.

“I think that’s a good approach.” I return to the spreadsheet on my screen.

“You’re deflecting, Cookie.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not five anymore.” But I can’t help but grin at his use of my childhood name.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re deflecting.” He pins me with that fatherly gaze of his that always makes me sit up straighter. Even at almost twenty-six.

“Okay, I’m working extra hard because I have no choice. Because, for whatever reason, you decided none of your colleagues can run the company.”

“Oh, they can run it just fine, but none of them is you.”

“I don’t even know what that means. I’m not qualified.”

A part of me suspects my father insisted on my highly unusual appointment as CEO to force me to stay here. Another part hopes it was more a seal of approval rather than manipulation.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. I accepted because I want to make some changes. My family’s business is extremely successful, but not necessarily progressive in its internal policies, marketing practices, or business dealings.

I observed that as an intern, and now I’ve grabbed the chance to, at least, start implementing changes.

The position terrifies me. But it’s demanding enough to help me go through this life without breaking into pieces.

So yeah, my father might have manipulated me, but I beat him at his own game and took advantage of the situation.

I’ve been working fourteen hours every day, either here or in my father’s office. Burying myself in this work is the only way to banish certain thoughts from my mind.

It’s the only way to live with the agonizing pain that my bleeding heart injects into me at regular intervals. It’s been two weeks, and I feel only worse.

So I dive into another analysis, financial projection, expansion plan, marketing campaign, litigation case. Anything to keep the brain working hard enough not to leave any space for memories.

As much as I try, my heart is pumping beats of regret, grief, sadness, and often anger. At him. At me. At us. At Tim. At the media. At my father. At the world.

Even fourteen-hour workdays don’t tire me enough to fall into a dreamless slumber. I’m running on coffee and energy drinks. I try to kill myself in my private gym before bedtime, or right after I get up, but nothing works .

“You are a Spinelli.”

“That’s hardly a qualification. Let me remind you that Timothy is a Spinelli, too.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Dad, we had this argument so many times. I stepped in because you asked me to. I appreciate your trust in my abilities. But don’t ask me why I work this hard. Your trust and my name aren’t enough to get the job done.”

“I think you work hard to take your mind off something.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I didn’t exactly assume I was hiding my grief well, but I hoped my father would avoid the topic.

“Dad, I have to finish this before I leave for the office.”

“Come here, Lily.” He pats his bed.

Sighing, I climb beside him, resting my head on his chest as he wraps his arm around me.

“I failed you.” He kisses my crown.

“Dad—”

“No, let me finish. I have always been hard on you, especially after…” He peters out, never able to say my brother’s name. “After your mother left, I was always more focused on business than you.”

“Dad, you don’t have to—”

“I do. I guess facing one’s mortality brings some things into sharper focus.

I’m sorry I didn’t consider Tim an actual threat.

I should have protected you better from him, but I was so focused on work, on protecting the company from the in-family fighting, that I didn’t see…

or maybe I chose not to see what was really going on. ”

“I never blamed you for anything.”

“You should. I almost lost you because I had the wrong priorities. I’m not going to let that happen again.”

I sit, turning to face him. “Did you give me the job to atone?”

“No, I still love the company.” He smirks. “I just took everything else for granted. I’m glad to have you back.”

“A part of me is glad to be back, Dad.” I wish it was more; things would be so much easier.

“You left the other part in New York?”

I look away, and he takes my hand, patting it.

“You don’t have to tell me the details, but I hate seeing you this unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy, Dad. I’m happy to be back home, and I love the job. I didn’t even realize how much I cared about the company. I’m not going to lie, I am heartbroken, but I guess that is a rite of passage at my age. ”

“If he is half as smart as you, he’ll realize soon what he lost and come crawling back.”

I roll my eyes.

“But if that happens…”

“Dad, don’t—”

“Are you sure you want an instant family, an older divorced man with kids?”

“As opposed to my conniving, no-morals, corrupt cousin?” I slide from the bed to return to my work, done with this conversation.

“Touché.”

Okay, fuck it, I’m not done with the conversation. I turn back. “For the record, Declan Quinn is a wonderful, caring, and loving man and father. He listens, and makes me feel safe. He’s smart, loyal, passionate, confident, and honest—” My voice breaks. I can’t claim the last one.

I hurry to collect my things and flee from here before I bawl in front of my father.

“If he’s so perfect, then where is he?”

“One more signature here.” Someone shoves another contract in front of me. I scan the pages and scribble my name on the last one .

“Okay, let’s start.” I look around the room, at people who are the trusted advisers of my father.

Most of them have been with the company for a very long time. They all look at me like I’m a nuisance.

Their vision, when they suggested me as their interim boss to the board, was that I’d bring over Daddy’s to-do list and they would happily go about their own business.

Dad clearly has enough sway with the board to outvote his half-sister.

The problem with that is that Timothy is now trying to get to me, because with me in power, however temporarily, his undying love for me has bloomed.

He’s been whining to the reporters about how grateful he is for my return, and can’t wait to plan the wedding. What an idiot.

At least Dad is on my side this time, understanding better the level of evil his kin can stir.

Regardless of the turmoil of my personal life, to the people in this room, I’m a glorified messenger.

A poster child for nepotism. Mostly I’m just trying to grasp what’s going on here.

But there are certain things where I can’t help, but want to contribute, to breathe fresh air into the traditional operation.

I’m excited about this company, but it’s hard to harness passion when one’s heart is bleeding.

The gaping wound festers and spreads like a disease, infecting my every waking hour. A part of me wants to call Declan, and another part waits for his call.

What is worse, there is no part of me that hopes to forget and move on.

I’ve navigated mistrust and manipulation all my life. I want to be surrounded by people I can trust.

And therein lies my problem. Because deep down, I trust Declan. I trust the man who made me feel cherished, protected, beautiful, and smart. Who let me care for the most precious people in his life.

God, I miss Zoya and Zach.

I miss him.

I miss him so much.

Someone clears their throat and snaps me back to the reality of the boardroom.

Shit. Daydreaming—or rather day-nightmaring—isn’t really a CEO groove.

I take my time looking around, resting my gaze on every single person in the room. In some ways, this is familiar. I sat in at these meetings when I was an intern. But as an intern, I sat in the corner, soaking it all in.

Now, I’m sitting at the head of the table. Equipped by my father’s advice, a lot of theoretical knowledge, and little practical experience, I try to lean into my drive to continue growing this company, because I have nothing else to back me up .

That drive surprised me, to be honest. I didn’t expect to care so much. I didn’t expect I’d take the job with such a sense of responsibility and purpose. If I wasn’t hurting so much, I would love it all.

Before, Liliana Spinelli took on her duty. Now, it’s different. My stay in the US, my quest for some resemblance of independence, allowed me to assess my options better. And I fucking love this opportunity.

I look down at my notes and start the meeting, ticking off the topics my father wants an update on. I ask questions and challenge the reports, but my game is fully orchestrated by my father.

Finally, we get to the end of the list, and I look at the last two items. Items I added there. I consider adjourning the meeting. Who am I to pretend I know better?

Can you be any more perfect?

“Before we wrap up, I have two more things. I would like to see at least three new directions for our Christmas advertising, because frankly, updating our print ad from the fifties with a modern housewife is embarrassing.”