Page 12

Jade

I glide past the heavy oak door just as my parents’ grandfather clock chimes seven fifteen. Smug satisfaction curls my lips for a fleeting moment. I sent Mother’s driver away when he showed up at five, and a little while later, I took a rideshare so I could catch a ride home with Alexis. Seems I’ve timed it perfectly, skipping the bitter prelude of cocktails and hollow laughter.

The living room is a stage as I enter, the actors poised in their respective corners. All of my half-siblings and their spouses are clustered like planets around their mother, Margo, my father’s first wife. Alexis and her husband, Bryant, salute me from across the room, where they’re sitting with our mother, Candi, our father’s current wife.

“Jade, darling, you made it.” Margo’s voice drips with something saccharine and venomous. “We were just about to sit down without you. Since Jade has finally arrived, we can eat,” she announces.

I suppress an eye roll. I hate how, as mother of the heir apparent, Margo always acts like the matriarch at these meals, though this is no longer her home. And anyway, they always eat at seven thirty, so I know they weren’t actually waiting for me, but it’s a good excuse to move into the dining room.

I sashay to my usual chair, the one that offers a clear view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Sometimes, I need to mentally transport myself there amidst this madness. The table is set with an opulent spread, a multi-course battleground under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. My father presides at the head, a king in his court, while rivals old and new angle for his fleeting favor. My mother sits at the opposite end of the table, and flanking my father are his two sons, my half-brothers—JP on his right and Henry on this left. Margo sits in the middle of table across from Julia, one of my father’s former mistresses and mother to our youngest half-brother, Augustus.

Margo’s faction has staked their claim, their postures rigid. They are Allerton Mining through and through, veins pumping not blood but the very minerals they extract from the Earth. Their allegiance is absolute, bought and paid for by shares and salaries. And there lies the fault line between us—their willingness to kiss the ring my father wears, a symbol of his infidelity and their ascent.

“Nice of you to join us,” JP quips with a smirk. He’s dressed to the nines, a tailored suit hugging his frame like a second skin, the opposite of my mud-speckled yoga pants and hoodie.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I reply dryly, folding myself into my seat between Augustus and my sister, Alexis. Her husband, Bryant, is across from us. I’m keenly aware of the contrast between the rest of them and me. I am the sculptor, hands forever marked by clay, while they are the polished statues, lifeless in their perfection.

Steadily, I meet each gaze around the room, the air thick with unsaid things and the heavy scent of expensive cologne. This is the game they play, the dance of power and manipulation. And I’m the rogue piece on the board, moving to my own rhythm, refusing to bend or break. They hate me for it, and I take perverse pleasure in knowing that.

A server materializes to fill my glass with water, and I murmur my thanks.

Julia smiles over at me. She worked for Allerton Mining’s public relations firm and thought that by getting pregnant with my half-brother, she would find herself a place in the family hierarchy. But instead, she’s stuck begging for table scraps. Augustus, her son, is in his second year of Harvard’s MBA program. Dad never pulled the strings for JP or Henry’s education, but he did for Augustus. It is another reminder of what has been birthed from scandal and my father’s games.

“Julia,” I acknowledge with a nod.

Augustus offers a perfunctory smile. It’s clear he knows the weight of the check his mother will leave with tonight, hush money disguised as familial generosity.

“How’s school going?” I ask him, attempting to be pleasant.

“I can see the light at the end of the tunnel,” he replies smoothly.

“Congratulations. Resilience runs in the family,” I say. It’s a truth I cling to, a silent vow that I won’t be bought or sold for any price, not like the loyalties that shift around me with the ease of chess pieces on my father’s board.

“Jade,” JP notes as he again appraises my mud-splattered appearance, “you could have at least cleaned up a bit.”

Why is he so committed to baiting me? I meet his gaze squarely. “I worked today, JP,” I explain. “Not everyone lives on the family dole.”

My mother’s eyes dart between us, annoyance crossing her features. She’s teetering on the brink, the atmosphere of judgment only sharpening her edges. She believes everyone’s appearance reflects on her, another hoop to jump through for my father’s approval. But tonight, I refuse to be her show pony.

“Enough chatter,” my father commands. He shoots me a look that’s part warning, part dismissal, likely knowing full well that JP and I are but a spark away from igniting an argument that could burn down any semblance of civility at this table. “Let’s eat.”

I draw in a slow breath, tamping down the frustration that blossoms each time Margo needles me with her eyes or when Henry smirks from across the table. I hold their gazes with a calm that belies the storm churning within me.

As the courses unfold before us, it might as well be a shareholder meeting. Father presides at the head of the table, doling out passive-aggressive quips with the ease of a seasoned executive. “So disappointing that Cooper can’t be here to join us,” he says, his tone light. “But this is a family-only dinner.”

I offer him a placid smile, one that’s practiced and empty. It’s the same smile I’ve perfected for gallery openings and interviews, where words are traps and silence is a shield. “I’m just glad I was able to make it,” I reply, giving nothing away.

He continues to prod, tossing comments my way as if scattering breadcrumbs, waiting for me to peck and squabble like the rest. But I won’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I spear a delicate piece of fish with my fork, focusing on the rich flavors and not the bitter taste of his contempt.

Eventually, JP and my father are the only ones talking at the table as another course is served, waitstaff fluttering with precision. Father’s eyes lock on JP’s.

“Where are you with the Waldorf property acquisition?” he inquires.

JP sets down his utensils, clearing his throat. “It’s been…challenging,” he admits. “The Waldorfs haven’t quite gotten over the, uh, wedding fiasco.” He stares at me, but I pretend I don’t notice. “It’s putting a strain on the negotiations.”

He squirms under Father’s gaze, a slight flush creeping up his neck. I know that flush. It’s the stain of guilt, barely concealed beneath a veneer of composure.

“Indeed,” Father replies, arching an eyebrow in my direction. “And where does family loyalty fit into this equation, Jade?”

“Family loyalty?” JP chimes in before I can respond. “Dad, it’s clear Jade doesn’t understand that concept. While she plays in the mud, I’m out there making the Waldorf merger complete.”

A scoff escapes me before I can reel it in. “Maybe the deal would move faster if Cooper hadn’t been so busy face fucking a bridesmaid,” I grumble, every pair of eyes suddenly fixed on me.

The gasp from Trina, Henry’s wife, is audible, her fork pausing mid-air. My mother’s lips press into a thin line, and Alexis shakes her head ever so slightly, a silent warning that goes unheeded.

“Jade!” Father thunders. “That is not how we talk in this family.”

For once, I don’t look away.

My father watches me, his eyes two cold flints in the dim light. “You’ve always been the reckless one,” he says, his voice low and cutting. “Throwing away opportunities, walking away from responsibilities. What’s next? Burning this family to the ground?”

His words are designed to sting, and they do, but not in the way he intends. If walking away means freedom, maybe a little fire is exactly what I need.

I clench my jaw, feeling the burn of defiance flare within me. “It was a marriage neither of us wanted. Cooper’s actions made that abundantly clear. And the prenup would have left him with a chunk of change. I was looking out for the family.”

Father leans back in his chair, and there’s a moment when the silverware seems to shine brighter under his scrutinizing gaze. “You’re part of this family whether you like it or not,” he continues. “The land acquisition was worth more than the silly payout from your trust if your marriage dissolved. That was a decision to be made by me. Not you.”

My mother now adds her two cents with a voice smooth as polished stone. “It should be family first, Jade.”

“Family first,” I murmur under my breath, casting a sidelong glance at her. Such a kiss ass.

“JP is working tirelessly to secure this deal,” Father adds, his voice sprinkling salt into the wound. “And what are you doing? Making dishes?”

The table feels suddenly claustrophobic, the air too thick to breathe. I straighten in my seat. “At least I can stand on my own and be proud of myself,” I answer.

“Sure,” he replies, with a slight nod. “It’s great that you’re making a living now, Jade. But you bought that studio with your family money. All of the supplies you bought were paid for by family money. Yes, you make money, but that’s because you had money to pay for this…this hobby. What happens when things go wrong? Do you really think that pottery business is going to sustain you forever?”

In his world, nothing is valid unless it’s built on the bedrock of Allerton Mining Corporation. But I refuse to let his doubt seed itself within me.

“Forever is a long time,” I say, meeting his stare. “But so far, it’s sustaining me just fine.” I fold my arms as JP straightens his tie and commandeers the conversation.

“As for the Waldorf Estate,” he declares, turning to our father, “the land acquisition is progressing. We’ve included a rider in the contract that gives us first right of refusal for any property they want to sell in the future.”

I’m silently grateful that JP is more interested in being the center of attention than me being raked over the coals.

Father’s eyes gleam with interest, and I can see him mentally calculating potential profits. JP rambles on about expansion strategies and projected revenue like a man auditioning for the lead role in a corporate saga.

“Of course, we’re taking every precaution.” JP’s voice is a purring engine of confidence.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I pick at a fleck of clay on my hoodie, feeling out of place.

Margo’s second son, Henry, clears his throat, a calculated interruption that snags Father’s attention. “JP’s deal isn’t going as smoothly as he claims.” Henry looks casual, but there’s a sharp edge to his voice. “I’ve heard things that could impact us, a few whispers at the San Francisco Club. The Waldorfs aren’t exactly thrilled.”

I hate the San Francisco Club. It’s a men-only establishment, and it’s full of blowhards who think women are second-class citizens.

A shadow falls over Father’s face. Henry has thrown a stone into still water, and it’s causing ripples. I watch Margo’s eyes widen. She doesn’t want her children fighting, but Dad sure does.

“Is that so?” Dad’s gaze shifts between his eldest sons, weighing their words, measuring their worth.

JP’s veneer cracks, just slightly, as he shoots a glare at Henry. “Whatever concerns you’ve heard, I’m handling them,” he says, but his voice lacks its earlier certainty. The balance of power teeters, and for a fleeting second, I almost enjoy the show.

I can’t suppress it. The eye roll comes naturally, an instinctive response to the undercurrents of tension that coil around the dining table like a hungry serpent. Beside me, my sister mirrors the gesture, and for a moment, our shared disdain unites us against the charade unfolding before our eyes.

“Jade, Alexis, don’t be childish,” Mom chastises.

“Sorry, Mother,” I mutter, not sorry at all. Our synchronized eye rolls are the least of this evening’s offenses, but they’re an easy target.

Before another word can be spoken, Augustus seizes his moment. “Dad and I were talking about a school project I can develop for the family.” He speaks with the kind of casual confidence that comes from knowing you’re the golden child of the moment.

I glance over at JP, whose posture stiffens, his back becoming a rod of tension. The Harvard MBA was always a sore subject, a milestone our father never finessed for him but now adds weight to Augustus’s words.

Dad looks pleased, nodding for Augustus to continue. JP’s hands clench into fists, a dam holding back the flood of envy and resentment that must be churning inside him.

“I have to submit a business plan with real business implications that will be my final project—”

I don’t even hear Augustus’s stupid idea. I just watch JP’s face turn green. Dad nods approvingly when Augustus stops talking, but I note a lack of any firm commitments about moving forward. Classic Dad.

Then he turns his attention to Alexis. “I do love having options. We have almost an embarrassment of riches these days it seems, don’t we, dear?”

Alexis tips her chin modestly, and I once again turn my attention to JP. His lips are so firmly attached to Dad’s backside that he often misses where Dad is going. I wait for the realization to hit. Alexis and Dad have been up to something, and I suspect the others are not aware. I wasn’t aware either.

Alexis leans forward with a smirk. “Oh, didn’t dear ol’ Dad tell you?” she says. She doesn’t even glance at me as she twists the metaphorical knife deeper into JP’s ego. “While you were busy with the Waldorfs, I’ve been negotiating with another party. Dad’s given me the go-ahead, and the property I’m negotiating for is going to change everything.”

I’m shocked. Alexis rarely gets an opportunity like this, though I know she’s capable. Bryant laces his fingers with hers, and I nearly burst with pride.

The table erupts in a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and not-so-veiled envy from everyone at the table. I’m so glad not to be working for the company.

JP’s face turns an interesting shade of crimson, and I can almost hear his confidence shattering.

Margo’s eyes are round. Despite being the ex-wife, she’s always felt her place was secure because JP was next in line. And if not JP, she’s seemed sure Dad would place Henry. But if Alexis swoops in, that puts her future in jeopardy. The same is true if Augustus moves in with his business plan and brand-new Harvard MBA.

Dad sits back in his chair, an insufferable grin on his face. The spectacle of us clawing at each other for scraps of his approval is his favorite kind of entertainment. He thrives on the discord, the competition, feeding off it like some grotesque parasite.

“I’ve been thinking about expanding the business,” he says, dangling a bauble in front of Alexis, every word calculated. “Maybe there’s a role for you.”

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. Doesn’t she see? The way to beat Dad isn’t to vie for a seat at his table. It’s to flip the damn table over. But here she is, playing right into his hands, vying for a crown that’s nothing more than a gilded cage.

I swallow the retort that threatens to burst out of me. They all think they’re winning, but they’re just pawns. Dad is the only player who knows all the rules.

JP’s eyes, cold and calculating, return to me across the shimmering expanse of crystal and silverware. “You know, Jade,” he says, his voice oozing false concern, “you really should sort things out with Cooper.”

I scoff. “Oh, JP, you’re too kind to worry about my affairs. Especially when you’ve been boasting that your deal is practically sealed. Seems like you don’t need me to mend fences.”

JP’s lips curl into a sneer. “You think walking away makes you better than the rest of us? It just makes you predictable.”

“Predictable?” I fire back. “This coming from the guy who’s spent his entire life trying to be Dad’s favorite?”

His jaw tightens, a flicker of something—pain, maybe?—crossing his face before he recovers. “At least I know what loyalty looks like,” he says quietly.

I realize then that it’s not just ambition driving him. It’s desperation. JP’s always been fighting for something he’ll never get, and somehow, my refusal to play the game only makes his struggle worse.

There’s a tense silence, and then Dad clears his throat. “Jade, grow up.” He slaps his hand on the table. “Put the family first for once,” he commands. “Do your part.”

My heart slams against my chest. “You are my family, but I’m not getting back together with Cooper. Not now, not ever. I won’t set aside my own life for yours.”

Dad’s face darkens, a storm cloud ready to burst. With a force that makes the stemware quiver, he pounds his fist on the table. “You’ll regret it if you don’t,” he warns, his voice thunderous.

I meet his anger with a steady gaze, my resolve an unmovable boulder in the river of his wrath. I will not be swept away by his demands, not this time. “You’ve already disowned me. And I don’t need to inherit your money. You can’t disown me a second time.” I throw up my hands and shove my chair back, the sharp skid of wood on floor quieting the room.

“You’ve spent your life trying to control us with your money and power, but you don’t own me anymore. I don’t need you or your business. I’m done.” The words spill out, hot and unyielding, pouring all my years of frustration into the space between me and the man at the head of the table.

The dining room erupts into chaos, voices overlapping in shock and outrage. I catch glimpses of my siblings’ wide eyes and my mother’s open mouth, but it’s all background noise, a distant storm I’m no longer part of.

I stride toward the door, my heart pounding. I can feel their stares boring into my back, but I push forward, eager for the cool night air.

I step outside, and the heavy door slams shut behind me. My hands shake as I fumble with my purse, and I pause, forcing myself to take a deep breath.

Walking away should feel like a victory, but all I feel is the weight of what I’ve left behind. The family dinners I’ve endured, the compromises I’ve made… It’s always been about proving I could belong on my own terms. But tonight, I didn’t just walk away from that. I walked away from the idea that I ever could.

My father’s voice lingers in my mind. Reckless. Selfish. Maybe he’s right. Or maybe he’s just angry not to be getting his way.

Once outside, I pull out my phone with hands that tremble with adrenaline. I call up the rideshare app, and within moments, a car is on its way.

Pacing in front of the grand entrance, I fight the old, familiar gnawing in my gut. The edge, that sharp, serrated line that used to drive me to seek solace in the burn of liquor sliding down my throat. But no, not tonight. Not ever again. I’ve come too far to crumble now.

As I wait, the crisp night whispering secrets to the stars above, I close my eyes and take deep, steadying breaths. One day at a time, Jade. Just one day at a time. My breath comes in short puffs, visible against the lights that twinkle like distant galaxies. The urge to numb the sharp edges of this night is strong, almost overpowering. But after a few minutes it’s not the lure of a glass filled with amber tranquility that calls to me. It’s Rhys.

Rhys, with his easy smile, a guy who could make everything feel less complicated, if only for a moment. The thought of calling him sends a thrill through me. My thumb hovers over his name on the screen. It would be so easy to call him, to hear his voice, to let someone else carry the weight for a little while.

But that’s not how this is supposed to work. I’ve spent years building my independence, and despite my recent risky moves, I’m terrified of losing it. What if letting him in means losing myself? What if needing him is the first step back to needing anyone?

The rideshare appears, and I love that this driver isn’t a chatter. My mind is elsewhere. Again, I consider reaching out to Rhys, asking him to stop by. But is that what I really want?

The screen goes dark, and I let it. I can handle this. I have to.

I’ve seen online that Rhys isn’t a man for promises or tomorrows. He’s a one-and-done, no-strings-attached kind of encounter. And right now, that’s part of his allure, the guarantee of no complications. But we’ve started out on a different path. I think we’re becoming friends. He’s someone whose company I genuinely enjoy without the complications of the bedroom. Am I ready to risk that fragile friendship for a night of distraction?

Sex with Cooper was never really that good, I remind myself.

No, I can’t call Rhys. Not tonight.

Once back in my hotel room, I don’t bother turning on the lights, content in the soft glow that seeps in from the City outside. Without ceremony, I pick up the phone and dial room service. “Hi, I’d like to order the chocolate cake, please. The large slice. Thank you.”

As I wait for the indulgence that’s become my new vice, I rationalize that calories are much better than pills or alcohol. I grab my phone again and type out a message to Rhys.

Me: Hey. Fancy a run tomorrow morning?

His response comes swiftly, a vibration against my palm that somehow steadies me.

Rhys: Sure. Same time, same place?

Me: Please.

Me: See you then.

A knock at the door announces the cake’s arrival, and I set the phone aside and welcome the distraction.

Rhys: Looking forward to it.

I return with my cake to stare at the screen, my thumb brushing over his words. Whatever tomorrow brings, I’ll figure it out. But deep down, I know I’m not just running with Rhys in the morning. I’m running toward something I may not be totally ready for.