Page 7 of Ugly Truths (The Veiled Truths Trilogy #2)

Silas

T he hot coffee that burns down the back of my throat does little to distract from the way my frustration has been building with every passing minute.

Across the conference table, Davey scrolls through his tablet, the glow from the screen reflecting off his reading glasses. Neither of us says a word. I set my mug down with a bit too much force before running a hand through my hair.

My father is late. Again.

We’re heading into Q4, and there’s still so much to finalize before the executive transition in the new year.

Since the board signed off on the paperwork with a definitive date, William treats these meetings like they’re optional.

I’ve been doing my best to manage my temper around him lately, but it’s a Herculean effort.

With a deep breath, I lean back in my chair.

The irony isn't lost on me that despite everything, I owe him more than ever. I’m thankful that he saw what I couldn’t.

That Scarl— Elena —was using me. He might not know that she is the reason those warehouses went up in flames, but he knows she left town only a couple of weeks after he cast her out of our “family” dinner.

But it’s almost impossible to be grateful when William seems intent on testing me at every turn, with those goddamn servers being at the top of the list .

They’ve been a thorn in my side since June.

William oversaw their relocation and security.

At first, I was too murderous about Elena to care much at all, but now, I don't know what to think. Even Davey hasn’t been able to get much information from him.

The fact that I’ve been shut out only fuels my need to find whatever Elena thought he was hiding in them.

The door swings open, yanking me from my thoughts. My father strides in with his advisor, Brenden, trailing behind like a shadow.

“Apologies for the delay,” William says, though there’s nothing apologetic about his tone. He sets his leather portfolio on the table and unbuttons his jacket.

There’s an unshakable certainty that the world will snap in half to accommodate my father.

I used to try to emulate the charisma he wields like a sword and can turn on in the drop of a hat, but forcing myself into a skin that didn’t fit never worked.

For him, he doesn’t need to even think about it. It just is .

Although I mostly resemble my mother in appearance, there’s no denying the similarities between my father and me. Especially our eyes—dark brown, sharp, unrelenting. His, because he expects the world to fall in line voluntarily. Mine, because I know I’ll have to bend it to my will.

“It’s fine,” I respond, my voice tight. “Let’s get started. We need to finalize the plans for Q4 and iron out some of the transition details.”

William waves a hand dismissively as he finally takes his seat. “We have time for that. I’ll still be here after the end of the year to assist with the transition. There’s no need to rush.”

I grit my teeth. “I’d prefer to have as much squared away beforehand as possible, especially because we're about to announce it to the public at the end of the week. Our team needs continuity and stability.”

He leans back. “Stability doesn’t happen overnight, Silas. It’s a process that I’ll oversee when the time comes.”

I exhale sharply. “I’d also like an update on the servers. It’s been months, and I still don’t know where things stand. ”

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face. “The servers are secure,” he says, giving nothing else.

“They’re an essential step to ensure transparency during the transition,” Davey cuts in before I can respond. I glance at him, surprised. William raises a brow, the faintest lift, but Davey doesn’t back down.

“Silas can’t do his job properly without complete infrastructure access,” my brother-in-law continues, setting his tablet down. “And from a procedural standpoint, I also need that access for the audits. If we’re expected to conduct a proper review, we can’t do that with blind spots.”

Brenden shifts in his seat, eyes darting to William. My father has been pushing to skip the audits for weeks now, arguing that my current level of involvement is sufficient. I’ve refused every time.

Skipping a standard procedure during a leadership transition would send the wrong message to our teams, and too much has surfaced recently to justify overlooking anything.

It’s been small but significant things. The first was a quiet restructuring of the R not manufacturing alarm where none exists.”

My blood heats at the insinuation, but Davey only nods, unbothered.

“I agree. Stability should be the priority,” he replies, “and the best way to ensure it is by following the standard procedures every company in our position would take during an executive transition. ”

William’s jaw tightens. Davey pays it no mind as he continues.

“As the future CSO—” he begins, then glances at me.

I give a single nod. The board vote is a formality.

He’ll have the title by the end of Q1 of next year.

“As the future CSO, we both need to be fully briefed on all critical infrastructure. If I’m going to be accountable for our security posture, I need full visibility. ”

William’s expression hardens for just a breath before he hides it behind a polished, controlled smile. “Well,” he replies, “that’s quite the response. Spoken like a true leader.”

My father’s gaze flicks between Davey and me. I can see the calculation behind it—he’s searching for a way to pivot, but there isn’t one. Not without making this harder on himself in the long run.

He exhales quietly, the faintest concession. “Brenden will send over the details. I expect you to keep this information confidential, just as we did with the warehouse.”

“Thank you,” Davey answers with the slightest hint of relief in his voice. “We’ll review the information as soon as it’s sent.”

William nods, already standing even though he just arrived. “I’ll leave you to your Q4 planning, then.”

Brenden rises wordlessly, following William out of the room. The door clicks shut behind them, followed by a short silence.

“That was telling,” Davey says cautiously.

I push back my chair, leaning as far back as it allows while my mind churns. “Agreed.”

Before June, I might have thought my father was being his usual, paranoid self. Now, I have Elena's letter screaming in the recesses of my mind, reminding me of what she was trying to do that night. Was she onto something, or was it another elaborate ruse to divide my family further?

Either way, I don't like it.