WORTHY, Part 3 (The Worthy Series) (11 page)

I glowered at him. “You ran a background check on me?”

“Just to be sure,” Milo said. “Just to make sure that all of my suspicions were correct.”

“And what suspicions were those?” I asked.

“That you had something to hide,” he said, his face sick. “That you were running from something. That as much as you professed to hate the Wharton Group and its CEO, you still loved him.”

God, that was hard to hear. It was hard to hear because it was coming from Milo, because it was shocking that he’d seen through me so easily, because it was true.

I did still love Jonathan, as messed up as that was. I loved him so much that I’d devoted these past few months to him completely — even as I professed that I hated him, that I was taking his happiness away, that I was ruining his life just as he’d ruined mine.

“You were married to Jonathan Wharton, and you never saw fit to tell me,” Milo said. “Was that the big secret, April? Were you afraid to tell us that you were just ruining your husband’s life?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I hissed at him. “You know what? Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out of my office, the fuck out of this firm, the fuck out of my life. We’re done here, Milo.”

“We were done from the start,” he said sadly, not rising to meet my anger. “There was never any legitimate chance between you and me, April.”

Milo got up to leave, and something inside of me broke. I didn’t want to be left like this. I didn’t want to know that I had no one, that I was alone.

“I’m sorry, Milo,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry. It’s just the stress of this whole thing, the realization that the investigation could really be over …”

“It is over, April,” Milo said. “You’re holding everything right in your hands.”

I dropped the file on my desk as if it had burned me.

“What you’re reading in to Jonathan and me isn’t true,” I lied. “That ship has sailed. Besides, we have evidence of his wrongdoing, proof that there have been misdeeds all along.”

I could see Milo’s question in his green eyes — had I somehow known about these misdeeds? Or had I just gotten lucky that there had been something to find, that I hadn’t nearly ruined this firm for nothing?

“We deserve to celebrate tonight,” I said finally. “We’ve all worked hard. Let’s do something special.”

Milo’s face softened a little bit. “Where do you want to go?”

“You decide,” I said. “Let me just clean up a little bit in here — Jesus, all this paper must’ve been a small forest — and I’ll met you at the car. Does that sound good?”

“Of course.” Milo stepped closer to me and kissed my forehead. I was aware that I’d dodged a bullet, that I’d convinced him for just a little while longer that everything was all right between us. I wondered just how wise that was.

The moment that Milo left my office, closing the door behind him, I swept all of the papers on my desk into the trash and positioned the file from the Wharton Group case in the middle of the cleared surface. It was time.

I dialed a number I had to Google to find and waited as the phone rang a couple of times before launching into elevator music. After a couple of seconds of soft jazz and muted trumpets, a voice cut in.

“You’ve reached Wharton Group. How may I direct your call?”

“Hi, may I please speak with Jonathan Wharton, please?”

“He’s busy at the moment,” the receptionist said briskly. “Who can I say is calling?”

“April Smith,” I said. “CEO of  —”

“Oh, yes, Ms. Smith,” the receptionist said quickly. “We all know who you are.”

That gave me more than a little pause. Who was “we?” And did they know who I really was?

“It seems you have me at a disadvantage, then,” I said, fighting to keep my voice as professional as possible. “If you know who I am, then you’ll want to put me through to Jonathan Wharton right away.”

“Ms. Smith, he’s in a meeting right now,” the receptionist said. “I can have him call you right back.”

That wasn’t good enough. I had Milo waiting for me and no time to spare.

“I’m sure you’re aware that my firm is doing an investigation on Wharton Group,” I continued, trying a slightly different tack.

“Everyone knows it,” the receptionist replied, sounding more and more interested with every second.

“Wouldn’t you want to know, if you were Jonathan Wharton, just what the status of that investigation is?” I plied. “And wouldn’t you want to know, if there was some sort of revelation or progress on the whole process, just who kept you from knowing about it?”

“Let me transfer you right away,” the receptionist said after just half a beat’s pause, and I had to smile as the elevator music came back on over the receiver of my desk phone.

“Goddamn it, Liz, I said no calls!” Jonathan’s voice exploded into my ear and made me jump clear out of my skin. I cleared my throat and forced myself back together again.

“This isn’t Liz,” I said, lowering my voice so that Jonathan got the full, throaty effect. I was too scared that I would be more recognizable over the phone than in person. “This is April Smith, CEO of —”

“I know who the fuck you are,” he interrupted. “What the fuck do you want?”

I’d been hesitant earlier about the fate of Wharton Group, but with that attitude, I was feeling better and better about being able to do the right thing, being able to exact my revenge on the man who had taken everything from me.

I didn’t feel even an ounce of guilt anymore. Milo could say whatever he wanted to say. Calling Jonathan was the best decision I’d ever made as CEO of the firm. This cemented everything. Jonathan was a different person from the one I’d been in love with, and it was like delivering a juicy bit of bad news to someone who completely deserved it.

“I thought I’d do you the courtesy of a phone call before you saw it on the news,” I said. “Kiss Wharton Group goodbye, would you?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line that I savored. I hoped his mouth had dropped open in shock. I hoped he had me on speakerphone and a dozen other important people had heard me deliver the verdict.

“What you think you might have found proves nothing,” Jonathan said, his voice tight. “It’s innocent until proven guilty, Ms. Smith.”

“It’s easy to say that when you’re not looking at what I’m looking at,” I said, brushing my hand lovingly over the folder Milo had prepared.

“What are you looking at?” Jonathan couldn’t resist the bait.

“A dossier full of tax returns,” I said cheerfully. There was no reason to hide the bounty we’d found. “Embezzlement, Mr. Wharton, and from you personally. Though I suppose my saying that is no shock to you. You knew what you were doing. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The silence on the other end of the line went on and on, and I felt like dancing a jig.

“Does your father know what you’ve done?” I asked softly. The Jonathan I’d known had been constantly trying to impress Collier with his work ethic, his performance as CEO. This would crush Collier.

“Leave my father out of this.” My husband’s voice was tired, defeated, and it somehow wasn’t the reaction I wanted. I wanted him to rage and curse at me. I wanted him to completely lose his shit, be furious, try to deny everything.

“When are you going to release the information?” he asked, his voice that same expressionless tone. I didn’t feel like I had won anything, and all of my glee evaporated.

“Why, are you thinking about skipping town?” I asked, trying again for a rise out of him.

“I’d maybe like to give a few people a head’s up that this is coming,” Jonathan said. “Is there any way I could do that? For you to hold off? For my family to not have to find out about this fuckery on CNN or MSNBC?”

The request surprised me. Jonathan cared about his family, cared about what they thought about him. If he cared so much now, what had led him to embezzle in the first place?

“Why did you do it?” I asked softly.

He heaved a long sigh that went on and on, and then the call ended. Just like that, it was over. Jonathan had thrown in the towel, and I knew that I had won, but there was no taste of victory in this. This tasted like ashes in my mouth.

I rested my phone back on its cradle and tried to savor the moment, but there was no savoring this. I’d hit Jonathan where it hurt him the most, and it had ended up hurting me, too. When I’d started waging this war, when I’d taken my place at my parents’ firm for this sole purpose, I never would’ve imagined that I would regretted the outcome of getting exactly what I wanted.

Jonathan was defeated, and I was victorious, but there was no real winner, here. In the end, we’d both lost everything, and I was just beginning to realize that I had lost even more throughout this campaign to bring my husband down to my level of despair. I’d lost my humanity — what little of it remained — in the process.

I took the folder in my hands again, hefting its weight. Now, it didn’t seem nearly as heavy. Such a flimsy thing had done a surprising amount of damage to a surprising number of people. I felt like it should be locked up in a cage or something, not just sitting here on my desk, in my arms. No one should have to touch this.

Not knowing what else to do, I shoved the folder in my purse and left the office. I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t be anywhere anymore.

I walked right by Milo out in the parking lot without even seeing him.

“April,” he said, laughing. “You’re walking around in a daze. Do you even know what to do with yourself after something this big? Have you lost all purpose in life?”

The lawyer came closer to hitting the mark than he knew. I didn’t have a purpose, and I now knew the one I’d chosen was a mistake. I’d used my parents’ company — nearly run it right into the ground, just like Felix had warned me against — in the pursuit of a personal vendetta. They had never wanted to use the firm for anything but good, and I had disgraced their memory. That was the worst realization of all, that I had forsaken everything for this deplorable act.

So what if Jonathan had done something bad? I’d been just as at fault in my misdeeds, too, wielding power that didn’t even rightfully belong to me like a sledgehammer, smashing anyone and everyone who stood in the way.

“Let’s get out of here,” Milo said, his face soft as he took me by the arm. “Can I take your mind off of work a little?”

The question had practically become his catch phrase. What I obviously needed right now was to take my mind off of work. That much was certain. Half of me wanted to flee from all of this, go back to the cottage, but the other half knew that wasn’t an option. The cottage wasn’t my home anymore, and I needed to see this thing through to its horrible end. Wheels were already turning in machines I had no control over. I couldn’t just ignore everything I had set in motion. I might not like the outcome, but this was my party, and I couldn’t run away from it.

“I’m ready,” I said.

“Feel like Ganesh tonight?” Milo asked, and something about that was right. We’d come full circle now, having eaten at the Indian restaurant the first night of our acquaintance. It was only appropriate that now, having completely ruined Jonathan’s life, I should go back to the place where it all began — my quest to move forward by stomping him down.

“That sounds good,” I said, trying to smile and failing.

Milo put his arms around me and hugged me. I didn’t care who knew about us in the firm anymore. I needed this hug even if I didn’t deserve it at all.

“I know plenty of people who always sort of lose their way after they’ve achieved their goals,” Milo said, kissing me on top of my head. “You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. Now would be a great time for a vacation, you know, to clear your head. To find your purpose. Just to relax and get away.”

That was too close to running away, and I wondered if Milo realized it.  I couldn’t leave. Not now.

“Take me to the bunny chow,” I said, trying weakly to show some kind of humor.

“You can’t have bunny chow again,” Milo teased, starting the car. “That’s a rule, April. Every time you go to the same restaurant, you have to try something different.”

That was fine. Milo could have his little rules. I wasn’t hungry at all, anyways.

Nothing had changed about Ganesh since the last time I’d seen it. It was still a little hole in the wall in a questionable area of Chicago. I just cared less this time, wasn’t nervous with the fluttery butterflies of a first date, wasn’t scheming on ways to ruin lives, wasn’t hopeful that there was any chance for me move forward.

Ganesh had stayed the same, and I’d just sunken deeper into the tragedy of my life.

“If you want the bunny chow, you can have the bunny chow,” Milo said, looking at me over his glass of champagne, which he’d ordered specially to celebrate the occasion. He’d misinterpreted my malaise as petty pouting.

“No, I should try something different,” I said. Besides, if I had bunny chow now, it might ruin the dish for me forever. I didn’t want the delicious fare to be forever associated with how terrible a person I was apparently capable of being.

“Well, what are you in the mood for?” he asked. “Something spicy? Something savory?”

Something that would save me. Was there anything on the menu for that?