Chapter 17: The Plan

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                The car door slammed and Bryce glanced at Dixon, not sure how to feel about the situation. Michelle’s transplant surgery was the following day, and her father had made it clear that he wouldn’t go through with it unless Bryce signed the contract. Psychotic son of a bitch, Bryce thought idly. Dixon was more than just a personal assistant, Bryce knew, he was a family friend.

“What is it?” Dixon asked. “Why the cloak and dagger meeting, huh? Why all of the mystery?”

“Chill, I need something from you,” Bryce said. “I need your help.”

“Look, I am not your buddy,” Dixon said. “Do you think I haven’t seen the contracts you intend to sign? I know you’re betraying Michelle tomorrow. She’s dying, and you’re cashing out your end of the deal. Asshole.”

“I am not cashing out,” Bryce said. “That’s not a financial contract; it’s blackmail. Mr. Silas is forcing me to sign that thing, or he’ll refuse to do the transplant surgery.”

“So Michelle knows what you’re doing and why,” Dixon said.

“No, and she doesn’t need to know. I will never sign the contract.”

“So you’ll stay married, and Michelle could die. That’s much better.”

                “I know this is an impossible situation,” Bryce replied. “I need you to talk to Mr. Silas. He’ll listen to you.”

The laughter that came from the car was immediate and bellowing. Bryce glared at Dixon, his temperature rising. He didn’t have time for Dixon’s games; Michelle was sleeping in his bed without him. Bryce was eager to get home and hold her, and he only had a small window to fix the situation.

“I’m so sorry,” Dixon said. “It’s just so funny that you think Mr. Silas would listen to me. That man does not listen, certainly not to his flamboyant assistant.”

 “So you won’t try,” Bryce replied.

“I can do better,” Dixon said, his laughter diminishing. “There is one thing Paul Silas listens to. It’s not me, or Michelle, or even that little tramp Britain.”

“So what does Paul Silas listen to?”

“Coercion,” Dixon smirked. “More specifically, blackmail. The only way Paul will listen is if he is forced to. He is too stubborn to listen to reason.”

“So do you have any dirt on him,” Bryce asked.

“I have perfect dirt,” Dixon said. “I keep a file on him just in case he goes berserk and fires me. I’ll have a severance package, let me tell you.

“So what is in the file then?”

“Mr. Silas is having an affair with a woman his own age. She isn’t just some bimbo either; she was best friends with Michelle’s mother. Paul is banging Michelle’s godmother.”

                “So, that might mess up his mess-free divorce plans,” Bryce replied. “Britain can use his affair to invalidate the pre-nuptial agreement and take his fortune.”

“Also, this woman is a good person,” Dixon said. “Just remember, Paul Silas can bear to lose some money. But his mistress, well, I think he needs her.”

“And you have proof,” Bryce asked.

“I’ll bring it by in the morning,” Dixon said.

Bryce just nodded and Dixon stood up, leaving the car. Paul Silas be damned, Bryce would save his wife and keep her too.

***

Bryce had told Michelle he was going to check in on her father, who was being prepped for surgery in another room. He had mentioned the showdown about to happen between the two, or the possible implications. Bryce knew somewhere, deep down, he’d sign that damn paper if he had to. At this point he’d bleed himself dry to get Michelle healthy, so losing her seemed like a small price. But Bryce had a manila envelope full of leverage, and he intended to use it. Bryce entered in, a small man in suit watching his every step. Paul Silas’ Lawyer, Bryce thought, the only person that man trusts.

“Bryce,” Mr. Silas said. “Welcome to the best day of my life.”

“Hmm,” Bryce said. “Thank you again sir, for doing such a selfless thing for your daughter.”

“If you’re trying to guilt me into letting you out of the deal, you’re a fool. I don’t get guilt.”

“But you do understand extortion.”

“Excuse me,” Paul Silas turned his gaze towards his lawyer with a sneer.

“Well, you want to blackmail me,” Bryce said. “My contract, that I haven’t signed yet, says nothing about me revealing your secrets.”

“You’ve got nothing,” Paul snapped.

“I have a name,” Bryce replied. “Pamela Fontanel. Do you want to hear my times and places, or see my photos?”

“So,” Paul said. “I’m leaving Britain. She may as well find out.”

                “But then your wife gets all your money.”

“I’ll make more.”

“But what of you lost the one thing you cared about,” Bryce asked. “See, I called Pamela and told her Michelle needed her support. She’s right there in Michelle’s room, catching up. What would happen if I walked in there and showed them this contract?”

“There is a non-disclosure clause, you ass.”

“I haven’t signed that,” Bryce quipped. “And I don’t intend to. So unless you want Pamela, Michelle, probably even the Seattle Times to find out you tried to use your daughter’s life as leverage to get rid of your son in law. And I’m not certain, but the reason I’ll be giving the paper is that you didn’t want your daughter married to some ‘Hispanic frat boy.’ Tell me, what does a scandal involving racism do to stock prices?”

“You bastard,” Paul yelled. “I will sue you for slander. I will rip you apart.”

“No, you won’t,” Bryce smirked. “It’s not slander if it’s true. Then it’s a free speech issue. And frankly, I can prove this is all true. I have your signature on the contract, Paul. I win.”

“You may win this round,” Paul said. “But I will get you away from my daughter, one way or another.”

“No, you won’t. Mr. Silas, you may not realize this, but I would move heaven and earth to keep Michelle. She is much more than a dollar sign or a chess piece to me. She is my whole life. I will keep her alive, and keep her close, and you can’t break us. Like it or not, I am your son in law. You’re going to save her life, or I will ruin you.”

“Fine,” Paul said. “But this is not over.”

“Have a good surgery,” Bryce replied before he turned to leave.

He had battled his goliath and won, and now it was time to go and kiss his wife.

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