Veronica
Physically, Jason McCann is a slip of a thing, with nothing to him but a swathe of bronze hair slicked back from his forehead and a face pretty enough to hold his generation's hopes and dreams closely against.
But maybe too pretty to keep those hopes and dreams from getting crushed. Especially by someone like me.
In a crisp white button down, skinny black tie, and tailored slacks, he fits in the stately, ornate conference room chosen for our board meeting today. Still, I could probably take him in combat. And I doubt that jawline is enough to get him to where his father was.
I size him up as he makes his way down the table of directors, shaking hands and clapping shoulders. I catch snippets of the conversations, polite condolences laced with jaunty bro jokes.
The stench of entitlement in the air wrinkles my nose. Here I am, in a room full of pretentious men, about to discuss their money. I can practically see the dollar signs lighting up their beady eyes, the sly edge to their grins as they see an opportunity to manipulate a young and impressionable heir.
God, I wish I wasn't here. I should've taken Frank seriously when he told me his life was in danger. He said he was going to die soon, and even if I had chosen to believe him at the time, I wouldn't have thought it would happen so soon. We spoke only two months ago - an unexpected conversation that escalated far worse than any custody parlay we ever had. He called me from a funeral, saying that someone he cared for had just died because of him and he was next. The pleading in his voice was clear, unabashed, but all he wanted was an ear to hear him out, not a shoulder to cry on.
So why didn't I believe him?
I know why. This was coming from a man that fell in love with me for a few years just because he and his wife were going through a rough patch. Not to mention he could close a business deal and whip out a Glock on a snitch in the same hour. So naturally when he said his life was under threat, I assumed he was just trying to get out of providing for the kids - even though he was always generous and on time with child support. He's the type to dismiss things as soon as they become a liability. Like he did to me.
Yet here I am, still mourning his loss and feeling uncertain in his absence. That must mean I still love him, somewhere. Or rather, he still loved me. At least enough to try and warn me.
I'm sure I'm the only person in the room who had these kinds of grievances with Frank McCann. I'm also the only woman - except for a dark-haired, provocatively beautiful one sitting across from me. I don't know her, but already I feel a connection by virtue - we are sheep amongst wolves. I wonder if she is another one of Frank's indiscretions, and earned her spot on the Board of Directors as a favor. She looks like his type anyway. Maybe we have more in common than I think.
I watch as Jason approaches her, and she stands, smoothing her skirt over her thighs.
The conversation is so short that I don't catch any of it, as I did with the others. From what I know about body language - which is a lot, thanks to my psychology degree and military training - I sense tension from Jason during the exchange. Brief handshake, sour expression. The woman watches him plainly as he comes over to me, and I think, Oh, boy, this condescending prick -
"Hi, I'm Jason," he says, as if I don't already know who he is. He offers his Rolex-adorned right hand. "Thank you for coming."
I'm quick to dismiss this as an over-polite attempt to dash away any perception of him as a brat. But he's looking me in the eye and sounds cordial. And offering your hand for someone to shake is the first sign of respect.
I return his firm grip. "Hello. I'm Veronica Clarke. I'm an IT specialist at your father's satellite location over at the base. I'm very sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. I appreciate it, really."
He doesn't move on immediately - I guess he's used to the universe eagerly morphing to his presence, even in an awkward silence - so I casually say, "I don't think we've ever met before."
"No, I don't think so, either. The pleasure's all mine." He slides his hands into his pockets and gives me a shy smile - it's reminiscent of a schoolboy. "My dad usually didn't introduce me to his pretty lady friends. He said I flirted with them too much."
I hike an eyebrow at his misplaced stab at flattery. If only he knew that I could be his mother - hell, I might've been, if Frank and I had met earlier than we did. I'm sure I would've fallen all the same for his effortless charisma, a trait he passed on to his son in no small dose. Now, that charm only makes my stomach twist with bitterness and resentment.
"I'm not one of your father's 'lady friends,'" I correct him, my tone turning snide over the words - we both know the connotations of that label. It infuriates me that it's actually true. "We were strictly colleagues. And if you're trying to butter me up, let me remind you that I'm here to do business. So I won't be doing your bidding just because your father signed my checks, like the rest of these men will."
Jason frowns at my backlash, but only a moment later his face takes on a wounded and apologetic look. It reminds me of a puppy realizing it disobeyed its owner.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he says, furrowing his brow and looking down. He seems distracted all of a sudden. "And... I hope these guys don't do that. I can't make my dad proud if nobody's helping me do things the right way."
His vulnerability surprises me. I'm rendered speechless - a first. Before I can gather my thoughts, Frank's lawyer gets everyone's attention from the front of the room.
"If that's everyone, we can go ahead and begin," Don says, standing. He makes eye contact with all persons in the room before settling on Jason. "Jason, son, are you ready?"
Everyone's eyes land on the future of the company.
"Uh, yeah, I'm ready," Jason replies, squinting in uncertainty like we're all the sun shining too brightly in his eyes.
He nods to me, politely excusing himself from our exchange, before walking away like a robot impersonating a tough guy. I watch him as he takes his seat at the head of the table and swivels around like a mafia don.
As he sits Don covertly slips him a sealed envelope and murmurs something in his ear. He pulls his eyebrows together, confused at first, before tucking the envelope out of sight. I think I'm the only one who notices this brush pass, since I'm staring at Jason.
"Let's start this meeting by extending our deepest sympathies to Jason for the tragic loss of his father," Don prefaces, clasping his hands on the gleaming mahogany tabletop, "and assuring him that this congregation serves to guide him through his father's lasting wishes, and ensure that they are carried out thoroughly." He pauses, then slides a stack of papers to his right. "The last will and testament of Frank McCann has been notarized in the court of probate and I have been appointed as its executor. He wished for it to be reviewed one month after his passing by the Board, with his son in attendance, for the purpose of transparency. Let us begin."
The shuffling of papers fills the silence - that is, until a low, hearty chuckle comes from the middle of the table.
"Frank didn't leave anything out, did he?" remarks a balding fifty-something who looks like he screws his secretaries, scanning the fine print and numerous pages.
Don offers a smile that doesn't touch his eyes. But his response is light: "He just wanted to make sure everyone and everything was taken care of. Jason has his graduation to get to, so we won't sit here and go through every word. Wouldn't want these pieces of paper stopping him from getting another, right?" More chuckles break up the quiet. That's classic Don, injecting his fuddy-duddy humor into every situation. I should know, after hashing out custody arrangements with him and Frank way back when.
"Instead, I'd like to direct your attention to the fourth page," the lawyer continues. "The standards for members of the board has been included as a protocol. As you know, it's how Frank liked to start every meeting. Jason, would you mind reading them?"
Jason glances up in surprise. He twists a Rubik's Cube that seems to have appeared from nowhere in his hands like a stress ball. He's anxious - it must be hard for him to trust us.
"Um, sure," he says, sitting forward. "But if you're anything like me, reading over all my dad's rules will just make you wanna break them." His playboy joke elicits small chuckles from the men. A smile even breaks across Don's face. "Let me call to order a meeting of the board of directors, in attendance..."
I roll my eyes. If this is what I'm forced to endure during this meeting, and if this is who I'm forced to leave my kids with, I might as well just kill myself now.
Almost as soon as my annoyance flares, though, I rethink it. There's something about Jason, as I watch him speak, that forces me to listen. Sure, he has some overactive-kid tics, like his shaky leg, his tendency to absentmindedly hitch up his shirt, and losing focus mid-sentence. He's got jokes that anyone with a normal sense of humor would find funny, or at least cute. He's likely aware of his privilege and doesn't see the point of hiding it from people who are aware of it, either.
But I shouldn't hate the boy. His dad just died, and now he's about to have his brother and sister to worry about. I honestly thought Frank would be able to take the children - Jazmyn and Jaxon. If they weren't my everything, I'd scorn their names. Evidence of his legacy, but no true value - they start with J and are close to his son's, Jason. The only difference between him and my kids is a twisted legitimacy. They're all Frank McCann's children. I just wasn't his wife.
Frank and I met seven years ago when he started a training project with the Pacific Coast Guard. I was part of the team recruited to train with his new line of weapons, so of course we worked with each other closely. He would visit the base in Alameda every day, dedicated to his project and always honored to be working with men and women in service. I never meant to build anything but a professional relationship with him, but isn't that how these stories always start?
He made it so easy. He was built like the man of my dreams. He was brilliant, beguiling, and benevolent, all while maintaining his reputation as a boss and businessman. I fawned over him in secret. Meanwhile, he took notice to how well I was performing. At the time I was trying to impress my commander, and my uniform didn't make me blend in so much that I wasn't attractive. Long story short, we got to know each other well enough to have a child, and two years later, long after his training project wrapped, another one.
Looking back on it, I can't believe how young and stupid I acted - regardless of how young and stupid I was. I felt even stupider when I found out he was married - and already had a son. He only told me because his wife found out, which made me realize where his loyalty lied. Naturally whatever flame we had fizzled out after that. He never fought me about anything, not even the ridiculous amount of money I demanded to provide for my kids, but I was angry and vindictive. I stopped letting him see the children, even when they were old enough to remember him, and asked for him.
We only stayed in contact for Jazzy and Jax's sake. I don't doubt that he loved them, or me. He would've taken them if I needed him to - and right now I do. I should've mentioned that I was deploying to Japan for five years when we spoke two months ago, whether I believed him or not. Or better yet, I should've told him when I first found out two years back.
But his wife had just died. And as much resentment as I had in my heart - at the circumstances, not him; I could never hate him - I still had sympathy. I knew he loved her simply because he went back to her after our fling. And she loved him, because she took him back. When we spoke he was filled with so much sadness and guilt that I couldn't bring it up. And I could've brought it up so many times after that, but after he healed from his wife's death, and his attention turned to his first son, my jealousy and bitterness returned.
Today that jealousy and bitterness is directed at Jason. I hate that I have to sit here and listen to everything his father left him, and only him. Since I wouldn't listen to Frank, I'm sure he saw no reason to include Jazmyn and Jaxon in his will - a statement to spite me through them. I don't have any other family to take care of them. I have no choice but to leave them with their only surviving relative - their brother who got everything they didn't. Just because I was Frank's mistake doesn't mean they have to be.
I'm so swept up in my nostalgia that I miss all the formalities and transitions - some boring business talk about merging and liquidation - and am jolted back to the present when Don finally gets to the good part.
"And now onto Frank's assets, pertaining particularly to the company," he begins, loosening his tie a bit. "I'll go through each provision. Please stop me if you have any questions, comments, or concerns, and the committee will decide if it warrants further discussion."
The room is so silent you'd think everyone is holding their breath. But the tension that brims in the air is palpable - these men are salivating over their prospects.
Don clears his throat. He skims the document. "One. Tessa Anatalia Klein, from this point onward, is a stockholder of McCannics, and is the sole beneficial owner of the testing facility in Riverside."
"Who's Tessa?" a man with a salt-and-pepper beard asks almost immediately.
"A woman Frank made very angry, no doubt," another man in a pinstriped suit chortles, "for him to give her such a large... compensation."
"You mean partial ownership of his property and company," Jason corrects him. He's leaning back in his chair with his fingers laced, again looking like a mafia don, and his tone is nonchalant. "And Tessa is my girlfriend."
"What connection does she have to McCannics?" the salt-and-pepper guy asks, his eyebrows raised.
"Besides putting up with me? She's been working there for months."
"Months?" A dignified dark-skinned man gives a sarcastic laugh - he looks like he can't help it. "Son, we've been working for your father for years."
Jason picks up the Rubik's Cube again, rotating it absentmindedly. He's not even looking at any of the men as he speaks to them. "Yeah, but he didn't leave the testing facility to any of you, so let me know when knowing his favorite color comes in handy. He trusted Tessa for his own reasons."
"Yes, but is she fit to be a trustee of the facility?" the man with the beard presses. "There's a lot of mechanics involved - no pun intended - and in the event that a huge decision must be made - "
"She has more access badges to that place than I do," Jason interrupts, "and she can handle guns bigger than any decision you've ever had to make, Marcus. Next."
His dismissive tone shuts everyone up very quickly. I hike an eyebrow, my interest piqued. So he has a girlfriend, and he gets defensive over her. And she must be capable for Frank to give her something so important.
"The legal title of the property still belongs to McCannics, of course," Don assures the disgruntled men. "Two. McCannics is making a sponsorship deal with Ms. DeAnna Margaret Carmichael and Alderman's Outdoor Club and Gun Range, of which her family are members and her father serves on the Board. In addition to appearing at all company events, representing the company as a spokesperson on gun safety, and maintaining business relations between the company and the club, Ms. Carmichael is being granted a five hundred thousand dollar fund to spend on her own humanitarian projects."
The chatter starts at once.
"Jason, do you know this Deanna Carmichael?" Pinstripe asks, saying the girl's name with foreign distaste.
"I mean, if you haven't heard of her, she must not exist, right?" Jason says, bored.
Pinstripe gives him a flat look. "Just answer the question, Jason."
"Yes, Owen, I know who she is. She's my girlfriend's sister-in-law and one of the sweetest people I know. So don't worry, I know that's more money than you're used to seeing, but she'll use it for a good cause."
"Like what?" the bald guy asks. "What kind of humanitarian projects is that fund intended for?"
"Well, John, if you take the root of the word 'humanitarian,' which is 'humane,' you'll find that it means compassionate, loving - "
"As much as we'd like to hear your interesting explanation," Don interrupts Jason with a pointed look, "it's spelled out on paper. McCannics will partner with the Daniel Klein Foundation, a charity for children affected by depression, anxiety, and suicide, of which Ms. Carmichael is the founder and president."
Don glances up from the page, searching for any protests against this. How can there be, on such a sensitive topic? I notice Jason's somber look as he reads over the words himself. I'm glad he knows when to shut up.
The pause in the room is relieved when the dark-haired woman raises her hand like she's in a classroom. It's a tentative gesture, but she doesn't look shy at all.
"Yes, Audrey?" Don says.
"I have some concerns about this charity," she replies, commanding the room as soon as she speaks. "Mainly that it won't erase the negative public opinion of the company, which is vital if we want it to succeed. McCannics has already had bad publicity. It leases weapons to the government, and private sectors, for goodness sake. And God rest his soul, but Frank was no angel. Philanthropy is not going to cover up the scandal this company faces as of right now."
The look Jason gives her could freeze hell three times over. Supine in his chair, he crosses his legs at the ankles. His trousers ride up a little as he does, revealing bright blue socks. He twists his perfectly solved Rubik's Cube between his fingers - when did he even do that?
There's something intriguing about this kid - I can't help but pay attention. And cut him some slack. Despite what I told him, I don't care about the business aspects of this meeting. I came to finally meet Frank's oldest son and evaluate my children's next few years with him. I can't do that if I keep acting like he owes me some karmic debt.
"What's so scandalous about me running McCannics as well as my father did?" he says.
"If you run this company 'like your father did,' then that will precisely be the problem."
"Really? Then why are you still working for him? For me?"
The woman - Audrey - purses her lips like she just tasted something sour. "I don't work for you - "
"I think you do."
"I'm simply a shareholder of McCannics. Which means I'm concerned about its success and image. You have to think about the PR surrounding corporate sponsorship. People could easily think that a weapons contractor partnering with a charity for mental illnesses is insensitive to gun violence, and encourages dangerous items in the hands of unstable persons."
"You reaching," Jason tells her, pressing his index finger to his temple.
"And if you think... what?" Audrey was clearly on a roll, but she trails off, confused by his response.
"You're trying to relate two things with irrelevant evidence and information. Ir-re-le-vant."
She stares at him for a moment, miffed, before moving on like she just got an annoying piece of gum off her shoe. "I assure you it's not. If you think giving back at a time like this is enough to overshadow all the negativity your father attracted, let me remind you of something. Last year McCannics almost faced a class-action suit for discrimination and sexual harassment of female employees. I put that to rest."
"Oh, is that why you're on the Board?" Jason says, his words biting but his tone as calm as ever. "You became a member in exchange for keeping your mouth shut? That just makes you cheap."
This insult makes everyone in the room shift uncomfortably - but that's because they're men. I, on the other hand, am appalled. I knew it - I knew this little jerk had no respect for women, or anything for that matter! If I was Audrey I'd throttle the punk across the table. But she just skewers him with her gaze, like she can't believe he would accuse her of such a thing.
She insists, "Listen, boy, I did not accept blackmail just to get this position. I earned it just like everyone else - "
"No, I meant cheap because you couldn't even come up with a decent lie," Jason snaps, abandoning his collectedness. He plants his feet on the ground and sits forward like someone just whacked his spine. "It was you that started that rumor and tried to get my dad in trouble for that last year. You know it's ridiculous, and not true. And like I said, my girlfriend works for McCannics. I wouldn't let her step foot in here if she wasn't respected."
"You wouldn't let her?" Audrey scoffs. "My God, you're just like your father."
"My mom had depression and anxiety," he tells her. "I had depression. My girlfriend had anxiety. Danny, Anna's fiancé, who the charity is named after, committed suicide. If being like my father means giving back to an important cause that I care about, then I hope I'm exactly like him." Without hesitating he looks at Don. "Next."
A stunned silence is the only thing left in the aftermath of that exchange. Once again my perception of Jason does a three-sixty. For a moment there I thought I was right all along - that he's a douchebag in the making. But then I remember the way he acted when he greeted Audrey before this meeting. I didn't think that they might have some beef. He wasn't being rude, not then and not now. She's antagonizing him. I don't know why.
After a few minutes, Don clears his throat, hoping to dispel the awkward tension swimming in the air. "Well, now that that's been taken care of, let's move on to the next provision."
"Before we go on, I'd like to point out something." John the Bald traces the rim of his glass of water with his finger and eyes Jason closely. "These are very - peculiar provisions. I find it odd that as stakeholders in a large company like McCannics - who've been working for your father for quite some time, as Patrick mentioned - we knew nothing about these recipients. And these recipients are so closely related to each other, and you. I was under the impression that you were the only beneficiary, Jason."
"What difference does it make who's in the will if these are my dad's dying wishes?" Jason demands. After his spat with Audrey he put his elbows on the table and took to massaging his temples, like he has to meditate his way through the rest of this. But he doesn't miss a beat: "You all think I'm not cut out to run this company, anyway. What's the matter, you think my girlfriend and her sister-in-law are plotting with me to send McCannics down the drain? My dad put them in his will because he wanted them to have help - and so they'd be able to help me. I'm not as stupid and reckless as you think I am, but I can't shoulder this company completely alone. And most of you aren't really here to help me. You all were too scared to make these power moves while my dad was alive, so now that he's gone you're trying to take advantage of that. But I've got news for you - I'm his son, and I'm just as crazy he was. So you should be as scared of me as you were of him."
"Are you giving us a reason to think you're unfit?" Audrey asks. Her demeanor is similar to that of an animal about to pounce on its prey. "If that's the case, maybe we should assess your mental and emotional health. You might think we don't want to help you, Jason, but we sincerely care about this company. You seem upset. Maybe it'd be best if you step down from your responsibilities until you've dealt with your father's death."
Jason glares at her and says, thinly, "You're just saying that because your husband wants me dead. But he'd like to have my company first."
"That's ridiculous," she replies calmly, but as a woman who's been scorned, I recognize the way her mouth twitches with a sneer. "And if you're going to throw temper tantrums and attack a member of the Board, you're giving us every reason to reconsider your ability to run McCannics."
I've witnessed ruthless torture in hostage simulations, weapons of mass destruction fired five feet away from me, and bodies dismembered by accidental explosions on the base. Plus, I've had my heart broken. But the chill in the air between Jason and Audrey sends a shiver down my spine. She's clearly antagonizing him. And now I know why.
The other Board members are no better. I don't know which is worse - them catering to his every command, trying to manipulate him once they get in his good graces, or them scraping at every part of Frank's will and legacy until Jason is bare.
I don't know which is worse. But either way I was wrong about more than one thing.
Don straightens up and takes over the room hastily, as if someone just woke him out of a daze. I can see the strain in his expression - he's struggling to do his day job without bias, but Frank evidently gave him the job of protecting Jason. Legally, at least.
"Enough," he scolds, patting his forehead with a handkerchief. "Again, let's move on. The next provision sets up trusts for Jazmyn and Jaxon McCann, which include inheritance, estates, access to information, and any of Frank's other assets, and which they may have control of when they are of age. Until then the management of their trusts is to be handled entirely by Jason."
My heart skips a beat as shock ripples through the room. Frank, a man who, when it came down to it, only cared about himself... he put my son and daughter - our son and daughter - in his will. He gave them everything they'll ever need, just like that.
I don't know why I'm so taken aback. Frank was a lot of things, but spiteful wasn't one of them. I knew how much he loved Jason, and I could've seen him love Jaxon and Jazzy the same way if I'd let him see them. But now's not the time to regret my actions. Because no matter how contemptuous I was to Frank, he would never leave his children with nothing. I could've never loved a man who would do that.
Plus, I can't even be offended by his decision to give Jason control of their trusts and not me. I never wanted or needed his money. And he probably assumed I wouldn't fight Jason on anything, even though I have a right to do so - he knew how embarrassed I was that I was his mistress and not his wife. That shame is stronger than any resentment or vindication I could use to fuel a feud.
Patrick, who obviously finds every part of this funny, smirks in the midst of everyone's surprise. "More beneficiaries? I didn't know Frank had other children."
"Dude, you and me both..." Jason is absolutely dumbfounded. He picks up the will and blinks at it like the words have suddenly converted to another language. After he reads over them again he sets it down slowly, and a pensive but troubled expression crosses his face. He can't believe he has siblings - but even more than that, he can't believe he didn't know about them.
"Well, who's their mother?" Owen wonders, looking around as if he expects her to be sitting in the room.
I hold my breath. Should I speak up? Frank didn't tell Jason about his brother and sister, or me, for a reason. Yet he basically made Jason their caretaker, as if he knew about my plans anyway. That's impossible - right? - but it makes me wonder if he was trying to protect all of us somehow.
I smooth out my expression and decide not to say a word.
"Their mother isn't mentioned," Don says. "That... might be for the best."
"Is it?" a man who hasn't spoken yet says. This subject has sparked everyone's interest. "We don't even know who this woman is - besides one of Frank's indiscretions, I'm guessing - but we're sitting here discussing her children's futures."
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Marcus mutters, snickering behind the rim of his glass as he takes a sip of water. "This just keeps getting better."
They would make a mockery of this - I'm disgusted. But something in my gut is telling me to stay quiet. I hide my clenched fists in my lap.
"Jason, did you really not know you had a brother and sister?" asks a Clark Kent type, suppressing his smirk at Marcus's banter. "And do you know who their mother might be? One of the many women Frank kept company with, perhaps..."
For once, Jason ignores this sideways comment and just shakes his head in response. He's still too stunned, but ruminative, his eyes glued to the paper. He looks so hurt and confused that a motherly urge to comfort him overwhelms me - for just a moment.
"I can't imagine why Frank would hide this from you," John says. "Regardless, it brings up an important issue. All this time you've been thinking you're an only child. Now your father has given a brother and sister you didn't even know about everything you have. They have just as much right to his assets as you do. Sounds to me like a sibling rivalry waiting to happen."
This pulls Jason out of his slump, and he delivers a withering look. "Nice try, but it says they can't get to their trusts until they're of age. And my dad put me in charge of them. Which means that they're too young to make any decisions."
"Which is why I mentioned the mother." The guy who spoke first taps his pen pointedly. "How do we know she doesn't want a say in all this? They're her children, and I'm sure she doesn't appreciate you handling their trusts. You obviously don't know her, but she knows you as the son who got everything belonging to Frank. In other words, she probably hates you."
Wow, he must've been in my head at the beginning of this meeting.
"She might come forward and fight you on this, claim that she has a right to things," Marcus adds. "And if she can't find one she might influence the kids. We don't know how exactly young they are. In any case this could become a headache. I suggest you appoint an executor. At times like this you need someone who can make decisions with your best interests at heart - and your father's wishes in mind. Someone like myself - "
"Yeah, I don't think so," Jason says, looking at both men like they make him tired. "Dad put me in charge of my little brother and sister's trusts to protect them - and their mom. If he'd given her control of their trusts, you guys would be arguing about how illegitimate that is. And you'd attack her for just trying to do the right thing - like you're attacking me right now. I need all of you to get something straight. This is my money, my company, and my family - so when it comes down to it, I have the final say on what goes down. Especially in private matters."
"Well. That's a lot of decisions to make, on top of running the company," John observes curtly.
"Nothing I can't handle, John." Jason serves it right back.
"I beg to differ." Audrey's cool voice cuts across the table. There's something animalistic about her prowess - precise, stealthy, and opportunistic. "I think it's safe to say that we're all surprised by Frank's will. Jason included. It turns out he isn't the sole heir after all, and his younger siblings' security depends on how well McCannics performs. So does ours, honestly. I think that we should evaluate the distribution of funds in the will and determine if they're the best choice. The company would also benefit from an evaluation of Jason. He's clearly too upset and emotional to make any rational decisions. And, forgive me, but maybe Frank was too generous with his inheritance - considering how irresponsible Jason has been acting today."
"Let me remind you that behavior cannot prevent an heir from receiving what is left to them," Don warns. "Which means that whatever grievances you have against Jason's personal choices have nothing to do with the validation of Frank's will. This company belongs to Jason."
"Yes, we get it," Clark Kent grumbles. "All hail the new Mr. McCann."
"Call me Jason. Mr. McCann is my - " Jason starts what sounded like a smartass comeback, but despair darkens his expression and cuts him short. He clenches his jaw.
"Just... don't call me that," he murmurs.
My heart squeezes involuntarily. I recognize that line. Frank used to correct people on the base all the time when they addressed him too formally. Please, call me Frank. Mr. McCann is my asshole of a father.
Jason just realized he can't say that anymore. Not without it hurting.
Audrey watches this with an odd satisfaction, like she's just witnessed poetic justice. "I'm aware of that, Don, but shareholders have the right to deem the head of the company unfit if we have valid reason. We're the only ones who can make any sound decisions here."
"I understand that, Audrey, but please - let's finish going through the will. This is the last of it." Don doesn't even try to hide his exasperation as he puts his glasses back on and continues reading the document. "The last provision is... oh." He pauses and examines it more closely. "My apologies. The last provision is simply a sanction of Frank's marriage to Deanna Carmichael before his death, naming her a primary trustee and executor, followed by their signatures that finalize the will."
Even I can't hide my surprise - but I'm just as impressed.
Frank McCann, that clever son of a bitch! He saved the best part for last. Maybe I catch this so fast because I've actually been listening to everything, watching Jason, rather than focusing on tearing down the wall he put up. I saw the way he reacted when Don mentioned her name. He obviously believes in her. So Frank put her in a position to help him.
The men in the room don't see it this way, though. The shock and anger on their faces is almost hysterical - and their uproar begins instantly.
"Frank was married?" Owen spews out, flabbergasted.
"I mean, if you didn't hear about it, it must not exist, right?" Jason replies with a sly smile.
"You knew about this?" Marcus demands. "I thought you said this Deanna girl was married to that Daniel boy, and has all the money she needs for charity work - "
"Actually, no, I didn't know about this. And I said fiancé - Danny died before he and Anna were married. That just goes to show how much you've been listening."
"Well, I've been listening just fine," John says with a red face. He is really worked up about this. "And what I'm hearing is that Frank so conveniently decided to marry the woman in charge of the company's new charity. As if he didn't give her enough power! I wonder which strategic move he made first."
"You make it sound like he was playing a chess game," I speak up, my voice acting of its own volition. John, and everyone else for that matter, turns to look at me as if I'm a vending machine that just came to life. "Maybe he just ended up mixing business with pleasure."
"This isn't a romance novel." Audrey doesn't even look at me - her steely gaze is entirely on Jason. "And you shouldn't glorify such a mistake."
"Like you aren't guilty. Here you are, acting as your husband's mouthpiece."
"Excuse me?" Now she whirls on me, taken aback by my audacity.
I sit forward. Once I get started, I can't stop. "The kid accused your husband of trying to steal his company and kill him. Who says something like that - "
"A boy who is clearly grieving from his loss," a pretentious guy with glasses says through his teeth, "and who is clearly in no position to make any rational decisions. Mrs. di Angelo is right."
"I'm not the only one calling the shots now," Jason points out, holding up his Rubik's Cube like a scepter. "There's a Mrs. McCann in the picture."
"We knew nothing about his marriage!" Patrick protests. "Or his other children. These matters affect the future of McCannics, yet we're just hearing about them today. Hiding things from the Board is deceitful."
"Would you like to take that up with Frank at his grave?" I scoff at him, and everyone. "Honestly, stop punishing Jason for all the choices his father made. Would you be fighting him like this if his mother was here? Of course not. Because you know Frank would never leave his company in the hands of someone he didn't trust."
Jason shoots me a grateful look across the table, but my nod to him is lost in the Board's stubborn pursuits.
"Forgive me for not trusting a woman Frank married on a whim," Clark Kent says. "This is a man who swore he'd never love a woman again after his wife passed. It all sounds very suspicious."
These idiots! Frank didn't marry this woman for love, he married her to protect Jason! It's like they didn't know him at all.
"I say we investigate it immediately," Audrey announces. "Call this woman here to evaluate her and discuss - "
"Actually, Ms. Carmichael - excuse me, Mrs. McCann - doesn't have to discuss anything with you," Don says plainly. "Simply because of spousal privilege. Whatever was discussed during their marriage, including the composition of this will, is protected from testimonial disclosure. That includes any investigation you want to open."
I know Don is just doing his job, but I sense that he's enjoying carrying out Frank's last power moves.
"Well - why wasn't she here for this reading?" Audrey demands, flicking her eyes to the others nervously, a desperate call for backup. She's running out of options.
"She doesn't have to be here. Everything is in writing, and her signature confirms all these provisions. She was also a witness to the will. As the spouse of the decedent, she has the final say in all these statutes. In fact - she has as much control as Jason does."
"Well, I'm down for that," Jason concludes, lacing his fingers behind his head. "My girlfriend owns the testing facility and has some serious bank in stocks, and my dad's wife runs a company charity and can fire all of you right now if she wanted to. Better start calling yourselves feminists, boys."
He's so smug, and I can't hate him for it. I don't regret hating him when I first saw him, either - because I wouldn't be as sure as I am now that he's not who I thought he was. It takes a lot to impress me. It takes a lot to make me defend someone. And it takes a lot to convince me someone can take care of my children as well as I can.
Physically, Jason McCann is a slip of a thing, but there's more to him than a swathe of bronze hair slicked back from his forehead and a face pretty enough to hold his generation's hopes and dreams closely against.
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