The Still CEO: Forged Succession

Chapter 4 - Family

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Donna

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"Tell me it’s not Liviana, Tyson!" I scream as he walks past me, my anger rising at the sight of him, but he just kisses me on the cheek with a casual greeting as if he didn't hear me. "I am talking to you!" I say, and he stops and lets out a sigh before turning to look at me with an exasperated expression.

"What are you talking about, Momma?"

"I'm asking you if you are sleeping with her again. I'm asking if you are cheating on your wife with your brother’s girlfriend," I say, and something flickers in his eyes, answering my question before he can even open his mouth.

"I don't know what you are talking about," he says before asking if he can do what he came to do, which is check on Tony. But I cut him off, telling him that Laurel knows he’s cheating on her. I tell him that she's distraught because of what he’s doing, but he interjects, saying she’s paranoid. I shake my head, saying that’s not true. I can see in his eyes that she’s not paranoid. I tell him that, and he says we are both paranoid then, before turning around and walking away.

"Do you want to tear this family apart? Is that what you want to do? Because you know what you are doing will. Do you want to lose your wife? Do you want her to leave you because that’s what will happen when she finds out that you are sleeping with her cousin?"

"Good," he says and my heart ceases in my chest.

"What? How could you say that!"

"Oh, please, Mother, don’t act so surprised. You know how I've always felt about this damn marriage! If Laurel’s had enough, maybe she should leave. I won’t stop her."

"Tyson, she’s your wife."

"A wife I never wanted!"

"And your brother? What about him? Don’t you care about how this will hurt him?"

"I don’t want to do this with you, Mom. I don’t have time for it. I came here to check on Dad; now can you please let me do that?" he says and turns around and walks away, leaving me standing there, and I stumble backward, suddenly dizzy.

"What is happening to my family?"

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.........

Kyra

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"No, I feel like having fish tonight," I mutter to myself, a sudden craving for something light and savory taking over my senses despite my earlier decision.

Opening the fridge door, I scan its contents until I find what I need, and I grab the fresh salmon filet and vegetables. As I preheat the oven, I gather the rest of my ingredients and make my way to the counter. I grab the baking sheet and quickly line it with parchment paper. But just as I'm about to reach for the olive oil and drizzle it over the salmon, the shrill ringtone of my phone pierces the air.

I place the bottle of oil down and rush to where my phone lies, wondering who it is before seeing the screen displaying Jude's name. Jude Livingston is my boss.

My eyebrows knit together in surprise as I swipe to answer the call. He tells me he needs a favor, and I ask him what it is. He says a package was delivered to his place this afternoon—a machine—and he needs the serial number of the machine.

I'm a bit lost because I’m not sure how to help him since I'm in LA. Did he forget? I begin to speak, about to remind him of that, but he speaks first, telling me the house address and I realize the place he’s sending me to is here.

He says he will text it to me as well including the combination for the entrance. He also tells me the house is not too far from where I'm staying. I tell him I will go to the place, and he thanks me and tells me to call him when I get there.

We end the call after that, and I decide to turn off the oven and finish cooking when I return since I don’t know how urgently he needs this serial number. I quickly head out to let my mother know where I’m going, and she offers to finish cooking, but I tell her I won’t take long and will finish when I return.

As I step out of the house, my phone vibrates in my hand, drawing my attention. I glance at the screen and see Jude's name along with a text message containing an address and a combination code.

With a slight sigh, I slide into the driver's seat and let the engine purr to life as I navigate through the bustling streets toward his place. The road stretches ahead of me, teeming with traffic that's moving at a frustratingly slow pace and I realize that reaching Jude's house might take longer than I initially anticipated.

My fingers tap impatiently on the steering wheel as I navigate through the congestion, and after what feels like an eternity, I finally arrive at the upscale estate.

Pulling up to the security gate, I notice a line of cars in the visitor’s lane. The drivers in front of me hand over their identification to the guards before being allowed through. Taking the cue, I retrieve my own ID and hold it out when it's my turn.

But to my surprise, the guard only glances at my ID briefly before looking back up at me with a knowing nod in his expression. He seems to recognize me, or at least he's acting like he does.

Without any further inquiry, he simply waves me through as though I'm expected. Jude must have informed the guards about my visit. I thank him and follow the directions I've been given, winding my way through the meticulously landscaped streets of the estate.

As I drive, I can't help but be captivated by the sheer beauty that surrounds me. Every detail exudes opulence, from the well-manicured lawns to the impressive architecture of the houses. The air seems to carry an unmistakable scent of affluence, and it dawns on me that everyone living here must indeed be well-off.

One day, Kay and I will move into a place like this, and we won’t be renting either. I think to myself, smiling at the thought. I’ve been saving money to start my own business.

I want to start an Event Planning and Entertainment company where I don’t just specialize in organizing parties, corporate events, weddings, and other gatherings. But offer entertainment packages that include dance performances or lessons. With the lessons, I also want to offer Dance Therapy or Wellness. I want to create a space where my clients can explore the therapeutic aspect of dance by offering dance therapy sessions or wellness workshops that focus on stress relief, emotional expression, and personal growth through movement. Dancing is my life. It’s what I love and know, and it’s very therapeutic for me.

I come to a halt in front of the house but frown in confusion at the sight of a car parked in the driveway. I thought the place was empty. I pull out my phone, checking the address once again to confirm that I'm indeed at the right location. The digits on the screen match the ones Jude sent me, leaving me baffled by the presence of the car. "Maybe he left the car in the driveway," I convince myself.

I step out of my vehicle, the door thudding shut behind me as I scan my surroundings and I briskly make my way to the front door. With the combination code etched clearly in my memory, my fingers dance over the keypad as I punch in the numbers. With a soft beep, the lock disengages, and I push the door open, crossing the threshold with caution.

Inside, the space is as luxurious as I had imagined—elegant furniture, tasteful decor, and an air of sophistication that permeates every inch. I remind myself to stay focused as I tread carefully through the entrance hall, absorbing the grandeur surrounding me.

Jude had mentioned the package would be in the upstairs living area, so I head toward the staircase. The house seems even bigger from this vantage point, and I catch myself stealing glances downward at the expansive lower level, where a second living area sprawls out, immaculately furnished.

I proceed down the hallway when I reach the top of the stairs, but just then the sound of soft sobs reaches my ears, and I stop. I glance in the direction of the sobs, telling myself my ears must be playing tricks on me, but it soon becomes clear that they are not as the sobs get louder and louder.

"Hello." My voice comes out softer than intended as I take cautious steps in the direction of the sound and the sobs halt abruptly at the mere sound of my voice. I swallow hard, my senses sharpening as I prepare to face whatever awaits.

"Hello," I repeat, my tone more reassuring this time, as I step forward. Just then, someone emerges, and my eyes widen in astonishment. It's Jude's sister. I only saw her once at a special event in the club, but her features are unmistakable. She has Jude’s eyes. My mind struggles to retrieve her name, while her expression mirrors a mixture of surprise and apprehension as if she wasn't expecting me.

"I'm Kyra," I quickly say to ease her spooked expression. "Jude sent me to check on a package that has a serial number he needs," I add, noticing the subtle relaxation of her features as I explain my presence here. I also don’t miss the traces of recent tears and the reddened eyes that bear witness to the sobs that had echoed moments before. She moves towards a small table, and my gaze follows her as she points to a package lying there.

"Yes, that's it," I reply, stepping up to the table and I open the package before taking out my phone. She asks if I'm going to call Jude, and I nod, explaining that he asked me to call him when I get to the package. She nods before saying something that takes me by surprise.

She says I mustn't tell her brother she’s here or what I walked in on, and even though she doesn’t spell it out, I know she’s talking about the crying. I nod and dial Jude’s number. I give him the numbers, and he thanks me and asks me to wait just a moment for him to relay them to the person who’s looking for them, in case he needs something else.

I do, and I guess the phone is loud because when I end the call, his sister offers me a seat. I sit down, and she asks if she could get me anything, to which I decline.

"I’m Laurel, Jude’s sister," she introduces herself, and I introduce myself back. I add that I have seen her before and tell her where, and she confirms that indeed she was there and apologizes that she doesn’t recognize me. I tell her it’s okay.

Just then, my phone rings again, and it’s Jude. He thanks me again and tells me that I can go. I bid his sister a good evening and head out after that. But just as I exit, she calls me, causing me to turn around.

She reminds me not to tell her brother about what I saw, and I nod, saying I won’t. Questions flood my brain as I skip down the staircase, wondering why she is hiding the fact that she is upset to her brother. I also didn’t miss the wedding band, and it makes me wonder if she’s having marriage problems. As I exit the door, I remind myself that it is none of my business and slide inside my car, pushing it out of my mind.

I start my engine and reverse out of the parking lot, my mind drifting back to my mother. Back where we lived, my friend and I worked interchanging shifts, and she would check in on my mother when I would be working the night shift. Here, I don’t have that. I will have to leave her alone, and it's worrying me, but I don’t see any other options.

My foot presses down on the accelerator after making a turn, now heading toward the gate, still lost in my thoughts. But just as I begin to pick up speed, a blur of movement catches my eye, and before I can react, a dog darts out from nowhere and leaps onto the road right in front of my car.

My eyes slam shut involuntarily, a scream escaping my lips as I instinctively slam on the brakes. The screeching of tires and the dog's cries combine into a discordant symphony that cuts through the air, punctuating the terrifying moment. My eyes fly open to see a man in jogging attire running toward the car.

"Oh, God, no, please," I whisper, my voice trembling. I hastily exit the car, my heart pounding in my chest, and adrenaline courses through my veins as I step towards the scene, my breath coming in uneven gasps. The man kneels next to the dog, checking on it while trying to comfort it and I kneel next to him, my voice quivering as I ask if the dog is okay, a bit of relief flooding my senses at the absence of blood. My apologies rush out as I begin to explain that I didn’t see the dog before the man can even respond to my first question.

"I... I didn't see the dog, I swear." I stammer, my words a jumble of remorse and anxiety. But my attempt at an apology is abruptly cut off as the man's voice pierces through the tense atmosphere, his tone sharp and bitter.

"You would have seen him if you'd been within the speed limit," he says, his gaze momentarily leaving the dog and locking with mine. My mouth opens to apologize once more, but before I can utter a word, he offers an apology of his own. He says he’s sorry for snapping at me; he knows I didn’t see the dog. As he cradles the injured dog in his arms, he reassures me, saying, "It's okay; don't worry. He'll be fine."

I offer to pay for the dog's medical bills, my words tumbling out, fueled by guilt and a desire to make amends, even though I know I can't afford it. But the man declines my offer and turns away, jogging back in the direction he came from, the injured dog cradled in his arms.

I stand there watching him as he disappears around the corner, shaken and I glance down at my hands to find them shaking.