That neither are mine—they will never be mine.
They belong to him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and the name Jameson lights up the screen. “Hey,” I answer.
“You all right?”
“I’m fine, Jay.” I sigh.
“Elliot and Christopher are on their way.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Hmm . . . I kind of think it is.”
I stay silent.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“In a bar.”
“Alone?”
“Yep.” I roll my eyes and catch sight of myself in the mirror behind the bar.
I see him, the man whom the world sees, the heartless takeover king in the expensive suit.
The one who’s dead inside.
This time, they’re right . . . I am.
“I got to go.” I sigh.
“Promise me you’re all right.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m fine,” I reply as I hang up. But I don’t know if I’m fine. I don’t even know what I am anymore, who I am . . . I frown and sip my drink.
This is an emptiness that I don’t know how to fight.
The waiter wipes the bar. “Another one?” he asks.
“Yes.” I nod once. “Keep them coming.”
; I read down the list of unopened emails, and I frown.
Anderson Media.
She emailed me from her work account. I click the email open.
Dear Mr. Miles,
I have fought all I can, I have nothing left to give. With no financial relief in sight,
I would like to accept your offer to acquire Anderson Media.
I would like assurance that all staff will keep their positions within the company or offered alternative employment.