1 At the welcome-home dinner for Sloane’s childhood friend, someone suggested a game of “Confession Box.” Sloane lost. Her penalty was to admit to one thing she’d done that made her feel guilty. She glanced at me, then began to speak—not in English, but in fluid, rhythmic French. “Truth is, six months ago, I didn’t fly to London to see my best friend. I went to Paris to take care of Harrison because he was going through a rough patch and drinking himself into a hole.” I froze. The warmth in my eyes died instantly. Seeing that I didn’t react, she continued in French, her tone airy and dismissive. “I was supposed to fly back the next day, but Harrison told me he couldn’t stand to see me go. I’m a sucker for him. I stayed a whole week.” A sharp, cold tremor ran through my chest. So, the “girls’ trip” she’d raved about for a week was a lie. She’d been in a Parisian hotel with Harrison Pierce. Harrison sat beside her, a smug grin playing on his lips as he replied in the same tongue. “Aren’t you afraid Grant will find out if you say it out loud?” Sloane rolled her eyes, her expression thick with indifference. “Please. He’s a local townie. He barely passed high school English; he doesn’t know a word of French.” My “best friend,” Ben, chimed in, offering his own brand of betrayal in French. “Yeah, he’s from the sticks. He didn’t go to a prep school like us. I’ve been teaching myself for a few years, so I caught that. Don’t worry, Sloane—even if he suspects something, I’ll cover for you guys.” I stared at Ben, the shock vibrating in my marrow. I couldn’t believe he was part of this. Around the table, the others smothered their laughter, watching me as if I were a circus animal performing for their amusement. They all thought I was deaf to their insults. What they didn’t know was that I had spent three years in Lyon. I didn’t just understand French; I held a permanent residency permit. But I didn’t snap. I didn’t break down. Instead, I calmly pulled out my phone and sent a single text. Dad, I’m ready. I’ll go through with the merger. I’m coming home to take over the company. The atmosphere in the private dining room turned icy. All eyes were on me. Some looked at me with pity. Others with mockery. Sloane, noticing my grim expression, let out a dry laugh. “Alright, everyone, I’ll stop being mysterious. There’s no big secret.” She turned to me, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Grant gets in his head so easily. Let’s not tease him; he can’t handle it.” Harrison let out a performative ‘Oh.’ “So Grant’s the jealous type? Well, I guess I’ll keep Sloane’s little ‘secret’ to myself then!” Ben was quick to back him up. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. Sloane and Harrison grew up together. They’ve known each other longer than they’ve known how to read. I’m sure Grant is man enough to accept that kind of bond.” The rest of the table watched me with strange, hungry eyes. They were emboldened by the language barrier, whispering little secrets in French as if I weren’t even there. Even my best friend was reveling in the deception. Sloane started chirping again in French, “Harrison is so much more attentive than Grant. My back was killing me that week in Paris, and he massaged it every single night.” The table erupted in suggestive hoots and whistles. A surge of white-hot rage boiled in my gut. I couldn’t take another second of it. My hand, which had been resting on my wine glass, tightened until my knuckles turned white. Slam! I smashed the glass onto the mahogany table. The silence that followed was deafening. The laughter died in their throats. Before I could even speak, Sloane’s sharp voice cut through the air. “What the hell is wrong with you, Grant? What kind of tantrum is this?” I stared her down, my voice low and dangerous. “What are you guys talking about? Is there something going on between you and Harrison that I should know about?” Sloane knitted her brows, her face a mask of practiced irritation. “You know exactly what he is to me. Are you really going to start this again? Are you really that insecure?” Ben jumped in, his voice patronizing. “Man, don’t be so small-minded. They’re practically family. Whatever they do is innocent by default.” I was shaking, my teeth gritted so hard my jaw ached. “Insecure? If I’m just imagining things, then why don’t you translate exactly what you all were just saying?” The table went silent. The air grew thick and stagnant. Harrison tried to de-escalate with a greasy smile. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. We were just reminiscing about old times. If those memories bother you that much, Grant, just think of me as Sloane’s ‘sister.’ We’re that close.” I looked at his punchable face and glared. “Sister? That’s funny. I didn’t realize sisters carried XY chromosomes.” Harrison hadn’t expected me to bite back. His face went pale. To defend her ‘sister,’ Sloane stood up abruptly and swung. The slap echoed through the room. “Enough!” she screamed. “Harrison hasn’t said a single thing wrong! My relationship with him is what it is. You have no right to interrogate him!” My cheek burned, and I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Sloane didn’t even flinch. She didn’t look at me with an ounce of regret. She grabbed her purse, pulled Harrison up by his arm, and headed for the door. “You’re such a buzzkill. You ruined his welcome dinner for nothing. Come on, everyone, we’re going to a lounge. Let’s leave him to his temper tantrum.” The group filtered out of the room. As Ben passed me, he gave me a ‘sympathetic’ pat on the shoulder. “Sloane and Harrison are a package deal, man. You’re just hurting yourself being this petty.” When the door clicked shut, the silence of the massive room swallowed me whole. My hand was still gripping the shards of the broken glass. I didn’t even realize my palm was bleeding until the red stained the white tablecloth. I didn’t go home. I went to a dive bar on the edge of town. I ordered the strongest bourbon they had and downed it in one go. As the alcohol burned its way down, the memories started to flood back. When Sloane and I first started dating, Harrison was still studying abroad. She had been upfront about him being her “most important person.” They grew up in the same wealthy suburb, went to the same private schools, and studied French together in college. Then Harrison’s family made a fortune in tech, moved to a gated community, and sent him off to Europe. Back then, their contact seemed harmless. Checking in, wishing each other well. Nothing over the line. Even Ben had been a loyal friend to me back then. I never imagined that Harrison’s return would reveal such a grotesque betrayal. A week in Paris. I didn’t want to think about what they did. I couldn’t think about it. And Ben… the man I called my brother… he had been their lookout. The pain in my chest was suffocating, a dull, throbbing ache that eventually turned into a cold numbness. I was halfway through my third glass when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ben. It was a photo of Harrison slumped in Sloane’s lap at the lounge, her fingers running through his hair. Then came the follow-up: Harrison’s trashed. Come pick us up and drive us home. I flipped the phone face down on the bar and laughed a dry, hollow laugh. Even now, they saw me as nothing more than an unpaid Uber driver. I called a car and went home. When I walked through the door, I found all three of them in the living room. Harrison was passed out on the sofa, mumbling nonsense. Sloane was beside him, tenderly wiping his forehead with a cool cloth. I had never seen her look at me with that kind of softness. Not once. She looked up, her face instantly hardening. “Why didn’t you come get us? I texted you an hour ago.” I walked in, a sarcastic smirk on my face. “You wanted me to drive drunk? Is that the plan?” Sloane sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “You went out drinking? Who gave you permission to do that?” I ignored her and headed for the bedroom. “Wait,” she called out. “Help Ben get Harrison into the bedroom.” “The bedroom?” I stopped. Sloane spoke as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Yes. He’s too drunk to go back to his place. He’s staying here tonight.” I frowned. “If he’s staying, he can sleep on the sofa.” Sloane’s face contorted with anger. “Harrison is a Pierce. He’s used to luxury. He can’t sleep on a cheap couch.” Ben chimed in from the corner. “Yeah, Grant. Not everyone is as ‘hardy’ and ‘rugged’ as you are. Don’t be a dick.” Their tag-team insults made my blood run cold. I didn’t have the energy left to fight. I helped Ben haul Harrison’s limp body into our bedroom and dumped him onto the mattress. My head was spinning from the bourbon. I just wanted to crash. But before I could even sit down on the edge of the bed, Sloane shoved me toward the door. “Out. I’m staying here to keep an eye on him. Go sleep on the sofa.” I stared at her, genuinely shocked. “You’re sleeping in our bed with him? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how this looks?” Sloane’s eyes flared with impatience. “So what? Harrison and I have been through everything together. He’s the most important person in my life. It’s just sleep. Grow up.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “Besides, his family is elite. If I let him get sick or leave him unattended, do you have any idea what that could do to my social standing? Now, get out.” I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat. There was nothing left to say. Sloane didn’t wait. She grabbed my arm and shoved me into the hallway. Slam. The door shut, locking me out of my own life. I stood there for a long time, my fists clenched at my sides. Ben walked toward the front door to leave, pausing to give me a mocking grin. “Don’t just stand there, buddy. You’ll wake them up.” I stood in the dark hallway for thirty minutes. It wasn’t until I heard the muffled sound of giggling and playful splashing from the master bath that I finally moved. I walked into the kitchen, picked up my phone, and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Dad,” I said, my voice steady. “Set up the meeting with the Montgomerys tomorrow. I’m ready for the merger.”
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