Chapter 4 - The Unraveling Contract
"Don't do what to you, Nicholas?" Emmett asked, resting his chin on his hands, his dark eyes fixing onto my brother with cold precision. "Don't let people see how you treat your own family? Or don't ruin the little illusion you built for your new father-in-law?"
Nicholas swallowed hard, his face turning an unsightly shade of crimson. "Mr. Stewart... sir... this is just a personal family matter..."
"It ceased being a personal matter when you publicly insulted my chief strategist at the entrance of this hall," Emmett said, standing up slowly. He adjusted his charcoal suit jacket, towering over Nicholas. "I came here today out of respect for Jenna. She mentioned offhandedly last week that her brother was getting married, and I thought I would attend to show my support for her."
Nicholas’s head whipped toward me, his eyes wide with shock. "You... you invited him?"
"She didn't invite me to impress you," Emmett said coldly. "She didn't even want me to bring a gift because she knew you’d make a spectacle of it. But I see now that my presence here has only given you an excuse to show who you truly are."
Emmett reached into his inner breast pocket, pulled out a fountain pen, and turned to me.
"Jenna, the final shortlist for the Vanguard logistics contract is on my desk in Boston. Your brother’s firm, Apex Logistics, was on it."
Nicholas let out a sharp, ragged breath, hope suddenly flaring in his eyes. "Mr. Stewart! We have the best infrastructure in the Northeast! We can handle—"
"Apex was on it," Emmett interrupted, his voice smooth as ice. "Because your senior analysts submitted a brilliant technical proposal. But Vanguard does not do business with leadership that lacks integrity. A man who treats his own sister like an inconvenient piece of trash at his own wedding cannot be trusted with a fifty-million-dollar operational partnership."
"No..." Victoria gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Nicholas, do something!"
"Jenna! Tell him!" Nicholas panicked, dropping to one knee beside my tiny wooden folding chair, reaching out to grab my hand. "Jenna, tell him we're fine! Tell him I love you! I was just stressed! You know how weddings are! Please, Jenna!"
I looked down at my brother kneeling on the floor beside the kids' table. The same brother who, two hours ago, told me I was "not at that level" and warned me not to even look at Emmett Stewart.
May you like
I slowly pulled my hand out of his grip.
"You told me not to ruin your image, Nicholas," I said, my voice quiet, steady, and entirely devoid of pity. "You made your image. Now you have to live with it."
