Chapter 4 No.4

Arthur didn't wait for them. He turned and walked down the hallway toward the executive suite.

Gloria followed, her heels clicking on the marble. Jones trailed behind like a ghost.

As she passed Arthur to enter his office, she caught the scent of him. Sandalwood and ice. It was intoxicating and terrifying.

Inside, the office was a cavern of glass and steel. Arthur sat behind a desk that was large enough to land a helicopter on.

He didn't invite her to sit.

Jones sat on the edge of the leather couch, looking ready to bolt.

Arthur leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "School supplies."

He wasn't letting it go.

Gloria stood in the middle of the room. "Yes."

"For Gustavo," Arthur added.

"He needs a new backpack," Gloria said.

"Gucci or Prada?" Arthur asked. The sarcasm dripped from his words.

Gloria thought of the absurd luxury items the old Gloria bought for the five-year-old.

"Bulletproof," she replied.

Arthur paused. He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You can never be too safe," Gloria said, keeping her face deadpan. "American schools, you know."

A corner of Arthur's mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile, but it was a reaction. The old Gloria was vapid; she didn't make dark jokes about school safety.

"You were meeting with Vance to discuss the settlement," Arthur said, dropping the pretense. "You thought I was dead."

"I knew you weren't dead," Gloria countered.

"How?"

"Because you're too stubborn to die," she said. "And because I haven't spent all your money yet."

Arthur leaned forward. "So you admit it. You're here for the money."

"That lawyer tried to steal your money, Arthur," she said, stepping closer to the desk. "He tried to trick me into signing away the estate for pennies."

"And you defended my money?" Arthur asked, skeptical.

"It's my money too," she said shamelessly.

Arthur actually smirked. It was a cold, cynical expression, but it was familiar territory. He understood greed. He could work with greed.

"At least you're honest about your parasitism," he muttered.

Gloria checked her watch. She needed to get out of here. Her head was still throbbing, and being in the same room as Arthur felt like standing next to a nuclear reactor.

"I have a headache," she announced. She grabbed her purse from the chair where she had left it.

"We aren't finished," Arthur said.

"I am," she said. "I have to check on Gustavo. The nanny said he's... spirited today."

"Spirited," Arthur repeated. "That's code for 'destroying the west wing'."

"Probably."

She looked at Jones. "Jones, are you coming?"

Jones looked at his dad. He wanted to stay. He wanted to talk to the father he thought was dead.

But Arthur was already pulling a stack of files toward him. He was back in work mode. The emotional reunion was over.

Arthur nodded at Jones without looking up. "Go with her. I have a board meeting in twenty minutes."

Jones's face fell. The rejection was subtle, but it cut deep.

Gloria felt a pang of sympathy. "Come on," she said to Jones, softer this time.

She walked out of the office, her back straight. She could feel Arthur's eyes drilling into her spine until the door clicked shut.

In the hallway, she leaned against the wall and exhaled. Her knees felt like jelly.

Jones followed her out. "Why did you lie?"

Gloria put on her oversized sunglasses, hiding her eyes.

"About the backpack?"

"About everything," Jones said.

Gloria pressed the elevator button. "Because the truth is boring, darling. And your father hates boring."

The elevator doors opened. They stepped inside. Gloria caught her reflection in the mirrored walls. She looked like a woman in control.

Inside, she was screaming.