Copyright February 2014
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Chapter 1
The monotonous sound of the cable news program echoes in my private hospital room. The television acts as my connection to the outside world. The last thing I want to experience right now is silence, so I crank the volume up a couple of notches. Left idle, my thoughts will drift back to the ugly, tragic scene from a couple of hours ago where Simon’s body lay cold, his lifeless eyes staring ahead, judging me. I shake my head, and try to clear the image from my mind as the talking heads drone on and on. I perk up when I hear the name of my asshole father, Xavier Thorpe.
“Xavier Thorpe, and his conglomerate Thorpe Industries, are coming under fire from city officials in Indianapolis. Thorpe Industries closed the Republic Manufacturing plant on Friday with plans to ship production to an overseas facility. The decision left two thousand workers unemployed.
“What a fucking prick,” I mutter under my breath.
Gary Fredrick, the mayor of Indianapolis had this to say, ‘Wall Street may love Thorpe, but he is despised here on Main Street. He's nothing more than an industrial sociopath. Wiping out industries and people's dreams in places like Indiana without even a forethought.’”
An industrial sociopath! That’s a brilliant and perfect definition of Thorpe and his greedy business dealings. He ruins lives to line his own pockets.
The news anchor moves on to the next story and I see my photo flash across the screen. Great. They’re already reporting on Simon’s shooting.
The photo shows me dressed in my Armani tux. The image reflects a man who is at the top of his game, conquering his world. The man of bravado I was such a short time ago. Now I’m sitting by myself in a hospital room, surrounded by my own demons.
“No one from Kings Capital has given an official comment concerning the alleged love triangle between the now-deceased Simon Edwards, his ex-fiancée Marta Llewellyn, and the CEO of Kings Capital, Adam Kingsley.
However, authorities confirm that Edwards, a founding partner and top executive of Kings Capital, was fired last Wednesday. It is also confirmed from hotel security footage that Edwards was the alleged shooter earlier today in the incident in front of The Pierre that injured Adam Kingsley.
One Wall Street analyst, Stuart Cross of IEF Securities, believes Mr. Kingsley’s high profile image and this morning’s shooting will hammer Kings Capital stock. Cross foresees Kings Capital facing big questions from clients and key shareholders. He says, quote, “This event may even affect Adam Kingsley’s ability to continue as head of Kings Capital.”
My world spins as every word spewing from the reporter’s mouth lands accusingly on my shoulders. To the outside world my guilt is automatic, whether it is true or not. The so-called prediction by this analyst hits me like a punch in the gut. This clusterfuck surrounding Simon could infect every part of the company and my leadership.
“Who the hell are these ‘inside sources’?” I hiss through my clenched teeth. Red-hot anger courses through every cell in my body. Anger at myself, anger at Simon, and anger that no one will ever know the truth. There was no love affair between Marta and me. It was a forgettable fuck that I wasn’t aware had morphed into a twisted obsession on her part.
As seething fury causes my body to shake, and I breathe in deeply, calming myself down, an image of Simon flashes in front of me. He’s lying on the sidewalk where he was shot. He’s not dead, though. His are eyes full of life while his mouth twists into a mocking smile of hate. Closing my eyes, I bury my head in my hands, stunned by what has to be my stressed-induced imagination. Upon opening my eyes and clearing my head, the unworldly vision of Simon disappears, but my rage remains.
