Silva and the Stars

4 | are you coming?

Over the next week, Rachel and I settle into a routine. During the day we research potential loopholes in the company contract that would invalidate Connor's shares. Some way that we can wrestle majority ownership back without needing to be married.

Being married is a band-aid solution.

But as we spend countless hours in the library reading, I notice that Rachel's frustration is mounting with each fruitless effort.

"What about this?" Rachel asks me, standing up and bringing around a book to my side of the table. "I read over this before and dismissed it, but I wanted to confirm with you."

I read through the passage, as Rachel stands next to me, her frangipani and vanilla bean scent tickling my senses.

This passage states that any decisions could be retracted if the decision-maker was not mentally fit.

I clear my throat and my voice is slightly hoarse when I reply, "It doesn't apply."

I can feel Rachel study me for a beat longer before she moves back to her side of the desk.

I glance up to see her looking reluctant to sit back down.

"Our fathers really did a number on us, didn't they?" I start conversationally.

"Leaving us with this mess, yes."

"No, I meant, on us." I motion with my finger at her and me.

Rachel grips the back of her chair. "Speak for yourself."

"Are you seriously defending them? Your father was a tyrant at the best of times... and mine was a selfish asshole. Yet even in death, we're still trying to maintain a hold on them, keep their approval, by keeping the company they didn't have enough foresight to give to us."

She bites her lip before laughter spills out of her. "I know, they messed us up outstandingly. I don't think they could have done it better if they'd tried."

The stress must be getting to her if she's laughing and agreeing with me.

Only a week ago, we were still fighting like bitter rivals. I remember that first conversation back, right after our father's funeral, when Rachel showed me the mess our father's made.

***

All the evidence was spread out on Rachel's desk. I acknowledged the information with furrowed brows and a stormy countenance.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have come back for this." My anger was a visible beast, shimmering around me, primed to attack.

The betrayal tasted bitter in my mouth. Yes, Rachel and I had been rivals competing for the CEO position when one of our fathers stepped down or died. But if I knew that anything of this kind had happened to Rachel's inheritance, I would have tried to intervene, or at the very least, let her know.

Was that too much to ask for?

"Is this so that you have majority share over me?" The accusation burned through my words, searing the air between us. I was never this unhinged, my bones ached and my head pounded, and the words spilling from my mouth were tainted with bitterness.

I hated that it was Rachel who was watching me unravel. We had stood side by side earlier, watching as they lowered our father's caskets into the ground. She, impassively cool. While I trembled, hot tears spilling down my cheeks, that I had furiously wiped away.

"Please, I only just found out myself," Rachel scoffed, clearly annoyed with my antics.

Yet her aggrieved tone released a tightness in my gut. Her hatred was easy, familiar, comfortable. In a time when everything felt strange and untrue.