Chapter 8 - THE INVITATIONThe truth about the invitation came from Evelyn Hart, director of the Seabrook Foundation.
Maris met her for coffee.
“You knew?”
Evelyn looked guilty.
“That Mr. Ellington requested your invitation?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you to hide it?”
“No.”
“He told me you would probably refuse if the invitation came personally.”
“Accurate.”
“He also said the program aligned with your work.”
“That was strategic.”
“Yes.”
Maris almost appreciated the honesty.
Evelyn continued:
“He did not ask me to pressure you.”
“Good.”
“He asked me to give you enough information to choose.”
Maris thought.
“That sounds annoyingly reasonable.”
“He has been trying to become annoyingly reasonable.”
Maris looked at her.
“You like him.”
“I respect him.”
“That’s safer.”
Evelyn smiled.
Then Maris asked:
“Did Genevieve know who I was?”
“No.”
“Julian?”
“Yes.”
Maris’s expression changed.
“How?”
“He reviewed the guest list.”
“Why?”
“He chairs the event committee.”
Of course.
Maris looked out the window.
“So Julian knew.”
“Yes.”
“And said nothing.”
“I assumed he expected Mr. Ellington to handle it.”
Maris laughed without humor.
“Everyone in this family expects someone else to handle discomfort.”
She paid and left.
That afternoon she called Julian.
He answered quickly.
“Maris.”
“You knew.”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Would you have wanted me to announce your identity?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Don’t be clever.”
He sighed.
“I didn’t know Genevieve would do that.”
“But you saw her corner me.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I hesitated.”
“Why?”
Julian said nothing.
Maris understood before he admitted it.
“Because you wanted to see what August would do.”
His silence was confirmation.
She closed her eyes.
“You used me.”
“No.”
“You watched me become a test.”
“That wasn’t—”
“Wasn’t your intention?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Intent is popular in this family.”
Julian’s voice hardened.
“You disappeared for eight years.”
Maris froze.
“There it is.”
“You left him.”
“He told me not to come back.”
“He regretted it immediately.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“Did he call me?”
“No.”
“Then his regret was private. How useful.”
Julian sighed.
“Maris—”
“What were you afraid of?”
No answer.
“The company?”
Silence.
“Your position?”
“Partly.”
She shook her head.
“I never wanted it.”
“That doesn’t mean August won’t give it to you.”
“I don’t want it.”
“People say that before billions become real.”
Maris went cold.
“You think I’m Caleb.”
Julian stopped.
He knew he had crossed a line.
Maris’s voice became quiet.
“I expected better from you.”
She hung up.
Julian stared at his phone.
He had known Maris since childhood.
They were cousins but almost siblings in summers.
He remembered her stealing peaches from Seabrook’s kitchen.
Sneaking into his room after her mother died.
Crying where August could not see.
Then she disappeared.
Julian stayed.
He became useful.
Responsible.
Reliable.
Everything August needed after losing his daughter.
People slowly began introducing Julian as “the future of Ellington Holdings.”
Julian never corrected them.
Now Maris was back.
And Genevieve had been cruel enough to say aloud what Julian had only feared silently.
If she returns, what happens to you?
That evening Genevieve invited Julian to her condo.
He refused.
She came to his.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Yes.”
“Because of Maris?”
“Because you poured wine on a woman holding a baby.”
Genevieve rolled her eyes.
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“You made a decision based on who you thought she was.”
“That is exactly what August said.”
“Then listen.”
Genevieve stepped closer.
“You need me.”
Julian stared.
“My family brings political relationships your family doesn’t have.”
“Is that romance?”
“It’s reality.”
“No.”
Her face hardened.
“If Maris becomes the recognized heir again, you need allies.”
Julian looked at the woman he had been quietly seeing for eight months.
For the first time, he understood that Genevieve had never separated affection from position.
Perhaps neither had he.
“Get out.”
She stared.
“Julian.”
“Out.”
Genevieve left.
But she did not leave defeated.
May you like
She left thinking.
And somewhere across Miami, Caleb Mercer was doing the same thing.
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