Chapter 10: A motive

Everette’s pov

"Because you and Mr Calderman actually have a great deal in common," he replies, completely ignoring my point as he walks around his desk and placing a heavy hand on my shoulder and steering me toward the door. "Just help me close this meeting tonight, Everette. Besides, I know you've been badgering me about finding a way to pivot a percentage of our energy yields into those little humanitarian ESG initiatives you're so obsessed with, and if we secure this field, we could actually fund one of those clean-water offset programs you keep pitching."

I narrow my eyes at him, deeply suspicious of the sudden carrot he is dangling in front of my face.

My father has as long as I can remember, loathed anything resembling humanitarian work or giving back to the community, having literally laughed in my face whenever I suggested selling off non-performing assets to help fund public infrastructure or whenever I snuck away to work on my personal pet projects, like funding soup kitchens and building low-income housing.

In fact, his endless rants about how I was wasting my elite potential on charity, were the primary reason I built my separate tech company in the first place, desperate to prove my worth in a language he actually understood.

"Alright, Dad," I concede with a weary sigh, knowing better than to push my luck when he's making rare concessions. "I'll go to the dinner and present the package."

Leaving his office, I head straight to my master suite to change out of my tailored work suit and into something appropriate for a high-end business dinner.

I step into the bathroom, for a quick shower and walk into my sprawling walk-in closet to grab a fresh outfit. I freeze mid-step, my eyes widening as a strange, unnerving emptiness catches my attention near the custom shelving units on the far wall.

That's odd.

I step further into the closet as a cold knot begins to form in the pit of my stomach.

Every single one of Jacque's belongings is completely gone—his clothes, his gym gear, his shoes, and even the luxury watches I had bought for him over the last few months have been entirely wiped clean from the space.

"What the hell..." I whisper aloud, my pulse instantly spiking as I walk back to my room, scrambling for the phone inside my trousers pocket.

My fingers tremble slightly as I unlock the screen, and that's when I see the single text message from him sitting in our chat log.

This isn't working, Everette.

What the actual fuck?

I hit his contact speed-dial. The line rings endlessly before dropping straight to an automated voicemail announcing that the user is currently unavailable. My heart races wildly against as I stare at the screen, my mind spiraling into a chaotic mess of confusion and sudden rejection.

What on earth does he mean by “it’s not working?”

Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the back of my car, furiously hitting redial over and over again while the driver navigates through the city traffic, but every single call goes straight to the same hollow automated tone. My anxiety bleeds through every nerve in my body as I arrive at the exclusive downtown restaurant, sitting alone at a reserved corner table set for two while continuing my desperate digital siege. Finally, on my twentieth attempt, he picks up just as I’m about to give up.

"Where are you? Why did you clear out your stuff? What happened, Jacque—did I do something wrong?" I blur out all at once, my voice cracking slightly before he can even utter a single word into the speaker.

God, I hate sounding like this, completely pathetic and desperate, but this vulnerable, terrified part of me always resurfaces whenever someone walks out.

Okay, fine, maybe I have a massive set of unresolved mommy issues considering my mother literally packed up and abandoned us when we were just kids, but nobody can judge me for flinching when history decides to repeat itself.

"I'm sorry, Everette, but it’s over," Jacque's familiar, thick Spanish accent comes through the receiver, sounding distant, hurried, and strangely cold. "I can’t talk right now, I really have to go—"

"Please, Jacque, just talk to me for five minutes, let me come pick you up—" I plead softly, but the call abruptly cuts off with a final beep before I can finish the sentence.

Before I can even process the sudden loss, a shadowy figure looms over my table, forcing me to swallow my distress and shove my phone face-down onto the white tablecloth.

"Everette Carrington?" a deep voice asks, before extending a large hand toward me.

I force myself to stand up, smoothing down my jacket as I accept the firm grip. "Mr. Calderman," I say, forcing a polite, professional smile to my face.

"Call me Frank, please," the older man smiles, his grey eyes moving down the entire length of my body with a lingering, intense appraisal before he pulls out the chair right beside me—opting to sit directly next to me rather than across the table.

He is dressed in an outrageously expensive charcoal suit, his thick silver-grey hair perfectly styled.

"I must tell you, your father said so many great things about your brilliant mind on the phone, but he entirely failed to describe just how remarkably handsome you are."

My eyebrows twitch into a subtle, uncomfortable frown at the boundary-crossing comment, but I quickly suppress the reaction, pulling the detailed geological ledgers and technical projection files from my folder.

"My father mentioned you’re ready to agree on the land acquisition terms, and we’re more than willing to bring you in as a primary strategic investor to give you a massive piece of the yield action," I explain, keeping my voice steady despite the emotional storm raging inside my head as I point out the figures. "Now, this specific tech-optimization division will be my personal baby, so you and I will be working directly with each other to maximize the extraction efficiency."

I open the presentation folder.

"Carrington Energy is prepared to acquire your existing fields while retaining you as an equity partner in future expansion. My technology division has developed predictive resource mapping models that significantly reduce exploratory costs while improving extraction efficiency."

I slide the financial projections toward him.

"Our simulations project a twenty-three percent reduction in operational expenses over five years. With your existing infrastructure and our AI logistics platform, both parties stand to benefit substantially."

Frank Calderman looks the papers over, nodding along as his eyes flick between the data and my face. "All of this sounds exceptionally good to me, son."

"Wonderful," I smile, feeling a sudden surge of relief as I hand the official contract over to him alongside a pen.

Perhaps securing this multi-billion-dollar deal will finally force my father to take me seriously as a true mogul. I might not be interested in the oil business like my father and sister, but it’s still my family’s dynasty and I was weaned in it since I could walk.

"If you just sign on the dotted line, we can finalize the transfer tonight."

"Yeah... but I want one more thing before I put pen to paper," Frank says softly, leaning towards me.

"Okay..." I reply. "What is it?"

I suddenly feel a heavy, warm hand on my upper thigh under the cover of the draped tablecloth, the thick fingers slowly sliding upward with an unmistakable, intent that stops the blood in my veins.

I look down at my lap, watching his hand creeping close to the front of my trousers and I snap my head back up in absolute shock, my breath catching in my throat as Frank Calderman gives me a sickeningly confident smile.