Chapter 1: The Weight of FRGR

Chapter 1: The Weight of FRGR

"This is my..."

I swallowed hard. My thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. How could something so simple—introducing Travis—feel like navigating a minefield? The truth wasn’t an option. Not here. Not in front of them.

"...guardian," I finished finally. "He’s my guardian."

The word hung awkwardly in the air. A lie that didn't quite sit right on my tongue—but a necessary one. Travis said nothing, just gave a polite nod to the room, as if he’d done this before.

The dean, arms crossed, seemed unimpressed. “We’ll need documentation.”

“Of course,” Travis said calmly, pulling something from his coat pocket. “Signed proxy from her father.” He handed the paper over like he’d planned this moment hours ago. Maybe he had.

Liam’s mom shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting another glance at her bruised son, who remained silent and sullen. Seth, on the other hand, tapped his foot under the desk with unspoken irritation. His father sat beside him, unreadable.

I sat down again, Travis beside me. The room was silent except for the clicking of the dean’s pen against his clipboard.

In my mind, I wasn’t even in that room anymore. I was still thinking about FRGR.

FRGR—the company that carried my family's name like a crown and a curse.

I remembered the whispering at home. The closed-door meetings. Dad coming home later than ever, Mom whispering sharply on the phone before quickly hanging up when I entered the room. I’d overheard enough to piece things together. The board was fracturing. Long-time partners were pulling out. There were failed projects—some suspicious, others catastrophically public.

It wasn’t just stress. It was sabotage.

FRGR was tarnishing my father's name. And he wasn’t even fighting back.

I wanted to ask him—beg him, even—why he was still tied to that place. Why he wouldn't walk away before it destroyed him too. But every time I tried to bring it up, I was shut out. Dodged. Changed subject. They never discussed work when I was around.

Now it was bleeding into everything—even here, even today.

I could feel the weight of it pressing on me as the meeting continued. I gave my statement about the incident in the hallway between Seth and Liam. About the punch. About the insults. I left nothing out.

Seth didn’t deny it. Neither did Liam. There was just silence, as if the truth was too heavy to lift.

The dean cleared his throat. “We’ll conduct a full investigation. Until then, both boys are suspended for three days.”

Liam’s mom nodded, as if she'd expected it. Seth’s father said nothing, just placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and stood.

When they left, the room finally began to breathe again.

I stood too, exhausted. I turned to Travis, the questions building in my chest.

“Why did you come?” I asked once we were alone.

He glanced down the hallway, then at me. “Your dad asked me to. He’s… caught up in something. More than you know.”

I folded my arms. “You mean FRGR?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know?”

“Not everything. But enough.” My voice lowered. “The company’s falling apart, and someone wants to make sure Dad goes down with it. Maybe Mom, too.”

Travis sighed and rubbed his jaw. “Your dad didn’t want you involved. But it’s too late for that now.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

He looked at me carefully, as if weighing the cost of every word. “The same people behind the fire—the ones who tried to kill Kourtney—they’re connected to FRGR. Your dad knows. So does your mom.”

I shook my head. “No. No, Mom said it was just a misunderstanding. She told me—”

“She lied,” Travis said flatly. “To protect you.”

The air felt suddenly too thin. I leaned against the wall.

Travis softened his voice. “That’s why I’m here. Not just for the dean’s office. You're in the crosshairs now, whether anyone likes it or not.”

I stared at him, the pieces falling into place like shattered glass reassembling—sharp and painful.

FRGR wasn’t just collapsing. It was being dismantled. From the inside.

And my family was the target.

That night, the silence in our house felt unnatural. Cold. Empty.

Mom and Dad still weren’t home.

Dinner sat untouched on the table, the helpers whispering quietly in the kitchen. Sergio looked worried. Nami avoided my eyes.

I sat on the stairs with Travis.

"Tell me everything," I said, finally.

He exhaled slowly. “There’s a man—goes by Langdon. Used to work in intelligence before moving into corporate espionage. He was connected to FRGR’s last overseas deal—the one that vanished into thin air. Billions. Gone.”

“I remember Dad going on a trip. He was gone for weeks. Then came back and said it was ‘handled.’ But he looked... different.”

Travis nodded. “Because it wasn’t handled. It was buried.”

I felt my skin prickle. “And you think Langdon’s back?”

“I don’t think,” Travis said, his voice like steel. “I know. He was seen with Kim. She's working with him.”

My stomach dropped. Kim. Aunt Kim. The woman who had once held my hand during thunderstorms and bought me ice cream after piano recitals. She’d disappeared months ago. No explanation. No goodbyes.

I thought it was just… adult stuff. But this?

“She’s helping them?” I whispered.

“She’s part of it,” Travis confirmed. “And she’s not alone.”

I shook my head, fighting the tears I didn’t want to shed. “Why would she do this? Why betray us?”

“Money,” Travis said. “Revenge. Maybe both. Your father crossed a lot of people on his way up. Some of them didn’t forget.”

"And now they're going after me?"

"They already have."

I looked away, my fists clenching. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

Silence settled between us again, heavy with what-ifs and what-now.

“Do you think… do you think my parents are safe?” I asked quietly.

Travis didn’t answer right away. That scared me more than anything.

“I think they’re trying to finish something before it finishes them,” he said at last. “But they need help.”

I stood. “Then we help.”

The next morning, the air outside smelled like rain. Ominous. Cleansing.

I rode with Travis in silence. He was taking me to the Saavedra estate.

Kourtney was already there, trying to unearth the truth buried under family politics and broken loyalties. And now I was joining her. Whether my parents wanted me to or not.

I held my breath as the gates opened. The estate loomed ahead, tall and perfect. But not welcoming.

Travis reached over, squeezing my hand briefly. “Ready?”

“No,” I said honestly. “But I’m here.”

And for now, that had to be enough.

The gates groaned open with the weight of old money and older secrets.

The Saaavedra estate hadn't changed much since I was a little girl. The grand columns still stood like silent sentinels, towering over the gravel driveway. The ivy still clung to the stone like it knew too much. But something was different now. Heavier. As if the house itself knew we weren’t here for a reunion—we were here for war.

Travis parked in front of the main entrance, but didn’t turn off the engine right away.

"Once we go in, there’s no pretending anymore," he said quietly.

I nodded. “I stopped pretending the day I saw the fear in Mom’s eyes.”

He turned the engine off.

Inside, the air was thick with polished wood and history. Portraits lined the hallway—generations of Saaavedras, watching us with judgment painted into every stroke. My footsteps echoed on the marble like intrusions.

Then I saw her.

Kourtney.

She stood near the main staircase, dressed in black like she’d stepped out of an old photograph. Her eyes locked on mine, and something passed between us—recognition, relief, and a flicker of guilt.

“You came,” she said.

“I had to.”

Her gaze shifted to Travis, but she didn’t speak. Not yet.

We were led to the drawing room by one of the housekeepers—silent, stiff, and possibly listening in. In this house, privacy was never guaranteed.

Once the door shut, Kourtney finally exhaled. “They kept everything the same. Even the grandfather clock still ticks two seconds too slow.”

Travis crossed his arms. “We don’t have time for nostalgia. We need answers.”

Kourtney nodded and walked to the fireplace. She pressed her hand against one of the carved panels. It clicked.

The sound startled me.

She slid the panel aside, revealing a narrow drawer. Inside was a stack of yellowed folders, sealed envelopes, and an old cassette tape.

I stared. “What is that?”

Kourtney pulled one of the folders out and opened it. "The real history of FRGR. Before the name. Before the company even went public.”

She handed it to Travis.

He flipped through it, face tightening. “This is financial laundering. Blackmail records. Offshore accounts.”

“My father,” Kourtney said bitterly. “And his father before him. FRGR was never clean. It was just… polished.”

I leaned forward. “Then why stay with them? Why let Dad sign on?”

To be continued...