His excitement seemed to deflate when he heard I wasn’t anybody important. “One of the directors at the bank has been accused of illegal insider trading. It’s all over the papers,” he said, and nodded to the stack I held under my arm. My heart almost stopped beating, and I walked past him in a daze. As soon as I’d scanned my ID and made it by reception, I found a bench and set the papers down. There on the front page of the very first one was all I needed to know.
It showed a picture of King, which looked to be taken at some function a couple of months ago. He wore a suit and an aloof expression while the photo was being captured. The slant to his mouth made him seem cruel and uncaring, which I thought was probably the intention. The article read:
Oliver King, head managing director at Johnson-Pearse Bank, has been accused of insider trading after an investigation into the financial institution’s public and private accounts. The claims were brought forward by an ex-employee of the bank, who wishes to remain anonymous. This individual is said to have left their job after discovering the unethical practices of the managing director. Mr King is the son of classical pianist Elaine King, who left the public eye over a decade ago after a long and successful career on the international stage….
And on the article went. I felt like I was going to throw up as I comprehended what was happening. I was on autopilot when I left the newspapers sitting there and hurried for the elevator. There were a number of other people inside, but I barely noticed them as I hit the button for my floor. Moments later, the door pinged open and I was out, almost running as I made my way to King’s office. I saw Gillian first. She sat at her desk, her expression as pale as a ghost, and I knew she’d heard the news.
“Where is he?” I asked, breathless.
Her worried eyes came to mine before she nodded to the closed door of King’s office. It was a rare moment that Gillian was lost for words, and this was one of them. Grasping the handle I turned the knob and stepped inside. King stood by the window, his hands buried in his hair as he stared out at the view. On his desk was an empty bottle of whiskey, his favourite tipple.
“Oliver,” I whispered, and he turned, eyes bloodshot and face contorted in misery.
“Leave me,” he said, his voice pained.
I took three steps. “No. We both know this story is bullshit. It’s Bruce. I’m sure of it. He’s orchestrated all of this, planted the evidence.”
“Of course it’s fucking Bruce!” King cried, startling me. “How naïve were we to think he’d back off? Men like Bruce don’t back off — it’s not how they’re drawn. By backing off, he might as well be admitting he’s a dead man. It’s weakness, you see. I don’t know why I ever allowed myself to believe otherwise.”
All at once, the guilt hit me. Blackmailing Bruce had been my idea. Therefore, what was happening right now was my fault. Tears filled my eyes as the strength fled my body.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
King’s eyes came to mine, so blue, so beautiful, so sad. He shook his head, seeming to read my thoughts from my expression alone. “No, Alexis. Don’t even think it. All of this was going to happen eventually. Bruce has always despised me for not being like him, for making it my life’s mission to never be like him. He was always going to try to destroy me. It was only a matter of time.”
“But King, I….”
In a few short strides he was in front of me, his fingers going to my lips to stop me from continuing. “I said no, my darling. No. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Just by breathing, you make all this a million times more bearable. I’ve lost the respect of my peers, of everyone I know. I’ve lost.” He paused, choking up, his posture projecting his misery. His hands fisted, his jaw clenched tight. “I’ve lost everything I worked years to build. The pride I held, the respect I commanded from others, it’s all gone. I’m no longer the best at what I do, no longer surpassing anybody, because everybody thinks I got where I am by cheating.”
“But you didn’t cheat. You know it. I know it. Your mother knows it. We’re the only ones who matter.”
All the breath left him at once. “Oh, Alexis,” he said, his voice the saddest I’d ever heard it. “You don’t understand. If I don’t have respect, I have nothing. I might even go to prison for this.”
In that second, the whole world went still. My heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, and my legs almost buckled out from under me. I’d been so preoccupied with what Bruce had done to shame King that I hadn’t even thought about the consequences. Insider trading was illegal, and breaking the law meant prison time. I stared at him, mouth open, despair filling me up, when there was a knock on the door.
We both turned our heads, expecting Gillian, but somebody else stepped inside. It was the strange woman I’d seen just once before. The one with the dyed red hair who looked like a gypsy.
“Oliver,” she began, but he interrupted her.
“Get out! I don’t want to see you!” King fumed, stepping by me to face the woman.
“But I can help,” she insisted.
“You can’t. You never have. All you’ve ever wanted from me was money. When I look at you, all I see is him, so leave. Leave before I have security come and physically remove you.” The last part of what he said was dark, seething, and the woman’s face grew frightened.
“Okay, I’m going. Just remember, I’m here if you ever need someone. I’m here, Oliver. All you have to do is come find me.”
And with that, she went. I wiped the tears from my face. “Who was that?”
“Nobody.”
“King.”
“I said it was nobody,” he shouted, and I stilled. Deathly quiet filled the room until his phone started to ring. I thought he was going to ignore it, but then he saw his mum’s name on the screen. He picked it up and held it to his ear. The room was quiet and the volume was loud, so even though I was a foot away, I could hear the voice on the other end, and that voice didn’t belong to King’s mother. It was a deep, scratchy, seedy London accent, and my chest seized as I guessed who it belonged to.
King’s entire form turned to stone as he listened.
“’Ello, son,” said Bruce, layers of cruel satisfaction lacing his voice.
“What are you doing with my mother’s phone?” King demanded, a tremor in his words.
“Thought you could fuck me over, you little shit. Me and your mum are just having some quality time now. You know, reminiscing. I was hoping you could come and join us.”
A feminine cry rang out, and then an audible slap. Bruce’s voice moved away from the phone. “Stop crying, or I’ll give you something to cry about. You knew what he was doing, didn’t you, you stupid bitch. The both of you tried to fuck me. Well, now you’re gonna learn that no one fucks with me and gets away with it.”
“If you harm her,” King began, voice low and angry, but he couldn’t seem to hide his emotion. His sheer panic was evident, and I knew Bruce was enjoying it. “If you touch a single hair on her head, I will kill you. You think you’ve won, but you haven’t. I have nothing left to lose now, Bruce. Nothing.”
Cruel laughter sounded from the phone, and in a split second, King smashed it into the wall, the screen cracking to pieces. He grabbed his coat and fled the office. I ran after him, begging him to wait, but he wouldn’t listen. I followed him to the back exit of the building where no journalists were waiting, and before I knew it, we were in a taxi headed for Elaine’s house. I tried to hold King’s hand, but he wouldn’t let me touch him.
The air between us felt cold and I scrambled to try to think of something that would calm him down. Stop him from doing anything stupid. The journey was too short, and before I knew it, King was throwing money at the driver and running to his mum’s. The front door, which I knew King had new locks put on after Bruce’s last break-in, had definitely been meddled with. The door was closed, but the lock was bent out of shape. King pushed it open, and we both hurried inside. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood waiting in the hallway. He folded his arms over his chest and shot King a confident smirk.