“Do you have the shares?” Maria asks as soon as she enters, skipping right over any pleasantries. Probably for the best. There’s no point in pretending this is a civil meeting; this is a war between people that hate each other.
Barton and Wilbert enter behind her, and interestingly, Barton doesn’t sit in his usual seat on her side of the table, but instead pulls out the chair at the end of our row. Maria barely spares his change of seat a second’s glance. Refusing to think about what it means, that he’s sitting on our side of the invisible war line running down the center of the long board table, I instead focus on Wilbert. The man himself is sitting beside Maria, looking loyal as ever…except he’s sweating bullets and looks like he’s about to pass out. What the hell? He looks suspicious as fuck right now with the way his gaze bounces around the room, never settling on one place for too long. He shuffles in his seat and coughs to clear his throat, and I’m convinced he’s about to give away what we’ve been planning, but thankfully, Maria doesn’t seem to notice his suspicious behavior, too focused on the paperwork in Hawk’s hand to give a shit about Wilbert, or anything else going on in the room.
“We do.” Hawk slides the documentation for Cam’s and Mason’s shares across the table, and Barton adds the documentation for his shares to the pile.
Maria looks positively gleeful as she hungrily snatches up the paperwork, meticulously checking through each page and ensuring it’s correct.
“It’s all there,” Hawk assures her. “Just like you asked.”
“Yes, it appears so,” she finally agrees, setting the paperwork on the table in front of her, and resting her hands on top of it, her talon-like claws tapping impatiently against the paper.
“And you’ll uphold your end of the bargain?” Barton clarifies. There’s no fancy paperwork to sign, or legal documentation to ensure she does in fact uphold her end. None of that will actually stop her doing whatever the fuck she wants. We just have to hope, on a wing and a prayer, that, now she has what she wants, she will in fact just leave us the fuck alone.
Not that that’s good enough. I can’t just silently sit back and live my life, knowing she will be rebuilding her empire here and, before long, be back to stealing more kids off the street and subjecting them to the harsh realities of the compound.
The problem is, I have no idea how to stop her. Okay, well I have a few rather permanent ideas, but I’m not entirely sure her death is the desired outcome here. While personally, I have no issues with killing her, I don’t think it’s what Hawk wants. Despite her cold attitude, she’s still his mother, and, well, I can’t just fucking kill her if he's not okay with it. It’s not something we’ve talked about, but the fact he hasn’t just suggested offing her himself is all the conversation we need to have.
“Yes, yes,” she snaps, far too dismissively for my liking.
“You are going to let all of us lead our own lives, without dragging us into the company,” I say, spelling it out for her. “You’re not going to threaten or bribe or coerce any of us into doing your bidding, or anything at all for the company.”
For the first time, possibly ever, she actually looks at me. Like, properly takes me in, and sees me as more than just some stranger in her house, some girl her son has brought home, or some pawn she can maneuver around a chessboard at her will. There’s still no motherly love in her gaze, merely recognition that I’ve spoken, and an assessment that I’m worthy of a response. She probably doesn’t look at me for more than a minute, but it’s enough time for me to determine that I will never care to know this vapid, narcissistic woman in front of me. She’s not a mother to me, and she never will be. And surprisingly, I’m okay with that. Sure, I grew up dreaming of the traditional family, but who the fuck wants traditional? The world is full of non-traditional families. I’d take non-traditional and happy, over traditional and miserable as fuck, any day.
“I said yes, didn’t I.”
Jesus, this woman’s attitude is infuriating.
I smile tightly at her. “Just making sure you understand the terms.”
“Yes, you all want to give up your legacies, like the entitled children you are, for the freedom you think it will gain you.” She pins each of us with a serious look. “Just know, I won’t be interested in taking any of you back when you come begging me to.”
I can tell I’m not the only one holding back my snort. Yeah, fat fucking chance of that happening.
“Well, if we’re done here,” Hawk says tightly, wrapping up the meeting. Before he can get to his feet though, Maria lifts a finger, indicating she’s not yet done. Great, now what?
“Just one more thing.” She focuses her gaze on Barton. “You’ve handed over all of your shares, and as such, I think it’s only fitting that you step down from your position.”
“I intended to,” Barton responds curtly.
Maria nods. “And I also want a divorce.”
You could hear a pin drop, the silence is so intense. Surely this is not the appropriate place to be having this conversation, in front of all of us? This is a private matter between the two of them. And yet, despite the fact I’m painfully aware that we’re intruding on an otherwise personal conversation, I can’t tear my eyes away from Barton’s face.
His eyebrows have lifted in surprise, but that’s his only reaction. He clears his throat and fixes his suit jacket before he responds, “I think that’s for the best.” With that, he gets to his feet, and we all follow, pushing back our chairs and standing. Seriously? That’s it? Twenty-one years of marriage, and it ends just like that? I don’t know if it’s for the best, or the saddest thing I’ve seen all day.
We all silently follow Barton out of the room and into the elevator, where we stand awkwardly, the others casting glances at Barton, as if waiting for him to have a meltdown. He just stands stoically as the lift descends, looking surprisingly unbothered by the events in the boardroom.
The awkwardness continues as we all shuffle out of the elevator and through the building’s reception, onto the street.
“Uh, we’ll see you back at campus in a bit,” Beck says, looking between Hawk, Barton, and I before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my temple. The others give their own kisses and hugs goodbye and climb into Mason’s SUV. Part of me wishes I could go with them, and leave this awkwardness behind. I have no idea what to say to Barton. For all intents and purposes, it appears as though he’s on our side. He handed over his shares, and he doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by the end of his marriage, but none of his recent actions add up with his previous ones. Why, all of a sudden, is he putting us first, above his wife and the company?