The Dark Secret of the CEO
Chapter 11

Chapter 11

“…You’re kidding?” I mutter.

Rebecca giggles.

“Come on Baby, take a seat. This is going to be the most entertainment we’ve had in a while.”

“No,” I protest, annoyed. “I don’t understand… why the hell are we watching this?”

“Because I went through all the trouble of asking those asses of American vampires for help,” Gracehisses. “So get your ass down on that couch.”

I’d protest, if she wasn’t already hissing at me and, worse, using her domination. She isn’t very good atit, as I know I could resist if I wanted, but since no one steps in to support me, I chose not to fight. Igrimace, and go to the spot they left me, right in the middle of the couch facing the TV. Bart also walksto stand behind me.

Grace sighs and plays it. I’m going to hate every single bit of this… Seriously, they sent an Americanvampire to film my funeral? What the heck…

The video starts amongst a crowd. A huge, chaotic crowd. It takes me a while to understand thoseyoung people aren’t shouting; they are crying. I gasp as I see a young girl hold a picture of me. I… I’mat a loss for words. It’s not a crazy crowd, but there are at least… three or four hundred peoplegathered. They can’t… They can’t possibly be all here because of my funeral?

“The information got leaked?” Asks Richard.

“Yes. They tried hard to conceal it but from what our friends said, some fan group released theinformation online and they agreed to gather outside. The fans had no intention to get inside theceremony though, they just waited outside. The police didn’t have anything to do, but they were calledanyway, for extra security.”

To my surprise, another fan, a man, holds a banner saying “we want the truth”. …The truth? What truthare they talking about? I don’t understand, and I’m far too shocked to utter a word. I glance around.Everyone has their eyes riveted on the screen, looking either bored, or amused with a smirk on. Theonly one with eyes on me is Beatrix, staring from Richard’s shadow. I can’t stand her stare for morethan a few seconds, and I have to go back to the TV, out of options myself.

It’s… hard. Nothing’s really happened yet, but just looking at the exterior of the church makes my throatclench, and my almost still, very slowly beating heart heavy. Those people can’t seriously be my fans…I thought I didn’t have any left. I keep staring at those faces, people who are just crying, and I can’teven fathom a single of those tears is actually for me. Someone puts a cold hand on my shoulder, but Ibarely react. I’m staring at this screen like a lost child looking for this to make sense.

“…They told me all my fan groups had been disbanded, or deleted.”

“Deleted my fine ass. …Baby, you still have almost two millions followers despite not posting anythingin months,” scoffs Cecily.

I briefly glance at her. I didn’t have anything to post! I didn’t even have a phone to hold onto, theAgency took care of all my social media for me. I thought there was nothing left of it though… I get ridof my heels and put my feet on the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees. I don’t care what Catawill say about my feet on the furniture, I just need something to protect me from the emotional damagethat’s heading my way like a cannonball. It just doesn’t stop. Whoever filmed this got into the crowd offans, filming around as they made their way through and to the church.

They finally reach the entrance, quickly getting past the flocks of those bastard journalists, and acouple of cops. Something is whispered, and from the way the cops body language changes, I’mguessing the vampire had to force their way in with a bit of charm.

“Is that our dear Abe?” Asks Rebecca, raising an eyebrow.

“The one and only,” nods Grace.

Whoever Abe is, he must be friends with Rebecca, from the way she smiles from ear to ear. Abe finallygets inside the Church. There aren’t many people, at least this bit isn’t surprising. Barely three rows ofpeople facing forward, excluding the cop standing on row six or seven. As Abe gets closer, I realize Idon’t know half of them. I grimace at the first back of the head I recognize. My Father.

He’s standing taller than everyone else, rigid as a steel bar and just as cold. He’s just like I remember.Wearing one of his flashy suits, although he made the effort of choosing a dark color. He got a haircutand clean grooming right before the ceremony for the journalists, I bet. I’ve never seen a man lookingmore bored at his own daughter’s funeral… I can’t help but glare at his figure.

“That’s a lot of people for someone alone,” comments Bart.

“They are there for my Father,” I scoff. “Any good reason to suck up to him…”

As I say that though, another face catches my attention, and unlike my father, that person looksgenuinely sad. …My half-brother. I frown, a bit confused. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s not crying,or showing much of his feelings, but there’s something different from his usually cold self. His blue eyeslook tired, and a bit red. His shoulders are lower than usual, and unlike our father, his blonde hair, theexact same color as mine, is a mess. The young woman next to him holds on tightly to his arm, actingas if she wants to shield him. His wife. I remember her heart-shaped face and auburn hair from thewedding photo they sent last year, despite the fact that I never got invited. I was surprised she took aminute to send a note to his estranged sister. I never got to meet her in person, and now, I’m regrettingit. She looks like a nice lady.

Abe walks up to the fourth row, and I’m guessing the camera is just attached to his chest, not visible toanyone. Nobody hears him, of course. He’s probably as silent as they all are here. The priest is

spouting some lies over my coffin about how loved I was, and more and more stupidities. Is that coffinempty, then? Or did Ethan fill it with stones? Another body, even?

“Hera.”

Richard’s gentle voice takes me out of my misery, and I realize I’ve been silently crying. While I turn tolook at him, I realize the gentle hand on my shoulder is actually Cata’s.

“Tell us who you recognize.”

I frown at his strange demand, but I just look back at the TV to answer.

“…The tall man in his early fifties is my asshole of a Father,” I sigh.

“Seriously?” Bart groans. “I’ve never seen a man looking actually bored at his own child’s funeral!”

“Next to him with the dark bob is his latest wife, the fifth or sixth… The guy on his right is his secretary.There’s my half-brother on the opposite bench, blonde hair with the young woman with auburn hair andthe black hairpin.”

“He looks a lot like you, Darling,” comments Anna.

“…He’s hot,” mutters Cecily.

I glare at her briefly, before I go back to the screen. I sigh. There really aren’t many I recognize…

“In the second row with that ugly ass hat is the narcissistic bitch director from my Acting Agency. Nextto her is one of my managers, and my latest makeup artist, but I only saw her twice… Oh, the two girlson the left end are two of their newest actresses, they couldn’t act to save their lives but they did getunder the recruiting manager’s desk,” I scoff bitterly.

I know all too well; the bitch on the left stole two of the roles I wanted, and admitted to me our skills hadnothing to do with the results… Unless it involved her dirty mouth. I slapped her, and that got me to notreceive any offers from then on, on top of a few headlines of how much of a bitch I was for “assaulting”one of my coworkers. I can’t believe they brought that bitch to my bloody funeral.

I keep looking around while the others comment on how pretty but dumb they look, and Lancelot’s surehe’s seen one of them somewhere, in an ad probably. There are faces from the agency I mechanicallydescribe, but I’m a bit more surprised not to see… Oh, he’s there, in the first row.

“My fiancé,” I mutter.

Abe just happened to turn so the figure of the crying man, his face covered in a handkerchief, is right inthe middle of the frame. He’s wearing one of his favorite suits, and a huge, ugly flower in his pocket.His eyes look red, and his hair is barely combed back, not looking as neat as usual. A young dark-haired woman next to him keeps rubbing his back. I’ve never seen her before.

“Well, at least one person’s crying,” mutters Benedict, looking genuinely surprised.

“…He’s acting.”

Most of them turn their heads to me, surprised. Cecily frowns, and glances back at the screen.

“…Those are pretty big grown man tears, Baby,” she says.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m an actress, and I can tell when someone’s faking something like crying.The tears are real, the sadness isn’t. And I know Charles, and I’ve seen enough real sadness. That’snot how somebody cries when they actually grieve.”

“…She’s right,” mutters Anna after a while. “Her half-brother’s hands are shaking, but her fiancé’s themost stable, still one in the room.”

I glance back at my brother, who’s actually close to Charles. I didn’t notice his hands before. They areclosed in two fists, tight. Is that why he’s not holding his wife’s? I see him very briefly glance towardsCharles. No, not glance, glare. I’m so confused. Why are their reactions inverted? I thought Charleswould be genuinely sad, I thought my half-brother wouldn’t give a damn. The ceremony ends, and I’mguessing Abe missed most of it, which I’m not going to complain about. The priest asks the people tostay quiet for a minute, but while everyone has their faces down, I see very clearly my father take outhis phone, and look at his notifications.

“…What an ass,” Scoffs Rebecca.

“His own child’s funeral!” Protests Anna. “I can’t believe the nerve of that bastard!”

“Told you,” I mutter, more for Bart than for them.

To my surprise, he gently puts his hand on my other shoulder. I take a deep breath. I’m so glad I’m notwatching this alone.

As soon as the ceremony is over, people start to leave the church, some subtly taking outhandkerchiefs and sunglasses, more for the journalists than for their actual grief, I’d guess. My dad andhis wife leave the Church almost first, as if there was a fucking fire behind them. I can’t help but feelutterly disappointed, again. I don’t know why. I should be used to it at this point. I should even be glad;that was the first time he came to see me for something that was actually about me since my twenty-first birthday.

“Are we done with this?” I groan, a bit hurt.

“No.”

Richard’s firm response sends a chill down my spine, as well as a cold wave in the room. It’s not justme; I can’t see those behind me, but all the others seem to stiffen as well. I don’t understand what’s the

whole purpose of this, but I’m forced to watch the TV again, as Abe just keeps filming. As more peoplewho didn’t give more than two shits and their public image about my funeral leave the church, someglance his way, but it lasts less than a second. He’s obviously doing something that’s keeping themaway, perhaps acting like he’s praying or something. I’m guessing vampires don’t mind much aboutChurches, then?

After a few seconds of seeing people leave the place like they attended a boring Concerto, I get to seewho’s left behind. Charles and the brunette behind him, my half-brother Arthur and his wife, and thepriest. I see the priest mutter a few words of support to Charles, then turn to my half-brother. Arthur iscold as usual, as that icy stare he gives the priest visibly convinces him God won’t share his good wordtoday. The man in a white robe just politely bows and walks away. There are a few seconds of awkwardsilence, and to my surprise, Arthur slowly walks up to the coffin, his wife naturally following behind him.Abe is standing just steps away, and I can see Arthur’s blue eyes setting on the oak with a complexexpression I’ve never seen before.

“…How did this happen?” He suddenly mutters.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles wimps under his crocodile tears. “If I had been watching her more closely… Iknew she was unstable, but I didn’t think she’d actually… I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

“You should be sorry for my little sister.”

His sentence shocks me more than anything else. I can barely believe what I just heard. …His littlesister? I can’t remember us exchanging more than a few awkward stares across a crowded room,standing next to each other for a picture, or some vague memories of our dysfunctional childhood,when we were both forced to cohabitate in one of those awkward family patchworks our father’sinability to keep one woman at a time coerced us into.

More than that, Arthur looks genuinely angry. His wife, who didn’t catch on Charles’ flawed acting,gently rubs his shoulder.

“Honey,” she mutters, trying to calm him down.

The fact that my cold-hearted brother found such a gentle woman to call him like this goes at thebottom of the list of surprises today. Unlike her though, Arthur isn’t the slightest bit touched by Charles’fake attitude, or he saw through it. I’d bet on him not caring though.

“…You were supposed to care for her,” He hissed. “And you failed.”

“I… I know you’re sad, Arthur, but I’m not res-”

“Oh no, you are responsible for this,” he retorts, cutting him off. “I’m not sad, I’m mad. I shouldn’t havetrusted anyone who came from Steven’s entourage to begin with.”

“Who’s Steven?” Frowns Bart.

“Her Father,” Grace answers in my stead. “Steven Starr.”

“Well, if your half-brother calls your dad by his name, that says what you need to know about theirrelationship too, I guess…”

Arthur may have had it a bit easier because he was my Father’s only son, his official heir, and his momstayed around, but the divorce did put him through hell too, and he’s smart enough to know our Fatheris still a shitty one…

On the screen, Charles acts faintly shocked.

“I… I’m not sure what you don’t like about me, Arthur. I’m just genuinely sorry, and… No matter whatyou think of me, I loved June, I really did. I’m… in pain, too. I just don’t want to argue with you, not

here, not now.”

“Fine,” Arthur growls. “I’ll see you at the Will reading, then.”

“She didn’t leave one,” Charles frowns.

“…Funny how you’re so sure of that.”

My half-brother walks away, leaving a white as sheet Charles behind him. I don’t get it. What the fuckjust happened… I already didn’t think Arthur cared enough that he’d actually show up at my funeral, butnow he’s even mad, and at Charles, too? What the heck is that about…

Abe seems to be one of the only ones left, with Charles and that girl.

“Are you alright, Sir?” She asks with a meek voice.

“Yes. Thank you, Clara. Let’s just go.”

He’s about to, but then, his eyes stop in Abe’s direction. I see him freeze, then make a confusedexpression, and walk over.

“…Excuse me, Sir, you are?”

“A family friend.”

“A family friend? I don’t think I’ve seen any name whose face I didn’t know on the attendants’ list,”Charles insists. “May I know yours?”

“No.”

Shit, is he going to be in trouble? I see Charles hesitate. In other situations, he wouldn’t have hesitated,used his influence or my father’s name to pressure him into giving his name, but not there. I can guess

the impressive vampire is probably giving him second thoughts about it, as well as some major “thinkabout it twice” vibes.

“…Is there something wrong, Sir?”

That voice. I freeze, wondering if I just didn’t mistake it. That is New York. It can’t be, right?

But I see a man walk into Abe’s camera’s field, and my heart goes for a violent loop. Holy shit. The copfaces Charles and Abe, glancing alternatively between them, and I very clearly see his face.

…It’s Rick.