Married to Secrets
Chapter One
“The doctors gave me a year to live,” Simon said as he sat at the head of the conference room table.
Myself and my four-cofounders instantly quieted as we stared at the old man. Our first investor. Our college professor. Majority owner of our billion-dollar company, MyHome, a personalized home finding app that took users needs and lifestyle into account before presenting tailored options. Surely, we’d misheard him.
“That’s a bad joke, even for you,” Jude, our chief executive officer, teased. The playful smile at his lips didn’t meet his blue-green eyes, though. There was a tightness there, matching the nervous clench of my gut.
Simon’s lips didn’t even twitch. “I’m not joking.”
Grief. Shock. Fear. So many emotions plowed through me as I stared at Simon, the man who made my business possible with his investment. He’d invested in MyHome when no other investors would even give it a second glance. Now it was a billion-dollar company and he owned thirty percent of the shares.
I looked around at my four co-founders, some of my best friends from college, seeing my own emotions reflected on their faces.
Aaric, our chief operating officer leaned forward, blond hair falling from his bun. “Surely it’s not over yet, Simon. We can afford the best medicine there is.” His light Norwegian accent was full of gentle compassion for our mentor.
But Simon stiffly shook his head. “Congestive heart failure can’t be reversed. I’ve been dealing with it for years, but my doctors tell me I’m in the final stage.” He cleared his throat, making it wobble. “I wouldn’t trouble you with it, but it is important to future operations here.” He laced his weathered hands on the table, the Rolex on his wrist catching the overhead light.
My brows drew together, and I looked at the guys again for any hint that they knew this was coming. Quentin, our chief financial officer, typically was unreadable, but even his lips were parted in shock. And Cruz, our constantly joking chief marketing officer, wore a serious frown for perhaps the first time in his life.
Simon plowed ahead, pragmatic as ever, despite the bomb he’d just dropped in the middle of the conference room. “When I pass, my will assigns my shares to Aleyna, Damien, and Jasper. Ten percent of the company to each of them.”
The breath squeezed from my lungs, making it impossible to speak. When I woke up this morning, the last thing I expected was to be told that thirty percent of MyHome would go to Simon’s degenerate adult children.
“Over my dead body,” Jude said forcefully with his blue-green eyes narrowed. Despite the tension in the room, I was relieved he was speaking up. He was the sharpest of us, always the one who pushed us ahead and knew what to do when our backs were against the wall. Like right now.
Because Simon’s children? They weren’t just fuckups; they were famous fuckups that could tank MyHome faster than my new computer’s processing speed.
Aleyna made her money on a reality show where she caused drama and headaches for the rest of the world. And Damien? A B-list model-slash-actor with more stints in rehab than he had magazine covers—and that was saying something. Jasper was the worst of them all, spearheading a cult dedicated to worshiping... the sun.
How Simon, a storied financial advisor, raised children like that, I’d never understand.
Simon let out a heavy breath. “I don’t want MyHome going to my kids any more than you all do.” The ache in his voice was as palpable as my own relief.
I could feel my shoulders relax, and across the table, Aaric let out an audible sigh of relief. Quentin, the chief financial officer, was more skeptical than the rest of us though. He eyed Simon suspiciously, dark brown hands clasped on the table, and said, “There’s a ‘but’ coming. What is it?”
Simon’s lips pressed into a grim line. “Learning that your time is coming to an end puts things into perspective. My biggest regret in life is not guiding my children as I should have. But I still have a chance to help you all live the best lives you can.”
I tilted my head, feeling sympathy for my mentor. “What do you want us to learn?” I asked. “I’m sure we’d all be happy to. Not just because of the business, but because we respect you so much. Right, guys?”
They all nodded their agreement.
Simon’s features softened a bit, his wrinkles seeming a little less deep than before. “Thanks for that, Bryce.”
I dipped my head in acknowledgement.
Summoning up his strength, Simon pressed up from the table. He paced in front of the blank whiteboard at the front of the room like he usually did when solving a problem. Must be all those years as a professor. “I will sell my shares to you prior to my passing as long as you follow these conditions. They’re each backed by peer-reviewed research to make for a good life."
Jude let out a sigh so quiet I could only hear it because I was sitting next to him. He always thought Simon could have made his lectures a little more succinct. Even now, fifteen years past college graduation, some things remained the same.
My lips twitched, only for a moment, as Simon uncapped a dry erase marker and started writing.
1. Work with a personal trainer and nutritionist.
Aaric seemed relieved as he said, “That’s a good one. Bryce is the only one who doesn’t have a trainer.”
“Because I grew up working on a farm and my older brother was a professional athlete,” I protested. “I know how to stay fit.”
Simon ignored us both, writing out his next point.
2. Take quarterly leadership retreats. 3+ Days
“Quarterly?” Cruz muttered. “I’ll be home less than I already am.”
The marker made soft pounding sounds as Simon continued writing. His body hid the words though, so we all had to wait until he finished.
Jude leaned in closer to me, whispering, “This oughta be good.”
Despite myself, I smirked. It took me back to our sophomore year when we moved in as roommates and signed up for as many of the same classes as possible.
3. Take two weeks of vacation a year.
Jude frowned deeply. “Two weeks? That’s not practical.”
But Simon kept writing.
4. You must get married within the year and sign a prenuptial agreement guaranteeing your wife 50% of your shares upon divorce.
And that’s when the chaos began.
