Chapter 12: No news is good news

Wednesday, 8:05 am

Buried in my bed sheets, my phone woke me with its incessant buzzing. I blindly reached for it without success and cursed as I reluctantly opened my eyes and began sorting through my blankets looking for the damn thing. During the process, my phone stopped which made it harder to find. The entire time, I had to remind myself where I was and what had happened over the last five days. Inheriting billions of dollars, buying a company, and fucking numerous hot women who threw themselves at you was something that most people could only dream about, so it took a bit of convincing that I had received a lapdance and blowjob from my ridiculously hot assistant last night.

I finally located my phone and glanced at it to see a missed call from Helen and a text:

’Turn on the news. Doesn’t matter which network.’

I grabbed the remote, turned on the television, and scrolled through the channels till I found the first one that resembled a news network. A blonde, blue-eyed woman was in the middle of a report with a picture of my grandfather’s face superimposed next to her.

“ ... cause of death hasn’t been confirmed, but officials say that at this time, there is no indication of anything other than natural causes. What has much of the country on edge though is the burning question of who Gerrard left his estate to.”

“That’s right Melody,” a man said and then the camera panned to focus on him.

“For years, it’s been left up to speculation on who would inherit the Gerrard empire. It’s no secret that there was a rift between one of the wealthiest men in the US and his children.”

The screen cut away from the news reporter to show a clip from an old interview of Colin Gerrard speaking to an off-screen interviewer, “Have you decided who is going to take over your controlling shares at Gerrard Holdings?”

Colin leaned forward, his hands steepled in front of him and bushy eyebrows drawn low in consternation. “Well, I can sooner tell you who it won’t be,” Colin said. His voice had the raspiness of a man who had smoked most of his life.

“So you don’t know?” the interviewer asked.

“‘I can’t say at this time’ would be more accurate,” Colin responded.

The screen cut back to the male reporter, “However, an anonymous source has confirmed with the Affiliated Outlet who is to receive the keys to the Gerrard kingdom.”

An image of my face flashed on the screen next to the newscaster, and I immediately sprung to my feet on the California King mattress.

“Oh fuck!”

“Marcus Leonard Upton has been named the sole heir of the Gerrard empire.”

“Shit!”

“The estate, which includes several companies across the entertainment, technological, hospitality, and fuel industries makes this man one of the wealthiest in the United States.”

“What the fucking fuck!?”

I jumped off the bed and started searching for my clothes. My phone screen was already on Helen’s text, so I hit the call button.

“Economists estimate Marcus’ net worth to be around seven billion dollars.”

“Wait. What?”

“Hi Marcus.”

Helen answered the phone without the usual husky tone in her voice. This was business Helen, which I needed.

“Helen, what the actual fuck?” I said, hopping around on one foot as I tried to throw on the pants from yesterday. Remaining in my underwear while I was being outed to the entire world as a billionaire felt too vulnerable.

“I don’t know, Marcus,” Helen said. I could hear her furiously typing away at a keyboard. We’re looking into it right now. The break-in and the leak both happening yesterday can’t be a coincidence. Someone obviously has it in for you. I know you didn’t want the news to spread, but that ship has sailed, so we should commit our resources to damage control and finding out who did this and why.”

There was a knock on my door and I snatched my shirt off the bed before going to answer it.

“Who is it,” I yelled through the door.

“Erin!” came a muffled response.

“Who is it?” Helen asked over the phone.

“It’s Erin,” I replied as I threw open the door.

Erin stood in the doorway looking completely different than she had last night. It was hard to do anything other than stand and gape. Her exotically colored hair had been pulled back in a loose bun that left strands of hair falling loose around her face in a subtly messy style. It looked more artistic than sloppy. A pair of thick-rimmed glasses framed her big, dark-brown eyes and magnified them slightly. Her makeup had been reapplied - a dark shade of lipstick, black eyeliner, and a bit of blush that gave her a hint of goth, while remaining on the correct side of looking professional. She wore a suit jacket left open to show a loose cream blouse underneath that showed off almost no cleavage and a pair of pants that did a magnificent job of accentuating her small, tight ass and hips. It was all complimented by a pair of heels that added an extra two inches to her height. She was the perfect blend of professional and sexy.

She didn’t look me up and down and give me the shit-eating grin she’d given me last night despite me being bare-chested. Instead, she pressed one of the two coffees she held in my free hand and brushed past me to enter the room.

“Good morning sir. Hot latte with an extra shot, two pumps of cream, and one sugar ... just how you like it.” She glanced at the phone pressed to my face, “Is that Helen?”

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly remembering I was on a call with my lawyer dealing with the fact that I’d barely been able to hang onto the biggest secret in my life for less than a week.

“Good,” she said, glancing over my shoulder at the open door to the bedroom. We could see the news on the tv from where we were standing. “I take it you’ve seen the news?”

I nodded.

“Has Erin seen the news?” Helen asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Good. Put her on speakerphone, please.”

“Alright. It’s done,” I said, laying the speaker on the bar nearby so I could finish getting dressed.

“Erin, I’m reaching out to some of our contacts at the Affiliated Outlet to see if we can get to the bottom of this, but I don’t think they would give up the source.”

Erin had already pulled out her phone and typed furiously, “Probably not.”

“Could you go ahead and start vetting private investigators?”

“Yep,” Erin said, “Helen, is the purchase of the Dunbar building or Marduke easily traceable?”

“No. We purchased them through one of Gerrard’s shell corporations,” Helen responded.

Erin looked at me, “Sir, I don’t know how long it’s going take someone to catch on that you’ve ordered a room here. I have a car downstairs. Since they covered the purchase of Marduke, we could get you there and out of the public eye pretty quickly.”

“I used to work there. You don’t think they’ll go snooping around?” I asked.

Erin shook her head, “I’m sure a few people will poke around looking for a story, but we can get rid of those pretty easily. No one will get to you here, but the longer you wait to leave, the more they’ll likely swarm outside the casino. Then you’ll be stuck in a siege. We can figure out what to do next once we get to the Dunbar building.”

“She’s right,” Helen said. “Dunbar’s security can let any investigators know you no longer work at Marduke. Billionaires don’t need to work as financial as financial analysts.”

That all made perfect sense. “Okay. Let me just get my stuff.”

“Alright,” Helen said over the phone. “I’ll meet you at the Dunbar building, and we’ll go over a strategy to deal with all this.”

I heard her hang up the phone on her end as I ran back into the bedroom and grabbed my wallet and card key off the end table. I’d collected some of my belongings while at my apartment yesterday and considered taking them with me.

“I have this room for a week. I’ll be able to come back here, won’t I?”

Erin shrugged, “I don’t know, but if you need someone to come and get the rest of your stuff, I can always come back. Either way, I suggest we get going soon. This news is pretty fresh, but it’s not going to take them long to figure out where your apartment is, that it was trashed, and that you’ve been staying at this casino since it happened.”

Agreeing with her, I followed her out the door. Erin led the way with the help of someone from security through the kitchens to the back of the casino where the car we’d used yesterday was parked. We managed to get in and move away from the casino without any confrontation and headed toward Marduke.

Wednesday, 9:15 am

I’d gotten to Marduke without coming across a single reporter or paparazzi, which Erin said was incredibly lucky. Once there, we made a beeline through the lobby without looking anyone in the eye. Entering the elevator, we went straight to the top. Once in my office, Erin headed to her own office to work on finding a private investigator.

“I’d recommend staying off the phone,” she said. “Don’t call anyone. Don’t answer calls, texts, emails ... nothing. Radio silence till we figure out a strategy.”

Assuring her that I understood, then she set to work, abandoning me to the silence of the office and my thoughts.

I leaned back in my chair and contemplated how all this could have happened. I had no real idea of knowing who was aware of my inheritance. Obviously, YPV’s team knew about my connection, as did a handful of people at my primary banks. The people in Marduke knew something had happened. There was Gina, who I’d fired right after officially taking over the Gerrard estate, but she had no way of knowing about the connection between my late grandfather and myself.

What about Bobbi?

She knew I’d come into a large sum of money. I’d told her as much, but I never mentioned where I’d gotten the money from. She had no way of connecting the dots, right? Had I left some paperwork at the hotel for her to find? I started second-guessing myself - Bobbi certainly would have had the motive to out me, but did she have the means? The more I thought about it, the more uncertain I was about my caution around Bobbi.

I reached for the phone and dialed Bobbi’s extension, hoping she had come in. On the second ring, she picked up and said, “Marduke Analytics. This is Bobbi Nanford.” Judging by her tone, you wouldn’t have thought she had just lost all her assets and had been blackmailed into being at my beck and call. She sounded completely normal.

“Hey Bobbi,” I said. “Glad you made it in today.”

“Oh.” Her tone grew flat and disappointed. “What do you want?”

I had no idea how she could heat my temper so quickly. I was usually an even-keel guy, but Bobbi had this uncanny ability to know exactly the right thing to set me off. Until a few days ago, I’d responded by being intimidated. Now, I was just mad.

“Shut the fuck up, finish what you’re doing, and get the fuck up here. You have thirty minutes.” I hung up the phone, not waiting for a reply from her, and stewed on the fact that Bobbi had every reason to want me to suffer. The more I mulled over that fact and questioned whether or not I’d left something out that I shouldn’t have for Bobbi to see, the more convinced I was that she had leaked my business to the world.

My phone buzzed on the desk, and I glanced at it; it was my mom, calling for the third time within the past hour. I picked it up and hit decline, then scrolled through my notifications. Since the story broke this morning, I received calls from my mom, dad, Dillon, and four other close friends. There was a call from Natalie. I had five missed calls from my brother Jacob and two from my youngest brother Richie. There were a few more from more distant relatives and several I didn’t know. Strangely, the only immediate family member who hadn’t called was my older sister Emily. Since she and I had the closest relationship, I would have expected at least one call from her already.

I sighed and let my head fall back against the chair’s headrest. I would have to start talking to my family and fill them in on the situation. My missed call count was a statement of that fact. What should I tell them? Did I need to disclose how much actual money I had? That I owned the vast majority of a holding company that owned huge swaths of some of the most successful companies in the world? Should I tell them that it was just the tip of the iceberg of how much my grandfather actually controlled?

I closed my eyes and tried to center myself. Was this situation as bad as it seemed? Were Erin and Helen overreacting? What was the harm in simply embracing the status of a wealthy mega-corporation owner?

I heard the door to my office open before I had a chance to think about it too much. Assuming it was Bobbi, I snapped at her, “Shut the door behind you.”

“Rough day?”

My eyes flew open and I looked toward the door to see Helen closing the door behind her as she looked at me with a small smile. I smiled back at her and said, “You could say that.”

Helen nodded and approached me. “Understandable. I don’t think it’s going to get any easier.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting up in my seat. She approached me, and I got the same sort of feeling from her I usually did - a sexy professional in full control of any situation she was in, who was there to look out for me in all the ways she possibly could.

I reached for her and she drew closer, sliding on my lap as I wrapped my arms around her waist. She snaked her arms around my neck, gave me a languid kiss, and played with the hair on the back of my head. After a few indulgent moments, she pulled back.

“Well, I don’t know who leaked the information,” she said, her lips tight in disappointment at her efforts.