The Dark Secret of the CEO by Sofia de Orellana

“…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,” Grace hisses. “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 at it, as I know I could resist if I wanted, but since no one steps in to support me, I chose not to fight. I grimace, and go to the spot they left me, right in the middle of the couch facing the TV. Bart also walks to stand behind me.

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

The video starts amongst a crowd. A huge, chaotic crowd. It takes me a while to understand those young people aren’t shouting; they are crying. I gasp as I see a young girl hold a picture of me. I… I’m at a loss for words. It’s not a crazy crowd, but there are at least… three or four hundred people gathered. 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 the information online and they agreed to gather outside. The fans had no intention to get inside the ceremony though, they just waited outside. The police didn’t have anything to do, but they were called anyway, for extra security.”

To my surprise, another fan, a man, holds a banner saying “we want the truth”. …The truth? What truth are 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. The only one with eyes on me is Beatrix, staring from Richard’s shadow. I can’t stand her stare for more than 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 throat clench, 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’t even fathom a single of those tears is actually for me. Someone puts a cold hand on my shoulder, but I barely 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 anything in 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, the Agency took care of all my social media for me. I thought there was nothing left of it though… I get rid of my heels and put my feet on the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees. I don’t care what Cata will say about my feet on the furniture, I just need something to protect me from the emotional damage that’s heading my way like a cannonball. It just doesn’t stop. Whoever filmed this got into the crowd of fans, 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 a couple of cops. Something is whispered, and from the way the cops body language changes, I’m guessing 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 finally gets inside the Church. There aren’t many people, at least this bit isn’t surprising. Barely three rows of people facing forward, excluding the cop standing on row six or seven. As Abe gets closer, I realize I don’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 haircut and clean grooming right before the ceremony for the journalists, I bet. I’ve never seen a man looking more 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 looks genuinely 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 eyes look tired, and a bit red. His shoulders are lower than usual, and unlike our father, his blonde hair, the exact same color as mine, is a mess. The young woman next to him holds on tightly to his arm, acting as if she wants to shield him. His wife. I remember her heart-shaped face and auburn hair from the wedding photo they sent last year, despite the fact that I never got invited. I was surprised she took a minute to send a note to his estranged sister. I never got to meet her in person, and now, I’m regretting it. She looks like a nice lady.

visible to anyone. Nobody hears him, of course. He’s probably as silent as they all are

“Hera.”

voice takes me out of my misery, and I realize I’ve been silently crying. While I

us who

frown at his strange demand, but I just look back at the

man in his early fifties is

man looking actually

his latest wife, the fifth or sixth… The guy on his right is his secretary. There’s my half-brother on

lot like you, Darling,” comments

“…He’s hot,” mutters Cecily.

glare at her briefly, before I go back to the screen. I

is one of my managers, and my latest makeup artist, but I only saw her twice… Oh, the

slapped her, and that got me to not receive 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

keep looking around while the others comment on how pretty but dumb they look, and Lancelot’s sure he’s seen one of them somewhere, in an ad probably. There are faces

“My fiancé,” I mutter.

figure of the crying man, his face covered in a handkerchief, is right in the 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

at least one person’s crying,” mutters

“…He’s acting.”

their heads to me, surprised. Cecily frowns, and glances

grown man

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’s not how somebody

a while. “Her half-brother’s hands are shaking, but her fiancé’s the most stable, still one in

towards Charles. No, not glance, glare. I’m so confused. Why are their reactions inverted? I thought Charles would be genuinely sad, I thought my half-brother wouldn’t give a damn. The ceremony ends, and I’m guessing Abe missed most of it, which I’m not going to complain about. The priest asks the people to stay quiet

an ass,” Scoffs

Anna. “I can’t believe

you,” I mutter, more for Bart than

hand on my other shoulder. I take a deep breath. I’m so

to leave the church, some subtly taking out handkerchiefs and sunglasses, more for the journalists than for their actual grief, I’d guess. My dad and his wife leave the Church almost first, as if there was a fucking fire behind them. I can’t help but feel utterly disappointed,

we done with this?” I groan, a bit

“No.”

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 people who didn’t give more than two shits and their public image about my funeral leave the church, some glance

boring Concerto, I get to see who’s left behind. Charles and the brunette behind him, my half-brother Arthur and his wife, and the priest. I see the priest mutter a few words of support to Charles, then turn to my half-brother. Arthur is cold as usual, as that icy stare he gives the priest visibly convinces him God won’t share his good word today. The man in a white robe just politely bows and walks away. There are a few

happen?” He suddenly

been watching her more closely… I knew she was unstable, but I didn’t think she’d actually…

sorry for my

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’s inability to keep one woman at

His wife, who didn’t

mutters, trying to calm

gentle woman to call him like this goes at the bottom of the list of surprises today. Unlike her though, Arthur isn’t the