Page 197 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“She spoke to her parents,” I reply, stepping out of the kitchen. “They backed down. They want us to visit once the news cycle dies.”
Ethan lets out a long breath. “Thank god.”
“We need to talk about logistics,” I say, gesturing to the dining table.
We sit. I open my laptop.
“The penthouse has three bedrooms,” I state. “Total square footage: 3,500. With the twins, a permanent suite for Harper, and the four of us,the variables don’t fit. We’ve outgrown the container.”
“We’re moving?” Owen asks, stabbing a piece of spinach with his fork.
“We need a compound,” Ethan says. He’s thought about it too. “Something gated. Private. With a yard.”
“I’ve already curated a list of properties,” I say, turning the screen around. “This one in Westlake. Six bedrooms. Three acres. High-grade security system already installed. It has a detached guest house for Harper or parents.”
“Buy it,” Ethan says without looking at the price.
“We should probably let Tessa see it first,” Owen suggests. “Since she’s the one with the nesting instinct.”
“Agreed,” I say. “But the data supports this location.”
Just then, Ethan’s phone rings.
It’s the specific ringtone assigned to the investors.
The tension in the room spikes instantly. I check the clock in the corner of my screen. 11:15 AM.
Ethan looks at the phone. “It’s Sterling. Forty-five minutes before the vote.”
“Put it on speaker,” I say, opening a new terminal window on my laptop. “I want to record the call.”
Ethan answers. “Sterling. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Cut the crap, Branson,” Sterling’s voice barks through the speaker. “That blog post didn’t save you. ‘Love in all its forms’? You just handed the press a target.”
“We’re transparent,” Ethan says calmly. “Our users appreciate honesty.”
“Your users are a bunch of voyeurs,” Sterling snaps. “But my legal team? They’re having a stroke, Ethan. They’re looking at massive exposure. Section 4.2. Conduct inviting litigation.”
“We haven’t done anything illegal,” Ethan argues. “We’re a family.”
“You’re a circus,” Sterling corrects him. “And you’re a liability. The injunction expires at noon. I’m invoking the Bad Actor clause in the shareholder agreement. I’m starting the emergency board vote in forty-five minutes to remove all three of you for cause.”
“You can’t,” Ethan snarls, the veins in his neck bulging. “We own the majority voting stock.”
“Not in the event of a morality breach,” Sterling counters smoothly. “Read your contract, Ethan. Section 12. If the founders bring reputational ruin to the firm, your voting rights are suspended. I’ll fire you from your own company and install a new CEO by Monday.”
“Get rid of the girl,” Sterling adds coldly. “Issue a statement saying it was a lapse in judgment. Say she’s gone and I’ll call off the vote.”
“If you think for one second…”
“Ethan,” a soft voice interrupts.
We turn.
Tessa walks over to the table. She doesn’t look scared. She looks focused.
“Sterling,” she says, leaning down to the phone. “This is Tessa.”
