"We only ever listen to what we want to hear, and when we don't like what we hear, we just disregard the bits we don't really want to know about. Some call it selective hearing, others call it the preservation of sanity and still there are people who call it downright denial. Whichever category you happen to fall into, one truth of the matter at hand remains the same: we all do it to protect something, be it ourselves, our sensibilities and delicate egos, or for some others, it is to save face, reputation or whatever it is rebranded as wherever you are.
But then it comes to bite you in the ass.
Secrets have a bad rep, they have this annoying habit of being unearthed, uncovered and dirty laundry will always be aired, whether it be two weeks after the incident happened or two decades after your death, or, most likely somewhere in between on that scale. Regardless of when it comes out, let me tell you it does, it always does and that, dear friends, is exactly what I have found to be the case. Whatever people have told you in the past, I'm telling you now: with reference to an old Chinese idiom that used to get quoted at me all the time: if you haven't done anything wrong, you won't be afraid of the past knocking at your door. "
The scarlet study which had, without the acknowledgment or permission of Zhao Yingyue (Selena to everyone else), been rebranded as the rosewood study was smaller than she remembered. The vast study in her child's memory seemed to be this tall forboding door which opened out into a hall as big as the cathedrals that she had been dragged around by her social studies tutor who had been a devout Christian. There had always been a sense of mystery and it shocked Yingyue, as if she had just had a bucket of ice water thrown over her head, that it was in reality, an ordinary study, much like something you'd see in anyone's home. There was a large plush wing-backed chair, that rested behind the rosewood desk which dominated most of the left side of the room. The entire back left wall was obscured by bookshelves packed with leatherbound tomes, their titles picked out with gold embossed lettering. She walked into the room with a little more trepidation than was rationally acceptable for a full-grown woman, most of it stemming from her strict ban from the room as a child. The right side of the room, she saw was much more homely and looked more like an extension of the parlor outside, less open and welcoming though. There were no flowers, no silk faux curtains gently blowing in the breeze, and certainly no hot chocolate to be had. There were four armchairs around a small coffee table also made of rosewood. The cabinets the covered the right wall were locked, unlike the one filled with books, these were topped up to the brim with bottles of alcohol, come older than both Yingyue and Elise.
"It's different..." Yingyue trailed off slowly, "why did my father keep this from me?"
Another pause.
"It seems so normal, I was expecting a skeleton in a closet type situation, or skeletons plural, it's just a study."
Elise laughed lightly at the skeletons comment but then schooled her feature back into her serious face. "No, it's all the stuff he kept in here, from company books to any of his further connections into the underworld, his entire empire starts and will if it ever does, end in this study. He gave me the key to the filing cabinets under his desk to give to you, I'll leave you to peruse."
"Wait, Elise, hold on. What do you mean by peruse? Your father specified that I should show you everything in this study including the cabinets before you step into the offices for the first day of work. I don't know what's in them but I hope it means something. He spent the better part of his last year here with us, collating this." She spread her arms wide, gesturing at the study at large. "That's it, the infamous rosewood study, I'll be outside, come and find me when you're done." With a swish of her blond hair and trench coat, she shut the heavy door of the study with a soft click and Yingyue listened as the click of her new guardian's heels clicked away into a deafening silence that bore down on her and toyed incessantly with her imagination.
Yingyue took a deep breath, in and out. In. And. Out. She steadied her nerved and with shaking fingers and legs of jelly. Her hands trembled so violently that it took her a few attempts just to slot the key into the cabinet lock and even longer to turn the stiff lock. The paneled door creaked open and she found stacks of clear plastic containers and folders upon folders of papers and two thick photo albums. She pried the photo album open with the utmost care, her fingers scrabbling against the slippery plastic.
Baby photos. Hundreds and hundreds of baby photos. Sonograms, handprints, footprints, birth certificates, hundreds of papers, every single birthday, Christmas, and father's day card she had ever scrawled together, dating back to when she was still stabbing haphazardly at the crisp paper with her crayons and washable paint markers until the last one she sent her father from London. Photos that chronicled every single significant moment of her childhood. All the events that her father never went to, someone had obviously been around to take the pictures, and in some of the earlier instances, pictures she didn't know were being taken. Her playing in the snow and throwing flour around while baking (something that had been wholeheartedly banned in the house) and completely buried under a full ball pit of plastic balls and bean bags. Every single certificate and cheap plastic medal she had ever presented to her father from her attendance records to her primary school graduation diploma. It was all there, even some things she couldn't recall ever giving him.
A crisp letter fell out on the company's embossed cream letter paper that was usually reserved for partners or merger letters. The neat loopy handwriting of her father stared back at her as she tried to read the words but they blurred in front of her eyes and the corners of her vision faded in and out of complete darkness at an alarming rate. She sniffed fiercely and swiped the tears from her cheeks.
---
Xiao Yue,
I know I've never been the best parent, certainly not done enough for you to warrant any amount of praise if any at all. Just know that even though I was never physically there, I was always there, silently in the wings, rooting for you. I always was, always am and always will be, physically or otherwise. I've decided to give you the full company, I don't believe the bullsh*t that they say girls can't run businesses. I'm sorry if I ever let you think otherwise, it was not to hurt you, but to lead competitors off of the trail. I don't expect forgiveness, I just hope that you can understand the pains of being a parent one day.
I love you, always have always will, and know that I have always been and will always be proud of you. Don't let me down as I believe in you.
Father
---
Yingyue clutched at the letter, let the tears fall down her cheeks and her legs collapse under her. She sat in a pile of childhood paraphernalia, sobbing uncontrollably, her heart fit to bursting with too much raw emotion for her to know how to deal with.