Chapter Text
Tony Baddingham despises losing.
Correction. Yes. Tony despises losing with every fibre of his very being. But it’s not just losing the competition that he despises.
Specifically, it is the loss of control over everything that he’s made: the sacrifices, the deals he’s forged with people he would rather not have to interact with but will for the sake of business, the effort he’s put into something that he wanted since he was young. It feels like he’s losing his footing, control over his own business, and control over his life.
It means he means nothing. It means that he’s in precisely the same place he’s been in since birth because he wasn’t born into the high society status as Rupert was. He never managed to break in, and he never will.
To add to his already destructive spiral in his office since the end of the debate between Venturer and Corinium, his wife, Monica, just gave him an ultimatum: Cameron and his ambition, or his reputation and his family.
Tony knows his wife well enough to know when she’s deadly serious about something – and this is one of those things. It’s an ultimatum that one cannot discern through merely a night – even though Monica threatened to leave him the following morning.
Tony has been debating whether or not to continue this little facade for months now. It haunts him in his sleep and in every place he looks because this skeleton in his closet threatens to boil over at any second and destroy him.
There is something he feels for Cameron, that he can be sure of – even though the evidence of her tarnishing their relationship by putting herself into bed with Rupert Campbell-Black is undoubtedly causing some of his feelings to dissipate. He thought he was doing right by her and by himself through his offering to divorce Monica and marry her – but it isn’t enough; he isn’t enough, he’s never enough.
The intensity of his passion for Cameron crackles – even though he loves Monica in a way that he’s never been able entirely to discern; something easy, something complex, something he doesn’t quite deserve – but at this point, the flames of his fury at her betrayal of not only him but Corinium are rotting to the point that he does not want to make Cameron his wife anymore.
Fury wins out against passion any day because Tony will always be more concerned about himself and his company than anything else.
Now, he wants revenge.
He also wants to make things right with Monica. Maybe he’s been acting a bit like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. He wants too much when it’s clear the world will not give it to him. That path – the path to do and go as he pleases without consequences as Rupert does – has permanently been barred from him. This event is simply an instance of correction to ensure that he is reminded of his role in everything.
Options are presenting themselves to him, unfolding and playing out in his mind like a play. What he chooses to do next will dictate the course of everything that follows. It’s a pivotal, unavoidable moment, and as much as he doesn’t want to, he must make a decision.
He can stay here and confront Cameron about the betrayal. Find out why, after everything that’s happened, she betrayed him. Reassert himself into that position that he controls her presence here – though she could easily manage the visa by some sort of quick thinking and loophole. But it wouldn’t be enough to punish her. She essentially has more to gain in all aspects of this choice.
Or –
He goes home.
He goes home to Monica, and Archie, and everyone else.
And he makes an effort to fix what he can – because maybe Tony can’t fix him and Cameron, but it sounds like he can fix this. He can make his family feel in some way whole again and put himself back onto that pedestal of being almost unbeatable.
(Even if he doesn’t feel worthy of them, even if he doesn’t deserve a second chance at having those relationships, he still needs to try.
Despite his confusion about where he stands in his relationship with Monica, he cares in a way that is etched into his being so deeply that it hurts. Monica knows him in a way that no one else does. She sees through his facade of the ambitious, vicious businessman. She cares about his success, cares about him as a person. It makes this marriage of convenience so much more than it could be.
Dammit if he didn’t try.)
Cameron doesn’t know that he knows about her cheating on him with Rupert – that just sweetens the deal for him. He gets everything in his personal life back into order. Then, he uses this knowledge to destroy Cameron and Venturer slowly and painfully, drawing it out in such a carefully crafted and meticulous way that will prolong their suffering until he’s satisfied.
Until they feel what he feels – to the extent he feels it, and more than that.
He unfolds his limbs as he launches himself out of his chair and paces. Quickly finding a rhythm, he finds himself weighing those two options. The smell of brandy and cigars wafts throughout the room – evidence of Tony’s earlier breakdown and stress.
It doesn’t take too much longer to decide. Tony likes smart decisions and likes the one that puts him in the best spot. And right now, that’s looking to be the latte. The former seems to be too unpredictable, too dependent on emotion – it doesn’t give him enough control, even if it’s taking place on his turf. Cameron is an unreliable variable that takes his upper hand away, but the second option gives him an edge.
With a glance around his office – a reminder that all of this came from him; he put himself here, and he’ll be damned if he lets it slip away from his iron-hard grasp – he heads toward the door.
He bids goodbye to Joyce at her desk on his way out, keeping it curt and emotionless as he tries desperately not to let his eyes dart in the direction of Cameron’s office. Aware that everyone in the office, except for a few people, is staring at his stricken appearance, his red eyes – the very fact that he is the one person who always maintains his perfect appearance, and it’s evident that image has evaporated since the event with Venturer.
For a second, he hesitates.
He feels drawn towards the office, towards Cameron.
But he stops himself.
He cannot lose his footing. So, with his head held high and the beginning of stitching every bit of his shattered self back together, he exits Corinium and doesn’t look back.
Instead, he looks forward.
━━━━━━━
When Tony pulls into the drive, the Baddingham mansion seems foreboding. This feeling isn’t news to him; however, usually, it’s other people who feel unease.
In the dead of night, oppressive darkness enveloped the building, casting pit-black shadows that seemed to reach every corner. The flickering lights struggled against the encroaching gloom, creating an eerie ambience that amplified the house’s features into something almost haunting.
And in a way, Tony supposes that it is.
The house has been the foundation – the unmistakable symbol of the Baddingham legacy, built from years of hard work and ambition by his father. Now, Tony risks losing it all in the place where everything began. But it’s sort of poetic to end things where they began, he supposes.
In all honesty, Tony’s terrified. He’s out of his depths. That terror and that anxiety do not ease as he enters the house. He can feel the rapid beats of his heart thumping in his ears when he finds Monica in their lounge.
She’s reading, glasses on the tip of her nose, and the dogs lying at the foot of the sofa.
Sitting on the table in a tray is a steaming pot of tea with cups intricately placed beside it – not brandy or anything that they usually share when they spend an evening together here or in any other room in the house.
However, it makes sense why it’s tea instead.
Monica wants them to talk – properly talk.
They can’t have their inhibitions or abilities to process anything lowered. This conversation needs to be handled with a grace that provides the most care and safety possible to them both.
Tony doesn’t know how to begin. There’s something when it comes to Monica – anything that comes regarding the relationship and his family – that makes him feel lost in the woods, no matter how much time passes. It’s always held him back from truly connecting with her and made him pull away. The imposter syndrome has haunted him for years, and it rears its ugly head in full force now.
“Hello.” He decides to say and feels dumb immediately.
Monica looks up; her expression looks passive, analytical, maybe. If she’s surprised he chose to come home, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she makes room on the couch for him as she gently marks her page in her book and slips it onto the side table with her glasses.
“I don’t know how you want to do this,” she says, observing as Tony shuffles almost meekly over to the couch. “Frankly, I don’t know how I want to do it either.”
“You know everything,” he says weakly, simply. The sweat begins to bead on his body, and panic starts to rise. Here is where it all falls apart. He can’t bring himself to meet Monica’s gaze, feeling unworthy and small, as if the weight of his failures have rendered him invisible. “I don’t know how to explain myself in a way that won’t hurt you, won’t hurt us, further.”
Monica shifts so she can turn his face towards her and takes his hand in her own, opening the connection that sits untouched between them. “Maybe you should stop worrying about hurting me, or us, or yourself,” she suggests. “We’re already damaged, darling. The only way to make it better is to be honest and find a new way forward.”
Tony squeezes her hand back, desperate to feel something.. “Where would I even begin?”
“What drove you away from me?” she asks softly after a moment. “I feel that’s as good of a place to start as any.”
Tony freezes, feeling his joints lock up; the hand that Monica holds turns clammy and sweaty.
It’s always going to come to this.
He didn’t expect the question immediately, but Monica deserves to know why.
Even if Tony doesn’t really know why.
If that means he needs to struggle to find the words so he can give her some sort of answer, then so be it.
For a moment, he struggles; desperately searches to find the best place to start.
But there is no good way to start.
“I’ve never felt worthy of this,” he gets out finally, voice cracking in a way that’s not very attractive, “worthy of you.”
He can’t bear to see the expression of surprise and sympathy. If he looks, he’ll fall apart, and then they’ll never communicate properly – so he pushes himself to continue, despite his fear screaming at him to stop, to remain strong.
“I spent all this time trying to claw my way up from where I started. Everything I’ve done, building Corinium, was meant to solidify that I deserve to be where I am. That I was not a fool for marrying you or even trying in the first place. But I still worry that I’m failing you and failing my father.
“You had everything. And I came from nothing. How could I ever be worthy of someone who has everything? And I suppose Cameron put me in the spot where I was the one with everything, and I liked that.”
He drones on for a while longer, speaking of similar things that have driven him away from Monica. As he does, he notes that Monica never interrupts and never tries to explain anything away. She keeps her eyes focused on him, absorbing every word said and processing it. No immediate judgment passed.
She pulls his hand closer to her chest, clutching it like she’s afraid of losing him – more than she already has. “Darling,” she murmurs after he trails. “You have always been worthy of me.”
The look he gives her at those words is something of undiluted surprise.
“Maybe society doesn’t consider you to be. But I have never cared. The conveniences of my title combined with your drive for success are…beneficial, sure. But I have harboured an affection for you for other reasons for a long time.”
Monica draws him closer until they are mere inches apart. With a gentle finger, she tilts his chin up to meet her eyes.
“You are kind, Tony,” she says, finger tracing over his chin. The touch is feather-light, gentle; meant to be soothing. “Despite that haughty exterior you present to everyone else. And your work ethic and ambition is one of which I admire. No other man born of my own status has been driven to accomplish as much as you have. There is so much to you,” her finger moves to trace over the line of his jaw, “so many layers of which I have yet to see all of.”
“Is there a universe where we can still do this?” he wonders out loud to her, hand reaching up to catch hers. “Have I broken us beyond repair?”
Monica regards him for a moment. “This relationship has come apart not just because of your actions,” she admits finally, “but a lack of my own effort to keep you grounded, keep you satisfied. A relationship is two people, so we must work on this together.”
Tony nods, fighting back the feeling of tremors shaking through his body.
Fear still clouds his mind.
“We need to start over,” Monica decides promptly. “Fall in love with each other properly or all over again.”
And Tony agrees with her.
They spend several moments discussing where the best place for them to start over would be. In particular, they highlight the issue of the lack of the time they spend together and the communication.
If this is going to work, they need to be on the same page.
When it feels like there can be no more said tonight, they end the conversation. It’s not enough, of course, to fix their relationship. However, it’s a good start. Monica’s ultimatum to get him to come home was not going to allow them to fix every issue in one night. Simply, it allowed them to see if this is something worth putting in the effort to salvage.
It will take many more days, many more hours of communicating and working together to get them in a spot that’s better than before. Hopefully, it will make the relationship feel real and not forced.
To walk up the stairs together, hand in hand, right now means there’s something still there between the two of them.
When they reach the top of the stairs, Tony spins Monica close to him and loops his long, slender arms wround her waist; he buries his face in the spot behind her ear in her hair. For a few moments, they stay like that, holding each other close as they sway to a music only they can hear.
Tony murmurs things to her that he can recall from their small, fractured conversations over the years. Things that no one else would understand, but Monica would.
Pulling apart finally, Tony’s hands trail down Monica’s arm until they reach her hand. Both of his hands wrap around her one, clutching it close to his chest like it’s his lifeline.
He kisses her knuckles, eyes never straying away from her own.
“Goodnight, darling,” Monica murmurs, pecking his cheek as she pulls away toward the direction of her bedroom, “sleep well.”
“And you, darling,” he says, watching her departure until she turns around the corner.
“And you.”
It’s a start, and that’s all they need.
Tomorrow brings them a fresh start, tomorrow brings him a chance to talk to Monica about what to do about the franchise.
━━━━━━━
Cameron manages to sneak away to join Venturer’s celebration. When she realised Tony left, she practically ran out of the building to drive all the way to Declan’s house.
It’s nice. Being able to celebrate with them. She forgot how much she used to enjoy spending time with people. The freedom she felt coursing through her veins because every decision was her own. But Tony has kept her leashed, kept her in her place and acting with caution since their whole affair began.
She didn’t realise she hasn’t been free since she started seeing Rupert.
The party goes over well, and she gets to know the others better and better.
At the end, when almost all of them have cleared out besides Declan, Freddie, Rupert, herself, and Declan’s kids, that’s when the conversation turns to serious topics about Venturer. Of course, this means the conversation turns to Tony.
His behaviour today is different than Cameron has ever seen it in all the time she’d known him.
“It’s got to be desperation,” says Rupert, hand gripping Cameron’s knee in an almost possessive way. “He knows we’re a serious threat now.”
“But doesn’t that just make him a bigger problem?” Declan asks as he downs his whiskey in one go. His gaze slides agonizingly slow over to Cameron, biting his lip. “Cameron, you know him the best.”
“I thought I did,” mutters Cameron, adjusting her position on the couch. It feels like it’s collapsing against her, and it hits her how close Rupert is to her right; how he’s peering into her soul. “I’ve known how he would respond to most things. But this?” She shakes her head. “I never would’ve imagined he’d play the way he did today.”
Freddie looks like he may have a thought, but he says nothing.
Declan tilts the bottle of whiskey to refill his glass. “We may be in a better spot than he is right now,” he says, voice sounding hoarse. He looks tired, put out, “but we can’t count on that.”
“Agreed,” says Rupert. “Tony’s going to be playing a whole new game. If we can’t figure out what it is, then we’ve lost it.”
And then, Cameron notes that Freddie, Declan, and Rupert all share a look. It’s odd, and there seems to be an encouraging nod to Rupert towards her.
Oh. God.
Rupert lets out a breath, looking slightly pained. “Darling,” he says smoothly, taking her hand in his own. “We need you to figure it out. Figure out what’s going on in his twisted brain. You’re the only one who can.”
Cameron bites her lip, feeling the lipstick stain her teeth as she bites back a groan.
Fuck.
Freddie clears his throat, and their attention slides to him. “If I know one thing,” he says, “from talking with Monica during Tony’s courting me for his board…it’s that Tony is good in a pinch. He’s bound to be maneuvering his way out of this.”
Now they’re fucked even more.
And it’s all going to come down to how much longer Cameron can pretend to be in love with her boss.