Chapter I
The Secrets We Keep
T hree months had passed since the first phone call and the threats were still coming. They weren’t constant or predictable, which made them even more disturbing: two weeks would go by without a word, just long enough for Adam to think they had given up, and then he’d get a call at two o’clock in the morning. “Get Amelia back on board or we’re telling Stanford and your fancy little boss what you did,” the all-too-familiar voice would say. In a rage, Adam would yell, “You can’t prove anything!” and hang up.
Students had begun moving back to campus for the new school year.
To keep their status on campus as a student residence, the Phi Delta fraternity had to reserve two rooms for non-members, and T. J.—now an alumnus—had pulled some strings to get Adam a room there. “Basically, the fraternity picks two cool dudes who they like and want to live with, but who for whatever reason decided not to pledge last spring,” T. J. had explained to Adam.
T. J. had also explained that it would be a “great networking opportunity” for Adam. “The relationships you build in the fraternity—and these are influential guys from influential families, Adam—will take you far beyond sorority mixers. It may seem like a get-wasted-and-do-stupid-things party from the outside, but the bonds you form playing beer pong at three a.m.
are indestructible, and you’d be surprised how they’ll come into play twenty years from now when you’re trying to close some deal.” Adam liked that logic and repeated it verbatim when he told Amelia.
He didn’t need T.J. to convince him to take the room, though. He tried to hide it, but he was excited about moving into a fraternity house. And this wasn’t just any fraternity house; Phi Delta was
the
frat—the one Patty and all her friends flocked to—and everyone knew it. In one quarter, Adam had gone from dweeb in the dorm to young entrepreneur in the Phi Delta house. Sophomore year was looking great.
He was in his new room, transferring books from a moving box to the floating bookshelf above the bed, when he heard an e-mail come through on his phone. Ever since he and Amelia had started their company, Adam and his iPhone had been inseparable. Any time he heard an e-mail notification, he dropped everything, interrupted any conversation, to get to it. It could be Amelia with a new development or T. J. with an urgent question, or maybe someone from the press (okay, that hadn’t happened yet, but Tom said it would), and Adam had to be prepared to jump into action at any moment.
He opened the e-mail and, as he read, he felt the blood drain from his face.
Adam,
_ We thought you might not think we were serious, so we figured we’d share a little something we found in the study after you left_]
The Family. See attached screenshot. You and Amelia aren’t the only
clever ones around here. We need Amelia to do something for us.
You have two weeks to convince her or we’re sending this out. Your
company has a blog right? Maybe we can post the picture there.
__
Your Brothers
[__] “Hey stranger.”
Adam turned to find Lisa walking through the door. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Everything okay? You look upset.” She furrowed her pretty brow in concern.
Adam quickly closed the e-mail and swallowed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.
Just—it’s nothing. How are you? How is the move going?” Lisa had been assigned to a dorm across campus with a roommate from Nigeria. She was on a co-ed floor and Adam had not been pleased to discover that her neighbor was a starting player on the men’s water polo team.
“Oh, it’s great! You know Mom; she had everything unpacked and in perfect order by lunchtime, but she chipped her nail when she was putting together an IKEA shoe rack, so we just went to get manicures.” Lisa flashed her hands to show freshly pink-painted tips.
Adam grabbed them and pulled
The Secrets We Keep
T hree months had passed since the first phone call and the threats were still coming. They weren’t constant or predictable, which made them even more disturbing: two weeks would go by without a word, just long enough for Adam to think they had given up, and then he’d get a call at two o’clock in the morning. “Get Amelia back on board or we’re telling Stanford and your fancy little boss what you did,” the all-too-familiar voice would say. In a rage, Adam would yell, “You can’t prove anything!” and hang up.
Students had begun moving back to campus for the new school year.
To keep their status on campus as a student residence, the Phi Delta fraternity had to reserve two rooms for non-members, and T. J.—now an alumnus—had pulled some strings to get Adam a room there. “Basically, the fraternity picks two cool dudes who they like and want to live with, but who for whatever reason decided not to pledge last spring,” T. J. had explained to Adam.
T. J. had also explained that it would be a “great networking opportunity” for Adam. “The relationships you build in the fraternity—and these are influential guys from influential families, Adam—will take you far beyond sorority mixers. It may seem like a get-wasted-and-do-stupid-things party from the outside, but the bonds you form playing beer pong at three a.m.
are indestructible, and you’d be surprised how they’ll come into play twenty years from now when you’re trying to close some deal.” Adam liked that logic and repeated it verbatim when he told Amelia.
He didn’t need T.J. to convince him to take the room, though. He tried to hide it, but he was excited about moving into a fraternity house. And this wasn’t just any fraternity house; Phi Delta was
the
frat—the one Patty and all her friends flocked to—and everyone knew it. In one quarter, Adam had gone from dweeb in the dorm to young entrepreneur in the Phi Delta house. Sophomore year was looking great.
He was in his new room, transferring books from a moving box to the floating bookshelf above the bed, when he heard an e-mail come through on his phone. Ever since he and Amelia had started their company, Adam and his iPhone had been inseparable. Any time he heard an e-mail notification, he dropped everything, interrupted any conversation, to get to it. It could be Amelia with a new development or T. J. with an urgent question, or maybe someone from the press (okay, that hadn’t happened yet, but Tom said it would), and Adam had to be prepared to jump into action at any moment.
He opened the e-mail and, as he read, he felt the blood drain from his face.
Adam,
_ We thought you might not think we were serious, so we figured we’d share a little something we found in the study after you left_]
The Family. See attached screenshot. You and Amelia aren’t the only
clever ones around here. We need Amelia to do something for us.
You have two weeks to convince her or we’re sending this out. Your
company has a blog right? Maybe we can post the picture there.
__
Your Brothers
[__] “Hey stranger.”
Adam turned to find Lisa walking through the door. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Everything okay? You look upset.” She furrowed her pretty brow in concern.
Adam quickly closed the e-mail and swallowed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.
Just—it’s nothing. How are you? How is the move going?” Lisa had been assigned to a dorm across campus with a roommate from Nigeria. She was on a co-ed floor and Adam had not been pleased to discover that her neighbor was a starting player on the men’s water polo team.
“Oh, it’s great! You know Mom; she had everything unpacked and in perfect order by lunchtime, but she chipped her nail when she was putting together an IKEA shoe rack, so we just went to get manicures.” Lisa flashed her hands to show freshly pink-painted tips.
Adam grabbed them and pulled
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