Stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours.
It’s been five weeks since the discovery that Paris Dane istheDane Campbell. The Dane Campbell that invented Nova, the first ever and superior code that allowed for the first introduction of AI into our world.
Any companies that utilize it to build on their own AI coding have to pay him royalties. So, yeah, he’s a fucking billionaire.
Dissecting all that information after our first class—when I nearly choked him to death, had me running through a roller coaster of emotions.
I have no idea why someone with his kind of wealth wouldstay in a hostel other than to do exactly what he did. Seduce us, trick us, take advantage of us.
But, did he?
As much as I hate admitting it, and would never admit to him, I know I wanted it. I wanted him. It was the best part of our entire trip and I hate that Dane Campbell and everything we did still lives rent free in my head.
I glance up at Hannah who’s completely consumed in her study book, then look around the café on campus. It has a large open area with tons of different types of seating options for the students who like to hang out between classes and study or do homework. It even has a few private spaces for groups that are working on projects.
It’s comfortable and we’ve found ourselves migrating here after most of our classes.
After we both graduated, Hannah was top of her class, obviously. We opted—well she opted—to apply for her MBA because not only does it look better on a resume, it was something she’s always wanted to do. Especially after the accident.
It’s probably the only area in our life where we’re exactly opposite.
Where she found her passion, I lost mine.
As bitter as I am, I’m happy it wasn’t the other way around. And I’m even happier that she’s still here with me. Because, we almost lost her. After we both healed and started learning sign language it was sort of a solidifier for us. Nothing would tear us apart, emotionally or physically.
So, we always knew that we would stay together, wherever we went. School, work, it didn’t matter, we would find a way to move and live together. Neither one of us wanted to do the long distance thing. So, when baseball was no longer an option, it made the decision to stay in Seattle easy. She can finish her degree and I work for my dad.
He hated my love for baseball and wanted me to stop playing from the minute I joined Little League.
He never went to any of my games, nor did he support my desire to go pro.
After the accident I had no other option. I never had anything to fall back on and because Hannah needed so many surgeries, the medical bills just kept compounding.
My dad knew I couldn’t take care of them so he offered to take care of them, only if I paid them back, with interest, and worked for his company so he could have the father son team he’s always dreamed of.
Not that he cares much about me or a father and son working together. He just likes the image it portrays.
Somehow he thinks that makes us look more approachable, likable. But there’s nothing likable about Edward Russo. He does things that benefit him only and the first opportunity he has to hold something over your head, he will.
Back then, I didn’t care. I just wanted Hannah to get what she needed. I don’t regret it, but the debt he holds over me, reminding me almost on a daily basis, is excruciating.
Regardless, I’m stuck, paying him back for the rest of my life, currently taking an MBA course because he thinks the title will look good on a business card, all while working in a field that makes me sick to my stomach.
I’m living my life with no choices of my own, just doing what he says because I have to.
His firm, Russo & Company, is one of the largest accounting firms in the United States and they represent some of the biggest companies worldwide.
The people that work there are nice enough, other than my father of course, but there’s no joy in it. Not for me at least. However, if it supports Hannah and provides stability for our future, that’s exactly what I’ll do. If I can’t be happy in mycareer, I might as well do whatever I need to do for her to be happy in hers.
I mean, I’d rather be crushing fastballs and reviewing baseball statistics but I can hardly stomach watching a game, even though I can’t help but follow all the highlights and players.
So, the fact that I have to meet my father at Ford Field ballpark to watch the Seattle Smashers in their first playoff game in less than an hour is only a slight slap in the face.
Is this a father son relationship building outing? No. He has a potential client he’s meeting so he has to appear like a standup, present father. He only brings me along for the image, to tell them how proud he is in front of their faces, just to turn around and remind me how much I disappoint him in private.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Don’t really want to go.”
