Zoë shifts slightly, her chin lifting. “At least he doesn’t have to pay someone to pretend to be his friend, Rylan. How’s that working out for you?”
Rylan’s smirk vanishes, replaced by a flash of pure, unadulterated hatred. He takes a step toward her, his voice dropping to a low, ugly whisper.
“You think you’re special? You think this changes anything? He’ll get bored of you. He always does. And when he’s done, you’ll be just another piece of damaged trash he leaves behind. I’ll make sure of it.”
The world narrows to a single point. The red haze descends.
But before I can move, I feel Zoë’s hand squeeze my ass through the denim of my jeans. It’s a small, sharp pressure. A reminder. My focus snaps back to the feel of her hand. To the trust in that single, silent gesture.
She’s asking me to be better.
The rage cools, solidifying into something cold, hard, and infinitely more dangerous. I take a single, deliberate step forward, moving Zoë slightly behind me with the motion. I look at him. I let him see the absolute nothingness in my eyes. There’s no anger there for him to feed on. No heat. No ego. Just a cold, empty void. It’s the look of a man who has already lost everything and has nothing left to lose.
Rylan actually flinches. He takes an involuntary step back, his bravado crumbling in the face of a threat he doesn’t understand.
I hold his gaze for another three seconds. Then, I look through him as if he’s not there, my focus shifting to the path ahead.
I take Zoë’s hand, pull it from my pocket, and lace our fingers together.
“Come on,” I say, my voice completely normal. “Let’s go home.”
We walk around him, leaving him standing there, impotent and seething in the middle of the path.
The phone buzzes against the desk, a harsh, jagged sound that finally breaks the silence I’ve been sitting in for hours. I pick it up.
“Yeah.”
“You stupid, ungrateful little shit,” my father snarls, no greeting, just vitriol down the line. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The board is already calling. The donors are threatening to pull out. You were supposed to protect Rylan!” He’s sentencing.
“I finished a war,” I say, my voice flat.
“I don’t give a fuck about the war!” he screams. “I care about the name! I care about the money! You’re cut off, Gio. Do youhear me? The trust is gone. The lawyers are dropping you. You’re on your own.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. He’s waiting for it.
Panic. Bargaining. An apology.
My gaze drifts around the room. Expensive furniture. Tech. Clothes hanging in the closet. Every piece of it bought and paid for with silence and compliance.
“You listening to me?” he demands.
“Not impressed,” I say.
“You think this is a joke? You think you can survive out there without me? You’re nothing without the name.”
“Rylan started rumors, Dad.” The calm in my voice surprises even me. “He tried to destroy me. I defended myself.”
“He’s your cousin!”
“A liability,” I correct. “And I’m done managing him for you.”
“You ungrateful—”
“Done being the scapegoat for your mistakes and his.” My reflection stares back at me from the glass. “Keep your money. Keep the lawyers. I’m done.”
“You can’t just walk away,” he sputters, arrogance cracking into panic. “I made you! I gave you everything!”
“What you gave me was a leash.” I don’t hesitate. “I’m taking it off.”
