Page 94 of Line Change

“They’re fake. AI.” He shrugs and I sputter. Shit. Now what? He folds his hands on the table. “I wouldn’t have had to go this route if you hadn’t blocked my number.” He raises an eyebrow. “Think I didn’t know about that? If you simply answered your phone like the good daughter you were raised to be, you’d have known this was coming.” My mouth gapes open. What the actual hell? The good daughter I was raised to be? “Regardless, we’re here now. Sign. It.” He clenches his jaw so hard I’m shocked he doesn’t crack any teeth.

“No,” I repeat for the third time. “I’m not signing it.”

“Such a shame. I’ve been eyeing some farmland in the Cotswolds. I think it’d be a great location for a smaller hotel, maybe with a golf course.”

Shit. My mind whirls.

He smirks. He knows he’s got me. He stands, leaning forward, his hands on the table.

“I’d suggest signing over the chain. I’m being generous, allowing you to keep all that money. There’s nothing to think about.” He pauses, gripping the table tighter. “But if you want to, that’s your choice. Maybe a few more injuries to those you care about will change your mind. Or a betting operation involving members of a certain team and their staff that comes to light.” He’s trying to blackmail me. What the actual fuck? “Maybe even their head coach. I wouldn’t wait too long to sign those papers.” No. No. No. This is absolutely absurd. No one would believe that the Storm are involved in betting. That’s ridiculous. He shakes his head. “It’d be a shame, but …” He trails off, going out the door, and slamming it behind him.

I collapse back into my seat, my heart racing. What the hell? I can’t let him do that. He could ruin careers. Ruin people’s lives.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Henderson. He threatened me with losing my license if I didn’t give him the details of our meeting.”

“Pretty sure you could lose your license for disclosing this to him,” I snap.

“I know this isn’t what you expected, but it could be worse. He could be demanding the money as well. Do you want to sign the paperwork transferring the hotels?”

I glare at him. This could be worse. I hate that mentality. Of course this could be worse. Any bad situation could be worse, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t shit. A whole stinking pile of shit if we’re being honest.

“I already told you my decision. No.” I point to the stack of papers in front of him. “Get the papers drawn up transferring ownership to me.”

He swallows roughly, staring down at the table. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.” Legally, I’ve met the criteria of my inheritance. I know it, and I’m pretty sure Glenn knows it. “Figure it out,” I tell him, standing. “I’m not giving my father what he wants.”

“It would be better for all parties involved if you cooperated.”

I shake my head and stride out of the conference room and building. Once I’m safely in the car with the doors locked, I take a shaky breath in, running a hand over my belly.

What the actual hell?

The tears that I’ve been holding back break free.

I bang the steering wheel in frustration.

Why can’t I break free of my father?

I’m not entirely sure why he wants this hotel chain so much. It’s tiny compared to the rest of the business. Maybe I should just give it to him. I don’t want to, but if it means protecting my friends, my team, protecting the family of the man I love, then maybe it’s what I need to do.

It’s not fair, and that’s what pisses me off the most. Why does the asshole get to win? Why can’t I win for once? Good always triumphs evil in fiction, so why can’t it also win in real life?

But I don’t see a solution. Part of me knows he’ll do everything in his power to ruin the lives of the players and other staff involved with the team until he gets what he wants.

If there’s one thing I’m certain about my father, it’s that he’ll do whatever it takes to destroy my life because he didn’t get what he wanted. But there’s not a whole lot I can do now.

I need to go home and do what, exactly, I’m not sure, but I can’t keep sitting here, so I put the car in gear and head back toward Orlando.

I need to figure out what I’m going to do. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something I’m missing. A way to get out of this and keep the money, the hotels, and protect my friends and my family from my father’s wrath. And if I could ruin him in the process, that’d be the cherry on top.

Chapter thirty-six

Sebastian

I’m running on fumes when we land in Orlando late on Thursday after our seven-day road trip, as are most of the team given how quiet the plane was. We played four games over the past week, and it was not good—one win and three losses, one of which we lost in overtime and one that was a shutout. Three fucking points out of a possible eight. I thought we had a few of the games in the bag, but between missed penalties, goals being taken off the scoreboard, and missed stoppages, we ended up losing. Pretty terrible. I’m also still sore from the hit I took during Saturday’s game.

I’m so ready to be home with Sutton. I miss her, so very much. Her and our baby. And the cats too, can’t forget them.