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I excused myself and made my way out of the plush offices, the interior of which, I would never see again, and as the dying rays of the afternoon sun hit my face, I struggled to gain control of my emotions. I rushed around the corner and leaned against the wall of the building sucking in a few more calming breaths. It was a setback. A big setback, but I’d had bigger, and survived. I could do this. .
Chapter 27
Drew
I barged into my father’s office, much to the distress and dismay of his secretary, Jean, who had tried to stop me. I intentionally flung the door back so hard and fast that it rebounded off the wall and slammed closed behind me, effectively shutting in Jean’s face—I’d apologize to her later.
The commotion caused my dad to look up from his call, and, no doubt, the expression on my face was enough to tell him I meant business. He cut the conversation short, seemingly hanging up on the person on the other end.
“I don’t remember us having an appointment.”
“I thought there didn’t need to be a specific reason for us to speak, isn’t that what you said on my birthday? Although there is a very good reason right now, and damned if I’m going to make an appointment to tell you what an asshole you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“Going deaf all of a sudden, old man? I don’t think so. You heard me.”
He stood up, and rounded the desk in a flash—I’d joked about him being old, knowing it would piss him off, but the fact was that physically, he could pass for a man half his age. He was still fit as fuck and built exactly like me—neither one of us was about to blow over in a hurricane.
“I did hear you, but I wanted to give you a chance to redeem yourself before I unleash my wrath on you, in case you’re having some kind of episode, just like your feeble-minded mother.”
The mention of my mom had my fists clenching immediately. Just as I knew how to press his buttons, he was adept at pressing mine.
He was well aware that my mom was my point of weakness, and by using her as a bargaining tool, he knew he’d always get what he wanted from me, especially if her safety was at stake.
“Why did you tell me that Kristina Sanchez was blackmailing you, when really she’s suing—trying to make you pay for the devastation caused by the use of chritonium, and the fact that you’ve been covering it up for years?”
“Because, as far as I’m concerned they amount to the same thing. And because I know that you’re too much of a bleeding heart—just like your useless grandfather and Mommy dearest—to see it that way. If I’d told you the full story, you wouldn’t have wanted to do what I was asking of you.”
“Then you’re the one who should be seeking redemption, not me, you evil bastard.”
He threw his head back and laughed, long and hard.
“You’re crazier than that stupid bitch if you think you can barge in here and speak to me like that and not suffer the repercussions. I’ll crush you like I crushed her.”
People say they see red when they’re angry, and maybe they do, but for me, it wasn’t red that flashed behind my eyes, but a strong white light, so bright it was almost blinding, and something inside me snapped.
I threw the first punch, and I’ll never forget the look of shock on my father’s face when the blow connected with a loud bone-crushing crack. After that point, everything was a blur. We fought like opponents in a cage-fighting bout, rather than father and son, thrashing it out in the former’s upscale uptown office.
As we brawled, furniture scattered about the room—a bookcase toppled, my father’s desk slammed against the far wall, and its contents scattered across the floor. The damage to the decor was nothing compared to what we were doing to each other, however—each of us punching with all our might, and as though our lives depended on it.
We were both accomplished fighters, and well-matched physically. Dad had always trained, and given his propensity to bully me verbally and push me around physically, I’d started training as soon as I could.
As more blows connected, I blocked out the pain, not caring if I broke every bone in my body. It would be worth it to make sure Victor Cavanagh got what he deserved, rather than what he wanted. Nor did I care about the blood spatter, now covering the floor, decor, and our clothes. I was in it to fight until one of us no longer could, and I was determined to make sure that person wasn’t me.
In the end that wasn’t necessary, as I was dragged from my father’s thrashing body by two security guards who were each bigger than Dad and me put together. As they hauled me away from him by the armpits, they turned to Dad for guidance on their next move.
“Throw him into the gutter, where he belongs.”
They began dragging me toward the door.
“Oh, and Drew?” He spat out a mouthful of blood, not waiting for me to respond. “Get it done, or else your mother will be joining you there, and she’ll be as dead to me as you are. The deadline for the IPWS deal is looming, and the clock is ticking. Ticktock. Ticktock. Don’t test me.”
It wasn’t an idle threat. My father was nothing if not a man of his despicable word.
“Screw you. And don’t worry about having me escorted out, I’m going. And mark my words, the next time I step foot in here, it will be to dance on your grave.” I meant it figuratively, but if it were to also apply literally, I definitely wouldn’t shed any tears at his funeral.
I got into the car and tried calling Xavier as I made my way back to Trinity Hall. The call went straight to voicemail, which had been happening a lot lately, since his obsession with Rocky showed no signs of waning. He hated that I called it that, an obsession, but no other word would do.
