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The passport in my hand says Farcliff, but I feel like a stranger. With Nico by my side, who joined me in Stirling, my feet carry me down an escalator to a row of taxis, and I let the car transport me all the way to my father’s offices. No sense delaying the inevitable. The faster I can quit this job, the faster I can go back to Penelope.
When I pull up outside the shiny, window-clad tower with my father’s logo branded atop it like a crown, discomfort churns in my gut. How many times have I walked through these halls feeling inadequate? How many times have I dragged an acquisition plan behind me like a trophy, laying it at my father’s feet and hoping he’d give me the fatherly approval I so craved?
Too many.
Now, when I step through the rotating doors and stride across the wide lobby, I see just how small it is. Men and women in suits pretending to rush to their offices, feeling important because they have briefcases and titles. For what? To make money for a man who told me I was disgusting?
A veil has been lifted from my eyes, and I see all this for what it is—empty, meaningless, vapid. Carrying my suit jacket over my arm, an elevator whirrs all the way up to the top floor. Only when the doors slide open do nerves finally twist deep in my stomach.
“Are you okay?” They’re the first words Nico has spoken to me since we got on the plane. His glasses are slightly crooked, but his eyes are sharp behind them. “You look like you’re about to make a bad decision.”
“I’m fine,” I say. But I’m not fine. I’m about to make a decision, but it’s not bad at all. It might be the first good decision I’ve made in years. Decades.
When we step out of the elevator, my father’s receptionist looks up then gestures to the door. “He’s waiting for you.”
Nodding, I head for the corner office. I knock twice and enter without waiting for an answer, pushing it open and stepping into the inner sanctum of my father’s business. The place I dreamed I’d sit behind that polished desk overlooking the city.
Now, it all looks so…small.
“Son,” my father says, standing up and extending a hand.
My brows tug together, my gaze drifting from his face to his outstretched hand. Son? I clasp his hand in mine and take a seat in the chair across from him.
“I’ve been waiting for you to get back here and claim your victory.”
“My victory?”
“Donovan, Asher. He’s ours.”
“Oh. Right.” My heart tightens slightly at the thought of the merger I’d all but forgotten. I meant to tell Penelope about it, but with everything…
My father leans back, an oily grin sliding across his face. He sighs, intertwining his fingers behind his head as he stares at me from beneath bushy eyebrows. “I have to admit, when you told me you wanted to go to Nord, I didn’t think anything would come of it. I thought it would be a waste of time and company funds.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” My voice is flat. After everything I’ve done for the man over the years, he still doubted my business savvy?
“You’ve impressed me, Son.” That’s twice he’s used that word, and it feels as foreign to me as if he were calling me Logan.
I nod. “Thank you, Father.” My eyes focus on his desk, tracing the wood grain with my eyes. This is it—this is when I pull the resignation letter out of my suit pocket and slide it over the desk. I tell him thank you for all the opportunities, but I’ve found something I want more. I wish him the best, shake his hand, then walk away. Forever.
Before I can clear the lump from my throat, though, my father speaks. “You’ve earned your spot in this office, Asher. I don’t even know if I could have done what you did in Nord. Within weeks, you made one of the most lucrative deals we’ve ever had—and cut Donovan down while you did it. It was sheer brilliance.”
And I have Penelope to thank for that. I lift my gaze to my father, nodding. Words don’t come.
“You know I’ve been wanting to retire for some time now,” Father says, eyes boring into mine. “I was waiting.”
“For what?” I croak.
“For you to step up and show me you could do this.”
“You mean for Logan to step up?”
My father waves a hand. “Logan doesn’t have half the business brain you do.”
His words fall on my ears like stones in a pool. I stare at the aging man before me, knowing in a corner of my brain that this is what I’ve been waiting for. Decades of my life have been spent aching for my father’s approval. I’ve killed myself to hear him say those words—to acknowledge I’m worthy of this. Of him.
Now that he says it, though, I don’t inflate with pride the way I thought I would. I feel…nothing.
My father’s eyes sharpen, and he leans his forearms on his desk. His fingers interlace, with a soft clinking of his rings when they touch. “Next week, as soon as the acquisition of Donovan Enterprises is completed, I’m going to announce my retirement, and I’m going to name you as the new director. I’ve been planning a long holiday with your mother, and I thought we could use it as a trial run. You could take the reins while I’m sitting on the beach sipping cocktails.”
