Page 109 of Long Story Short

I don’t answer, but I don’t have to.

His lips slowly turn into a knowing smirk. “She made you soft,” he spits. He tries to make the words sound offensive, but they’re anything but. In fact, they almost make me laugh.

Almost.

Instead, I step closer. I lean over him, looking down my nose at the man I used to respect. Now, my skin crawls just being in the same room as him.

“She didn’t make me soft,” I begin, keeping my voice calm and composed. “She just made me realize I don’t have to be like you. I can get everything I ever want—happiness, success, everything—and I can do it all being nothing like you.”

I can tell it hits him just like I want it to.

He shifts, unable to hide his irritation at my words.

Good. I have him just where I want him.

“Take the deal,” I command before lifting a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Or don’t. But either way, this ends today. You’ll be out of my life—and Winnie’s—for good. I’m not letting you scheme your way back. We’ll be done.”

I straighten before running my hands down the front of my shirt. “After today, I’m not giving you any more money than what’s agreed upon here. I won’t clean up anything else for you. And you won’t touch the company again.” I enunciate every single word, making sure he knows I mean it. My words are final. “You’re done. Just accept it and get the fuck out of our lives.”

The room goes still.

My father stares back at me, and for the first time in my life, I don’t care about the way he looks at me. I don’t wish for his acceptance. No amount of blood we share can make me care about him. I’ve found a way to get him paid, keep him quiet, and make sure he can never touch what we’ve built with Bishop-Moore Hotels. It works out for him too. He gets some money. He just also has to disappear and keep his mouth shut. It shouldn’t be a problem for him. He’ll have the money to go wherever he wants. And it’ll come in increments, so he can’t blow it all at once.

There was once a time in my life when I would’ve given anything to get into his head in this moment. I would’ve died to know what he thought when he looked at me. I wanted to know he was proud of me. Now…well, now I just want out of this condo and to never have to see his face again.

I don’t need him to be proud of me because I’m finally proud of myself, and I’ve learned that’s all that matters. I don’t need anything from him except for him to never come near me—or my family—again.

He rips his gaze from mine before reaching for the pen.

I’m a little surprised that he signs. Part of me expected more of a fight from him. But then again, I don’t think he was expecting me to come in so firm with him. He can tell something has changed in me, and I think he still has enough of a brain to understand the settlement is the best he’s going to get out of me.

The scratch of the pen against the paper feels much louder than it is. It almost feels like it echoes across the room. It sounds like something final just happened.

“This isn’t over,” he says, his voice quiet and not holding the same confidence it used to.

I laugh before meeting his gaze. “It is for me.”

I mean it in a way I never have before. I pick up the folder and turn toward the door. I don’t hesitate as I make my way to it. I don’t look back. I have no desire to. I don’t need any final thoughts from him or any kind of goodbye. I just need to be done with my father once and for all.

I step outside, the air hitting me right in the face. It feels different as I let out a sigh of relief. When I breathe in the air, it feels cleaner, lighter, like something deep inside me has finally been cut free.

I pause by my car, the folder still in my hand, and for a moment, I just stand there. It hits me that it should feel bigger than this. I just ended something that’s defined most of my life. All I ever wanted to do was make my father proud of me. It wasn’t an easy decision, but cutting things off with him once and for all doesn’t feel as big or dramatic as I thought it’d be.

It just feels done.

I look back at the condo, taking it in one last time.

This is what everything led to.

Every late night trying to prove something to him.

Every deal I thought would make him proud.

Every decision I made trying to prove my worth to my own father.

All the times I was trying to be enough—for him.

All of that for a man who was never going to see me as anything other than a pawn. I was never going to be enough for him. He was always going to push harder, take more.