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It’s a cool, crisp day in Central Park. I glance down at my watch, then look around. I’m close to the park entrance near West 65th, exactly where I said I would be.
What the hell is taking him so long?
“There you are. I didn’t think you were going to show up.”
I turn toward the sound of that voice to see my father, and my shoulders tense immediately. He strides toward me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his long, brown coat.
“You’re the one who’s late,” I bite out.
“I’m glad you finally wanted to talk,” he says as he reaches me.
I scowl at him. “Wanted to? That fucking takeover attempt was a pretty over the top way to get me to talk to you, don’t you think?”
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t just about that, Declan,” he says, wagging a patronizing finger. “The attempt wasn’t just to get your attention. I had more pressing reasons than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve had some health issues since we last caught up.” He sighs, shifting his weight. He seems ashamed by his confession. “And… I’ve learned recently that they’ve left me sterile.”
I stare at him. “So you’re saying—”
“I will never have another child,” he says seriously. “You are my only son.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” I snap, raising an eyebrow.
“My only son,” he repeats. “And my only heir.”
Silence hangs between us, broken only by the rustle of the leaves clinging to the branches above us. A cluster of joggers go by on the path, and I wait until they’ve passed to respond.
“What’s your point?” I hiss through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t attempt a takeover of your company just to pull you out of your refusal to communicate with me,” my father says. “I wanted us to work together. Father and son, carrying on the Wright legacy.”
“Did you really think—”
“I want to repair our relationship. You’re the only son I’m ever going to have.”
I shake my head and turn away from him, unable to look at the expectant expression on his face any longer. He thought that he would be able to derail my life, shove me beneath him, and that I would be willing to maintain a relationship with him after all the damage he caused. I knew that my father was an asshole, but I didn’t know he was delusional.
“Well, son? How about it?”
“Carry on the Wright legacy?” I repeat, looking back up at him. “Be serious.”
“I am serious.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, scowling at him. “I know. That’s what’s so depressing about you.”
“Declan—”
“That will never happen,” I say. “You get that, right? I’m never going to work with you, and I’m especially never going to work for you. I don’t belong to you, Johnathan. I’m my own man, and I’ve built my own life.”
He seems taken aback, his brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re my son.”
“Hardly.” I scoff. “I’m done playing your games. I’m done trying to prove anything to you.”
At last, my father seems to realize that I’m serious—that the rift between us is unsurpassable. His face hardens into a severe frown. “Listen to me, boy—”
