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“No,” I interrupt. “You listen. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to walk away now—and not just from this conversation. I’m going to walk away from all of your petty bullshit, and I’m not getting pulled back into it.”
My father’s face reddens in anger. “How dare you speak to me that way?”
“If you try to fuck with me through my work,” I continue, ignoring him. “Then my team is going to crush you, just like we’ve already done once. And if you try to fuck with me personally, then I will crush you. So it’s in your best interests to stay out of my way.”
His hands clench into fists. “You’re my son,” he snarls accusingly. “You’re the last piece of the Wright legacy. Do you have any idea what that means?”
“You had years’ worth of chances to have a real legacy, a real family,” I tell him, refusing to be daunted by his rage. “And you spent every day of every one of those years wasting that opportunity.”
His fury has reached its peak. He seems unable to respond, his jaw tight.
“I’m not going to do the same,” I say. “Which is why this will be the last time we ever speak.”
I turn to leave, heading deeper into Central Park. It’s a nice day for a walk, and I have plenty of thinking to do.
Johnathan doesn’t follow me. When I finally glance over my shoulder, he’s gone.
Chapter 54
Sophie
The hardest part about going through a breakup, aside from the obvious, of course, is that I never know what to do with myself.
On weekends like these—rainy days, dark skies, the windows of my apartment sleek with the downpour—I would’ve gone over to Declan’s place. We would have holed up in his condo, curled together by the fireplace with whiskey or coffee in hand, depending on the time of day.
We would’ve listened to the rain against his bedroom windows. He would’ve drawn unholy sounds from me as he explored every inch of my body. Classic, perfect activities for such unpleasant weather.
But now, almost two months after our breakup, I have nowhere to go and nothing to do. My apartment is already almost spotless, but I decide to take the time to reorganize. Move some furniture around. Sort my closet by color. Sort my bookshelves alphabetically. Rearrange my kitchen cabinets.
It’s all pointless, of course. Just things designed to keep me busy, and keep me from dwelling on how lonely it all is.
I’m halfway through the shelves, surrounded by knee-high piles of books, when there’s a knock at the door. I get up and squint through the peephole. Reagan is out there, gesturing to her phone.
“Sophie, let me in! You’ve got to see this!”
I comply, undoing the lock and opening the door. Reagan rushes in.
“Have you seen this?” She waves her phone in my face.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I say. “What’s ‘this?’”
“Take it!”
I grab her phone, staring at the screen. It’s open to an article, and the first thing I see when I glance at it is a big, breathtaking picture of Declan.
My stomach twists. What on earth is she thinking, showing me this? Is she just trying to hurt me?
I move to hand the phone back to her, but she shakes her head, flapping her hands impatiently. “Read it! You have to read it!”
Reluctantly, I turn my attention back to the screen. The title of the article reads, “New Direction for Dynasty.”
My eyes widen. I scroll down to the text and begin to read.
This past Friday, Declan Wright—the elusive CEO of exercise giant Dynasty—spoke to us about his company’s new direction, and the strides they plan to take for the future.
“Go to the bottom of the page,” Reagan says excitedly. “There’s a clip.”
I scroll, reaching the video that she was talking about. I play it hesitantly, unsure if I actually want to hear his voice. Worried that just the sight and sound of him will be enough to hurt me.
