“Look, Sam,” he says, shifting his tone, “you’re the onewho wanted in. You said you wanted to get into the development game, right? These are the deals you make. You want access? You cut people in. That’s how I made a name for myself in two years—by connecting with the right people. People who expect things from me. Just like I’ll expect things from you for bringing you into the big leagues.”
What the hell have I stepped into?
“You didn’t bring me into anything,” I say flatly. “I’m the one who fronted the money. Holly’s the one holding the risk. And according to this contract, which we are not signing, you’ve done nothing but cash in.”
I stand to leave, but Rick grabs my arm. “You’re making a big mistake. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“You’re right, I didn’t,” I grit out, shaking him off. “But I do now.”
I pause at the door, turning back one last time.
“Oh, and if I ever catch you talking to my wife again?” I step closer, my voice low. “I don’t care how many deals you’ve made. I’ll bury your reputation so deep even your ‘friends’ won’t be able to dig you out.”
I walk out of there knowing it isn't over. Rick isn’t going down without a fight. I know what I need to do. As much as I dread the conversation with my father, it’s long overdue.
Driving to my parents’ house makes me feel ten years old again, desperate for my dad’s approval. He was always busy working. The only time we really spent together was on the baseball field. He treated that part of fatherhood seriously—showing up to toss a ball around—but I’m not sure he ever got the memo about unconditional love.
I know he cares, in his way. But growing up, if I wasn’t accomplishing something important, I didn’t feel good enough.
He was just as against me taking over Grandad’scontracting business as my mom was. She turned her nose up at blue-collar work, and Dad—while slightly more tactful—asked, “What are you going to do with it? How will you make it bigger? Better than it already is?”
Not bad advice, I guess. But why didjustmaking a good living have to be some kind of failure?
He already knows about the situation with Rick’s contract. What he doesn’t know is how that mess bled into my marriage. I didn’t want to lay another failure at his feet. And having your wife move out is classified as a failure of epic proportions.
I let myself in through the front door and head straight to his study. I knock, then open the door. He’s seated behind his monstrosity of a mahogany desk, reading glasses perched low on his nose. He glances up and gives a single nod.
“Samuel. Good to see you. What brings you by?”
I take a seat across from him, the air thick with discomfort. I feel like I’m in the principal’s office again.
“Dad, I messed up. I need to make sure Rick is removed from the salon property completely.”
He leans back and laces his fingers over his chest. “Good. Rick has no legal claim. He drew up those contracts himself, which was a joke. Without your signatures, they’re meaningless. Holly’s name is on the LLC and the lease. You’ve got documentation of your work and investment. If you want Rick out, he’s out.”
I blink. “That’s … really it? I didn’t just destroy Holly’s and my financial future by getting in bed with that guy?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’ve dealt with men like him my whole career. Parasites. They latch onto early-stage deals and try to wedge themselves in. You caught on early; that’s what matters.”
Relief rushes through me. “Jesus. Okay. That’s a start. Now if only fixing my marriage were this easy.”
Dad narrows his eyes. “What happened with your marriage?”
I shift uncomfortably in the chair. This isn’t a conversation I ever expected to have with him.
“I gave the money to Holly without talking to Becca first.”
He says nothing for a moment. “Did Becca contribute to that account?”
I nod, already wincing at where this is going. “Yeah. She put in a lot, creating systems to ensure we put in more. We didn’t have a prenup, but she drew up a postnup after I made the investment.”
That gets his attention. His eyes widen. “Smart girl.”
I stare at him. “Wait, what? You’re not going to say something about how it wasmymoney?”
He sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Samuel, your mother and I had a very different kind of marriage than you and Becca. God knows I love her, but I carried the entire financial load. Your mother grew up used to a certain kind of lifestyle, and I worked myself to the bone to make sure she never had to change that.”
He exhales slowly, his gaze drifting past me.
