Page 75 of Waiting for You

"I asked you here today because I wanted to have a conversation," he began, his tone pure boardroom. "I'll get straight to the point." He folded his hands on the table. "Sloane is my only child. I've spent my whole adult life building an empire, and children are the reason a powerful man builds. It isn't the money, and it isn't the vanity of the name. You build an empire because you want to leave something to someone who'll carry what you are into the next generation. You want to see your legacy continue."

His voice stayed terrifyingly even. "I was recently diagnosed with a tumor. It's benign for now, not yet malignant. It isn't a death sentence, but it was a reminder. I intend for Sloane to take over the board. I want everything I've built to transfer to her. And for that to work, she needs a specific kind of life."

I gave a slow nod.

My own parents had wanted the same thing: a prestigious name, a flawless upward trajectory, and an acceptable, groomed woman standing silently next to me at the right charity functions. Violet had grown up inside those same expectations and had walked through the fire without bending. I knew the architecture of this cage. I knew what it cost the soul.

"Did you ever ask her?" I said.

He stared at me, his eyes narrowing.

"If taking over the empire was what she wanted," I clarified. "Did you ever bother to ask her."

"Sloane doesn't always know what she wants," he dismissed. "She needs guidance."

"When Sloane and I were dating," I pressed, leaning forward. "Did she not know what she wanted back then? Was our relationship just one of the many things she was too stupid to understand?"

He went quiet.

"Did you force her to do something she didn't want to do?" I asked.

His jaw shifted once. "You were a useless medical resident," he sneered. "What were you going to provide for her? How were you going to elevate her? I analyzed your ceiling, and I made a decision about what my daughter deserved."

I sat still, the horror of that admission settling over me.

"You forced her to break up with me," I stated.

"I did," he confirmed, without blinking.

She'd been standing alone in front of this monster, and he'd analyzed the only person she loved and decided he wasn't sufficient inventory. He'd delivered that decision with a threat to gut everything I'd ever build. She'd had no one in her corner to defend her, her own father had been the predator she needed protection from, and she'd executed the only survival strategy she could figure out.

"My status as a resident wasn't your real problem with me," I said. "Was it. You had her whole existence mapped out before she was old enough to speak. Her independence was always the threat."

He held my gaze. "I wanted to protect her. I wanted to protect my bloodline from the shackles of poverty, from financial uncertainty, from a mediocre life that didn't match what her pedigree was capable of."

I let out a bitter scoff. "I'm not a resident anymore," I told him. "I run a multi-state clinic network. I'm nowhere near poor. Does that updated resume mean I have your approval now?"

"Your net worth is irrelevant." He waved a hand. "What matters is that Sloane assumes control of the empire I've built. You know nothing about running my business. This isn't personal."

"Are you hearing the words coming out of your mouth?" I demanded. "Sloane is allowed to do what she wants. That's where this conversation begins and ends. She's a grown woman who gets to make her own decisions about her own life. You can't hold a financial empire over her head like a loaded gun and call it love. You can't expect her to inherit your miserable life just because she carries your last name."

"Sloane has a duty to do what I require," he countered, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave. "That's her duty. She's my daughter."

I leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the table. "Did you have a child because you wanted a human being to love? Or did you breed an heir to manage your portfolio?"

He said nothing.

"Because from where Sloane is sitting," I continued, my voice shaking with rage, "it looks like the second one. And she wants to live her own life. She wants the freedom to make her own mistakes. You've spent her whole existence dictating what those choices should be, and she's spent her whole life trying to claw her way out from under your boot."

"When you have children of your own," he said coldly, "you'll understand."

"I'm confident I never will," I fired back. "I already know what I want for my future children. I want them to be happy. In whatever career they choose, in whoever they choose to love, I want them happy, and I want to give them the freedom to get there. I'll offer my guidance, yes. My wisdom, whatever little I have. But I'll never force my plans onto their lives. I'll never substitute my own decisions for theirs." I stared at him with disgust. "You've been a cruel father. I hope you understand the size of that failure before you die."

He said nothing. He just held my gaze.

I sat in the bright afternoon light pouring through the window, staring at his manicured hands, and my brain flashed to my own father's dining table. It was the same toxic logic dressed up as parental love, the same prison walls labeled provision. Henry Ty had done to Sloane what my parents had tried to do to me, except she'd been trapped alone in the crossfire, with no one to shield her. She'd stepped in front of the bullet to protect me from a monster I was only now meeting for the first time. I didn't blame her for breaking.

I should have been the one standing in front of her.