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I walk briskly out of the gym.
With that sorted, I can breathe a little easier on my trip. I’m tempted to worry about it still, but I file it away. Right now, I have more pressing issues, like what the fuck I’m going to say to Griffin Duke.
The walk to the library feels like it takes an eternity.
When I finally get there and speak to the operator, my hands are sweating. On the walk over, I realized I’m not afraid of what my father will say. I’ve made up my mind. I made the best choice for Alize and I, and there’s nothing he can say that will change my mind.
My only concern is the conclusions he will draw—and what those conclusions will make him do. My father has never been sane, but old age has only made it worse.
I’m his heir now.
I’m sure he wanted to use that to his advantage somehow. Alize has no family, only a nameless father and mysterious uncle who clearly aren’t influential enough to show up on the Executive Body’s radar.
In his eyes, I’ll be marrying an innocent.
This might be the only time that Graham running away to start a new life might actually work out in my favor. My father has no other option to carry on his legacy but me. He can’t threaten me with cutting me out of the will, or even killing me because of this.
If he does that, the Empire will crumble.
He’s a bitter old man. But not bitter enough to toss his entire life’s work over this. Neither is he old enough to not care. I’m sure he has plans for retirement, plans he will need money and influence for.
Plans he can’t achieve if he makes a stink of this.
Appealing to Griffin’s self-interest is the only way to navigate this situation. He picks up on the third ring.
“Duke.” His voice is groggy.
It’s the middle of the afternoon, but he sounds like I’ve roused him from sleep. Was he taking a nap? Where the fuck does he find time to take naps in the middle of the day? I can’t even take naps and I’m not running a fucking crime syndicate.
“Sir, it’s Alexander.” It takes all of my effort to even address him as that.
He breathes into the receiver. “Ah, I was wondering when you would call, boy.”
It’s been weeks since I’ve last spoken to my father.
It usually is like this whenever I’m away for school. That’s why I love being on campus so much. I don’t have to deal with him. We’re only two seconds into the call, and his voice, his tone, the fact he still calls meboyafter all this time is already heating my blood.
I tamp down the rage. Blowing up on him won’t do me any good. I shelve the feeling away, slipping on the mask I’ve used to survive him for the past two decades. The mask my mum taught me to use before I could even speak.
“I have a few updates,” I say.
There’s a hoarse laugh on the other end. “Yes, you fucking do.” He continues before I can speak, a subtle sign that he doesn’t want me to control the conversation. “You’ve lost your mind at that school, have you?”
“Pardon, sir?”
“End it,” he says. I know what he’s talking about, but I want him to come out and say it.
“What are you talking about, sir?” There’s a better chance of pigs flying.
There’s a hissing sound on the other end.
He makes that sound whenever he's pissed. Graham and I used to joke that he’s letting out the hot air in his body to make room for the words he’s about to say.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about, boy,” he begins. “I don’t know what kind of pussy you think you’ve found on that bitch, but you’d do well to let go of those delusions.” I cover my face with my free hand and start counting backwards from twenty. “If you think that I’m going to allow it, then you’re a dead man walking.”
My father just insulted Alize.
I don’t let anyone insult Alize.
