Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“How long are you here?”
“Not long,” I tell him. “I have a few people to see about an investment and then I’m going back.”
“Investment?”
“My next club. I’m looking for an investor so I don’t have to roll capital. It’s easier and builds relationships. It’s very much a ‘you do me, I do you’ type of business.”
“Interesting concept.”
I shrug. “It’ll be the last time, I think. Three clubs in the same city is a bit much. I need to expand, broaden my enterprise.”
He laughs, but it’s the truth. I’m a self-made millionaire, pushing myself to be a billionaire by the age of thirty. I can’t do that by sitting idly by and watching opportunities go by.
“Why are you really here?”
I hate that he can see right through me. “I want my inheritance early,” I tell him. “You can give it to me through an investment or hand it over, but I don’t want to wait until I’m thirty-five to collect. I need it now.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“I’m in a situation. There’s a woman—”
“She’s pregnant?”
“Fuck no,” I say. “She wants to get married and I don’t even like her. On paper we’d be a Vegas power couple, but I can’t stand her. The problem is, her father is my primary investor and she’s threatening me. I can secure others, but I’m out of time. Construction is under way and people’s livelihoods depend on work. I don’t want them losing their jobs because I fucked the wrong bitch one time in college.”
My father and I may not see eye to eye on his marriage, and it may have driven me away, but that doesn’t mean I won’t lay it out on the line for him. No sugarcoating anything, especially considering the fact that I want the money my mother left me. Sure, I’d love to keep it where it is, accruing interest, but if I can use it to make sure my project is complete, so be it.
“I’ll call my accountant tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Will you be leaving after you get the money?”
His question catches me off guard and I can’t tell if he wants me to stay or not. “Not sure, why?”
“Because, Finn, I want you to go. You can spend the night here, but tomorrow I need you to leave.” This time he makes eye contact with me and I know he’s serious.
“Okay.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you here, it’s because I saw the way my wife looked at you, the way she licked her lips and pushed her tits up trying to entice you. If you stay, she’ll fumble into your bed, walk around naked forgetting that you’re here or tell me she accidently fell on your dick, and I don’t need that in my life right now.”
His words catch me off guard and I sit there with my mouth hanging open as he starts to leave the room.
“Oh, and there’s a letter for you on your desk. It’s from your mother. I found it about a year ago going through some of her things.”
He leaves me with that tidbit of information, making me wonder why he never sent it to me. I hightail my ass upstairs, praying the step-whore is out of my room. My luck she’s probably flicking her clit while staring at the pictures I have in there.
Opening my door, I’m immediately thrown back into high school. My bed is in the same location, my walls are decorated the same and my trophies still sit on the shelf.
“Fucking creepy,” I mutter as I walk in and shut the door. I check the closet for good measure to make sure the tramp isn’t hiding in there.
Right on my desk is a faded envelope bearing my name in my mother’s handwriting. I pick it up carefully, afraid everything will break due to the age of the paper. I open it and pull the simple notecard out. Her handwriting is legible, but faded.
Finn,
A young woman by the name of Macey came by and gave me this, asking me to send it to you at school. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. You’re destined for greatness and this is the last thing you need. Please forgive me.
Inside the envelope is a black-and-white picture, showing me a black-and-white blob. The word Sonogram is barely visible in white and letters that make up Macey’s name are in the right-hand corner.
This is Morgan’s sonogram, I’m sure of it. My mother knew and never told me. The question is, does my dad know? If he does . . . if he let my daughter grow up miles from him with nothing, I will kill him. He won’t have to worry about his wife putting the moves on his son because he won’t be alive long enough to know if she succeeds or not.
I pull out my phone and send a picture of the sonogram to Macey with the words: We need to talk . . . now.