Contracted to Love

Headlines and Headaches

Travis groaned at his phone's nonstop beeping. Continuing to ignore the constant notifications, he rolled out of bed with a pounding headache and gritty eyes.

"Travis" Tina's voice accompanied her pounding on the door to his bedroom.

"Go away Tina" He yelled back on his way to the ensuite for a much needed shower.

"Daddy's on the phone, he said he'll come drag your sorry ass out if you don't talk to him"

"Twenty-Six and she still calls our father Daddy." He muttered. He was well aware of the spoiled brat his sister was, but he had thought having her move in with him and giving her a job would help her grow up. Obviously he was wrong. Her childish and petty actions literally cost him ten million dollars yesterday. "Tell him I will call when I get out of the shower."

He stopped in front of the mirror and stared. He had never looked so defeated in his life. His grey eyes where blood shot and had dark circles under them attesting to his sleepless night. Even his olive complexion was dull, more yellow than golden. His dark hair was all over the place, proving the countless times he'd run his hands through it in frustration. His normally mauve lips pale and drawn. "I look like shit." He muttered.

Stepping into the massive glass enclosed shower he turned on all three shower heads to the hottest levels he could stand and just let the jets of scolding water beat at his stiff muscles.

Getting out of the shower, he quickly dried off and dressed in basketball shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, preparing to get a workout in before dressing and going into the office.

Opening his bedroom door, he was startled to come face to face with his father.

"Dad," Travis exclaimed "What are you doing here?"

"I named you after the man that saved my life and this is how you treat his daughter?" Edward Harrison screamed at his son, throwing a stack of newspapers at him. "If it weren't for Travis DeVine your sorry ass wouldn't exist."

Travis looked down at the papers and groaned seeing a few of the headlines.

"Heiress Vindicated Leaves Courthouse With A Smile"

"Young CEO Sleeps W

ith Everyone's Wife But His Own"

"Shareholder of Harrison Groups Sells Shares to Former Mrs. Harrison for $1"

"Travis Harrison Named In Several Divorce Suites as Co-Defendant"

"Harrison Group Stock Plummets After Yesterday's Courtroom Fiasco "

Bending down, Travis picked up the most relevant paper, "Morris can't sell his shares without approval." Travis scoffed.

"I approved it when he called during that dispucapble live stream those media vultures hosted of your divorce hearing." Edward growled at his son. "And whose idea was it to bring that circus into the courtroom? Not Tara's I know. She's too private a person to air your dirty laundry like that."

Travis sighed, "Tina suggested it. I agreed because I thought a gold digger like her deserved the humiliation."

Edward really wanted to slap his son, but just barely controlled the urge. " You still call her a gold digger " he shook his head, "Travis insisted keeping y'all's finances separate. Now I understand why. If you had know her net worth, I'm sure you would have found a way to bleed her dry before tossing her aside." The disgust he felt for his children at this moment was enough to make him want to reach.

"Who taught you to be such a a disgusting disgrace of a man?" Edward demanded" I tried to install honor, integrity, and loyalty in you and your sister. Obviously I failed."

With a sigh he turned towards the door, "Clean up your mess son or don't bother coming back to the house."

Mouth agape at his father's words, Travis could do nothing but watch his father leave. The court proceedings yesterday had proven to him that he did not know his ex-wife at all. She was just some woman his father had forced him to marry. He had to wander what else he didn't know, and he needed to find out what his sisters motives were to lie to him about Tara.

He groaned as he picked up the remaining newspapers. One thing he knew, his headache wouldn't be going away any time soon.