Ryan’s POV
The storm broke inside Ashbrook Towers long before thunder ever touched the sky.
Jonathan Ashbrook’s footsteps thundered down the polished marble corridor that led to his son’s private wing. His cane tapped with each stride, not from need but from habit, from the weight of fury that burned through his veins. He didn’t knock. He never did when he was angry. He pushed the heavy doors open with a force that rattled the frames.
Ryan sat at his desk in his home office, his tie loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up, staring at documents he wasn’t reading. He looked up slowly, already bracing himself.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jonathan barked, slamming a folder onto the desk. Bank statements, receipts, clippings from last night’s headlines, all scattered across the ma
