ASHLEY
I should’ve spit in the wine. Just a little. Just enough for me to feel like I got something back. But no—here I am, sitting in a three-hundred-dollar chair, pretending my palms aren’t slick with sweat.
When my bastard of a father called me two days ago, I knew this would happen. I may be out of his sight but he still holds me around like I'm some pet he trained to obey him.
My relationship with him was nothing but abusive.
We hated each other.
That's a given after we've lost mom. So when he walks in—flanked by security, the restaurant pausing like the world just shifted—I brace myself.
State Senator Alaric Brooke.
My father.
Wearing one of his famous dark blue suits, the ones that match his campaign banners. Two men in tailored black trail him like shadows. His cufflinks g
