Luther’s POV
The door to my father’s office slammed open under my fist, the wood cracking at the hinges. I was done waiting. Done with the lies, the manipulations. My chest burned with fury, a fire I hadn’t felt in years.
“Luther.” His voice, cold and commanding, greeted me before I even stepped in. He sat behind his massive oak desk, the one where he made every twisted decision that ruined lives. His steely gaze met mine, but I didn’t miss the flicker of amusement in his eyes.
Conan lounged in the chair across from him, a smug grin plastered across his face like he owned the room.
“Come in, son,” my father continued, his tone deceptively calm. “You’ve got a lot on your mind, I can tell.”
I stormed inside, barely hearing his words. The air was thick with the smell of cigar smoke—his h
