SIMON
I didn't sleep again.
I sat in the study after she left, documents still scattered across the floor, and stared at the wall for a long time. The room smelled like her perfume and terrible decisions.
I was fifty-two years old. I had built an empire from nothing through discipline and precision and the ability to make cold clear decisions under pressure. I had negotiated with governments. I had dismantled competitors without blinking.
I had just bent my stepdaughter over my desk while her mother was two hours away at a charity retreat.
I poured whiskey and didn't drink it.
The truth was simple and damning. I had known since the first night she walked into my house with fire in her eyes and bare feet and absolutely no intention of making my life easy. I had known and I had told my
