Chapter 73
With a dramatic groan, I hauled my bag over my shoulder and made my way upstairs. My room was just as I had left it, despite the remodeling throughout the house. Thank God.
Dad had called me about the renovations, and I had told him not to touch my room. I was glad he listened.
The library, the huge bed, the fireplace, the small sitting area, and the soft Persian rug in the center—it was all exactly as I had left it. In the city, I embraced modern design, but here, I wanted this.
The familiar scent of aged wood and a faint trace of vanilla lingered in the air and for a moment, I let nostalgia take me. Life was much simpler then.
I barely had time to soak it all in before my phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen. Dad.
With a sigh, I answered. "Hello?"
"You're home?" His voice, deep and authoritative, carried a trace of fatigue.
"Yeah. Just got in."
He exhaled sharply. "Good. We need to talk. South Carolina was a mess. No one in the office had a spine while I was gone. Do you know how many deals were nearly botched? If I don’t have a competent representative soon, I—"
I leaned against the edge of my bed, listening as he vented his frustrations. This was familiar, too—his endless tirades about the business, about how no one could ever meet his standards. I waited, grateful that we hadn't yet veered into more personal topics. For now, it was just business, and business was safe.
When he finally returned home later that evening, I felt an odd tension settle in my chest. It had been months since I had last seen him in person. And now, knowing my real reason for coming home—knowing that my presence here would inevitably break his heart and expectations—I wasn’t sure how to face him.
But he made it easy.
He knocked on my door.
For a moment, I hesitated before opening it. The second I did, he pulled me into a firm embrace.
"I’m glad you’re back, son." His voice was rough with emotion, but his grip was steady, as if trying to anchor me in place. "You rascal, why stay away from home so long?"
I managed a smirk, raising my hands in mock surrender. "I’ve been busy. But the important thing is, I’m here now. Just like you wanted."
He stepped back, studying me with a look I couldn't quite decipher. And then, just as suddenly, he dropped a bombshell.
"By next week, I’ll retire."
I stared at him, my stomach twisting.
Retirement meant one thing—he expected me to take his place.
And he had no idea what I was about to do.
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