Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Send him up,” I practically growl, walking to the window.
“Uh, okay,” Ethan mutters, clearly sensing my dark mood, but knowing better than to question it.
I haven’t seen Sebastian in years, since before my father died. He vanished off the face of the earth after stealing my family's fortune.
Uncle Seb walks into my office like he owns it. He’s a tall man, bald, head dotted here and there with liver spots. He leans on a cane with a silver pommel carved into a wolf’s head. His suit is immaculate, pin-striped, and tailored to his firm build.
“Beautiful offices,” he mutters, tapping his cane on the floor. “Not quite what I would’ve chosen, little man, but beautiful nonetheless.”
Little man. That was what he called me when he first entered our life, before he ruined it, before he killed my mother and father without laying a finger on them.
“May I sit?” he asks.
I keep my face neutral as I walk to my side of the desk, then gesture at him. “Go ahead, Goodfellow.”
He smirks at the emphasis, then takes a seat, resting his cane against my desk.
“I understand your frustration,” he says.
I shrug. “Frustration? There’s nothing like losing your inheritance to a two-faced snake to give a man the motivation required to make even more money.”
He inclines his head. “I must admit, little man, you’ve done exceedingly well for yourself, especially when you consider, as you say, where you started. It must’ve been very difficult to put it all behind you and focus on your work.”
I never put it behind me, but I’m not going to tell him that. He clearly wants a rise from me, hence the little man stuff.
“Hmm,” I mutter, shrugging.
“You’ve become the strong, silent type in your old age, then?” he says, reaching into his inside jacket pocket and placing an envelope on the table.
“Is this the part when I ask what that is?” I grunt.
“I thought you’d be curious,” he says.
I grind my teeth. “Just spit it out, old man.”
He laughs, delighted at my outburst. I curl my hands into fists, promising myself it won’t happen again, hoping it’s true.
“Your bloodline—”
“My bloodline?” I cut in. “How medieval of you.”
“It’s sick,” he goes on, shrugging. “It’s twisted. None of you deserves to be happy. Not your father, nor your mother. And definitely not you.”
“I think you’re forgetting who bankrupted whom,” I snap. “We weren’t the ones who infiltrated your family and stole your business.”
“That was business,” Sebastian hisses. “But what came after? That was just downright ugly.”
“Why haven’t I been able to find you?” I say. “I’ve hired private investigators in the past.”
“Goodfellow,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows. “If you haven’t worked it out by now—”
“It’s a false name,” I interrupt.
“Ten points to the little man,” he goads, drumming his fingers against the envelope. “I had to use different names back in the day. I was still building my empire, you see. But I struck it big. I am now a proud—silent—shareholder in the megacorporation which owns a little outfit called Pike Construction… among other interests.”
My head spins. “You own Wonder Worldwide?”
His smug grin is infuriating. He wriggles his eyebrows like a proud little prick. “I’m sixty-seven years old, and I’ve spent my entire life working hard so that I’d have enough capital for a serious investment, and it seems that fate was on my side when I chose this company. I couldn’t have planned any of this.”
“Any of what?” I say, my patience wearing thin, my head spinning with a thousand things I want to do, most of which involve hurting the old bastard. Physically. Emotionally. Financially. However, I can.
“The connection,” he says proudly. “To you. To this goliath you’ve built. I never would’ve guessed or dreamt that we’d be like this.” He raises his hand, showing me his intertwined fingers. “What about you, little man?”
My temples are pulsing viciously. Knowing Goodfellow—or whatever the prick’s name is—he’s probably got people waiting outside just in case I do what I want. Or he’s secretly recording this. He must have some way to ensure I don’t tear his head off.
“Okay, so you’re pulling Aaron Pike’s puppet strings,” I snarl. “Big deal. What do you want, then, a pat on the back? Do you want me to congratulate you?”
“I want you to open this,” he grunts, picking up the envelope and tossing it at me.
I catch it midair, glaring at him. He clearly intended the envelope to hit me. I open it. I have to know what’s inside, even if it means playing his fucked-up game. He’s bouncing on the spot with anticipation, drumming his fingers against the desk like he’s wild with glee.
When I tip the contents out, I immediately know what they are. My entire world turns dark and bleak. Or perhaps it’s just returning to normal.
There they are… the fake accounts I put on the memory drive, Izzy’s memory drive, the test I gave her that first day because I’m a paranoid man. I always wondered if the plan would ever reveal a traitor. I never expected it to be the only woman I—