/0/98084/coverbig.jpg?v=c1e89a3072a261e33f813fd176370a20)
nd built an empire for, was forcing me to kneel on f
nfluencer named Kassie, who had moved into our
torturing him over his hobby of building birdhouses, t
for dead in the path of a
o be mauled, I realized the man I l
forgotten: the ironclad prenup that gave me a controlling interest in his billion-dollar company
pte
Palme
uilt an empire for, was forcing me to kneel on a bag of
t-four frame casting a long shadow in the pristine, white-on-white kitchen of our Silicon Valley mansion.
t him. Not
hian mountain road. He' d had nothing but a half-baked tech idea and a death wish. My father, Alph, and I had pulled him from the wrecka
anger, was a creation. His creator
ith millions of followers who hung on her every sanctimonious word. Fitzgerald had met her at a tech conference
site that was devouri
wool. And absolutely, positively, no animal products in the house. Our home, once filled with the smells o
s I' d endured to help build his company, Nexus Corp, couldn' t handle the abrupt, rad
finger and sworn he would spend his life repaying me for saving his. This morning, a wave of defiant nos
seen me. And she
pants, a biting, painful ache that spread from my knees up my thighs.
nook. She was perched on a stool, filming the whole thing on her phone, a small, cruel smile playing on her perfectly pl
zgerald. My eyes were a silent plea. F
blue eyes that had once looked at me with such raw gr
a warning. "She is trying to teach you. To elevate you.
ting to go numb, the pain turni
"Kassie is the future. Her values are my values. If you want to re
as trapped in my throat,
od up and looked at the housekeeper, a woman whose childr
manded. "If she moves before it goe
houlders. He kissed her temple, a gesture of affection so public
ital timer on the counter. The first second ticked by with an audible click
stayed not out of obedience, but out of a desperate, foolish hop
in his retirement hobby: building intricate, beautiful birdhouses. He had a chronic heart conditi
raight to voicemail. I had been frantic, calling the police, call
d up a hand. "I' ll handle it, Adella. I have resourc
es, the tech billionaire who controlled everything, was my only hope of finding my father. I had to believe he would f
d weights I could barely feel. The housekeeper, avoiding my eyes, helped me to my
itzgerald. I snatched it up, my he
pped and devoid of emotion. "I' m send
it made me dizzy. "Oh, thank God
car, Adella." T
tark, windowless warehouse on the industrial outskirts of the city. The kind of pl
his arms crossed over his chest. Kassie stood
, Fitz? Where
down a long, sterile corridor. The air was frigid, humming with theen I s
, the same hands that had taught me to ride a bike and had built hundreds of delicate birdhouses, were bound behindlay one of his beautiful bi
ord was a stra
onfusion. "Adella? Honey, I don' t know wh
n' t know I possessed surging through me.
He just sipped from a bottle o
ping with condescending pity. "Your father is a
mprehending. "What a
o become dependent on artificial structures. It disrupts their natural migratory patterns. It' s
o profound it stole my breath. "He
head as if dealing with a difficult child. "Fitzgerald is
whose life my father had helped save. "Fitz," I begged, my voice crackin
like looking at a stranger. "He needed to understand the consequences of his
tearing from my throat. "You' re tortur
nights in our first tiny apartment, me rubbing his back as he coded, my stomach in knots from stress and cheap wine I drank at networking events to
d for
ion was a raw, open wound.
is face. "Kassie has shown me a higher path. A purer way of living
. About my father. We w
, he' d called it. He said Kassie was his soulmate, his twin flame, but that I would alway
could d
er. My menus were replaced with her plant-based edicts. My belongings were slowly moved to a smaller wing o
r away from them, if I could just appeal to that shred of humanity left
so n
but Fitzgerald grabbed my arm, his grip
my phone. He snatched it from my hand and thr
t Kassie in the face. She let out a theatrical shriek,
broke my nose
d her face in his hands, his voice thick with panic. "Baby, are you okay? Let me see. Oh, God." He gl
s if she were a fragile doll and
scrambling after them. "My father
her nose is broken, she needs a real doctor, not just your private medic. If we take her to the hospital, p
. A public incident was the o
of fury. "Fine," he spat. "Yo
wo of his security guards appeared. They
oor, my heart in
s. His face was a ghastly shade of gray. The hea
to my knees beside him, my hands hovering
rald said coldly. "They' ll take care of him. An
impersonal professionals. But as they loaded my fathe
ture at worst. This man is in cardiac arrest. We need
e. "You will take them both to my private
ould die!" the
rld collapsing around me, and his eyes were completely empty. "Adella," he said, his
im, my vision bl
day. And you will go to the police and confess. You will tell them your father got co
r' s life in exchange for m
, something inside me finally, irrevocably, snapped. All the love, the h
y' s kindness, my unwavering loyalty. I had built him an empir
ord tasting like ash in my
he ground to save my father. But as I watched them load him into the bac
Fitzgerald Jones's empire turn to dust in his h

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