I walk into Four Fathers, primed in my navy suit holding the financial file for the warehouse deal. Everything is set for the start of the sale today. “Who’s in?” I ask the receptionist.

“Morning, Mr. Blackstone. Everyone’s here. Just waiting on the seller. Conference room is all set up.” I nod, walking away.

“Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Eric says as I walk past him. He’s wearing a cocky ass smirk on his face. “Care to explain where you’ve been?”

“No,” I reply, walking into my office. Dropping the folder, I remove my suit jacket and hang it on the coat rack.

“Has to be something—or someone—keeping you away and forgetting your responsibilities to this company.”

It’s been me hitting rock bottom and relapsing. Two weeks of long nights running, even longer days pacing, destroying my mind with thoughts, reasonings. Not enough sessions with Dr. Winters will cure what Lucy did to me. I raise my head, giving him my full attention. “It’s nothing. Not anymore. Fucking drop it.”

“I won’t when I feel my business is affected—”

“OUR BUSINESS. Our fucking business. I’m sick of you acting like you’re the one in charge here. You may have saved my ass a long time ago, but I’ve more than repaid my debts to you, so fuck off. And stay the fuck out of my business.”

Eric’s eyes are a ball of fire. No one speaks to him that way. Not even me. But I’m done. The counting starts, and I know no matter how bad I fight it, I can’t hide it.

“You’re not focused. I’m just trying to look out for you. You need to see Dr. Wint—”

“I AM SEEING HER! I SEE HER EVERY FUCKING DAY! Christ! I’m fucked up, can’t you just deal with it? What I have is a curse, not a gift. A fucking curse.” I slam my hands down on my desk, dropping my head.

I’m so tired of being this way. My money allows me access to any medical resources out there and nothing can be done to scrape my brain to rid me of this disease. That’s what it is—what it’s always been. I thought I found a cure. She was going to be my savior. I let my guard down, and she fucking tricked me. I refuse to admit how deep I felt for her. But she had me fooled. The only way I know to get past this is to allow the anger to guide me. I’m not a man who allows some little girl to pull one on me. No, I plan on showing her the same courtesy by taking away something she loves, as she did me. Any idea of stopping the sale of her Gran’s house is off the table. If she thought she could lure me in with lies, then she has another thing coming to her.

Eric approaches me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll get through this. Forget about her. Focus on the next two weeks and let’s close this deal. Then we’ll celebrate. A huge barbeque at my house. I’ll have a shit ton of women ready and willing to praise you for your good work. Plus, the boys will be there. Nixon has been asking to spend some time with you.”

I take a few deep breaths to reign in my anger. I shouldn’t take my shit out on Eric. He has nothing to do with Lucy deceiving me. I nod, letting him know I’ll be fine. My full attention is back to where it’s always been: Four Fathers. Nothing else.

* * *

Eric’s ridiculous barbeque is in full effect. And ridiculous is putting it mildly. The motherfucker has no boundaries when spending his money. Normally he grills his own burgers, but since he’s trying to impress clients, he’s gone all out. The Kobe burger I just ate was wrapped in a gold leaf, for crying out loud. Not to mention the Foie gras, lobster, truffles, and caviar being carted around by a full staff. The asshole has a grill that costs more than his car—just another way to let people know he’s got more money than God.

It took the full two weeks to close the warehouse deal. Eric was pleased to see the numbers skyrocket. Four Fathers’ stock went through the roof. The transaction more than tripled our profit margin, and that’s just for the upcoming year. We have our eye on another warehouse that will completely wipe out our competition. And I have no doubt we will. Eric doesn’t like anyone being better than him.

I’m standing outside by the pool swirling a fifty-year old Macallan Sherrywood scotch when Nixon, Eric’s second to youngest son, approaches me. At fifteen, the kid is every bit as tall as me and damn near as thick too.

“Hey, sorry about that. I know my dad can be a prick.” Just moments before, I had to break up an altercation between him and his dad. They’ve never seen eye to eye, and since I’ve always been close with Eric, Nixon has always seemed to gravitate toward me more.

“Don’t worry about it. Your dad is a prick.” We both laugh while staring out at the full pool of family and work staff.

“Hey, Uncle Trev?” he turns to me. “Can I ask you something? What’s it like? Having to live with the constant chattering in your head? Does it ever stop? Get better?”

I turn to him, looking into his green eyes. Nixon is nothing like his father. He’s a great kid, excelling in school. We’ve always shared a bond Eric and him never did, and I know Eric despises me in some way for it. I consider his question—a question that may lead to more. I have no interest in getting in the middle of that shit storm.

“I’m not sure—”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, gaining my attention. I pull it out and see Clara calling. “Give me a second, son.” I take a few steps away from Nixon and answer.

“What do you have for me?”

“Mr. Blackstone, you told me to call when she returned. It seems she arrived at the house about an hour ago.”

“Start the process. Everything I have set up. I want the meeting set for tomorrow morning. First thing.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hang up, my grip threatening to crush the device in my hand. I knew she’d come back. It was only a matter of time before she needed that money. The anger I’ve fought to keep at bay returns, and I welcome it. I refuse to let my still deep, lingering feelings for her cloud my judgement. The anger is the exact fuel I need to follow through with my plans. She’s going to sign that contract, and I’m going to bulldoze that shit house before the ink is even dry. Right before her eyes.

Being deprived of sleep, I've pushed myself, working out night and day, swimming, running the beach—anything to keep my mind off her. At first, I convinced myself it was all a mistake. She would come back with an explanation and things would be fine. I would force her to move in with me, so I never had to be without her. We would start making serious plans. When days passed, then weeks, I knew I had to accept it. She wasn’t coming back. But now she’s back, and my mind is quickly filling with confusion. The fact that I will have to see her. Want to touch her. Claim her. But it’s the reminder that she’s not mine, nor does she want to be, that drives that hate. Revenge.

“Everything okay, Uncle Trevor?”

I walk past Nixon. “Just fine, son. Tell your dad I had to take care of some business. I’ll see you around.”

I leave the barbeque, a formulation of numbers exploding in my head—all possible outcomes of the look on her face once I destroy the one thing she holds dear. Just like she destroyed my heart.

* * *

I pull into my driveway and notice a car parked next door. I know she doesn’t have a car. Who the fuck is over there? She could be with someone. Another man—

I shake my head and pop a mixture of Xanax and valium. I can’t allow my head to fuck this up. I jump out of my car and walk over, feeling the coldness settle in my blood. I thought about how it would be to see her again. Made sure the hatred stayed at the front of my mind so I can do what needs to be done. I don’t bother knocking, and wrap my hand around the doorknob, throwing the fraying door open.

“I just don’t understand—”

Her words are cut off by the sound of my intrusion. She turns to face me.

“What do you want?” she snaps, like I’m the enemy here. Then again, I’m about to be. “Did you do this?” she asks as a boy turns the corner from the bedroom.

“It’s an old house. People break into dumps like this all the time.”

Her eyes light up. She’s hurt. She drops a broken frame back to the ground where she found it. “I’m sure they do. So, should I assume all robberies around here are done by muscled psychopaths?” My fingers twitch, fighting not to grab her and wrap my hand around her neck at her choice of words. “What, have nothing to say? Or was this your ploy to make it easier for me to sign the contract? Trash the place so I’d have to come back? Coerce me some more to move up the closing?” I don’t know what the fuck she’s referring to, but her accusations are stirring up the rage inside me. “You know what? I’ll fucking sign your contract. You can take the house. I don’t care. You won. But give me back my Gran’s letter.” She kicks the rubble at her feet when the little shit comes to her aid.

“Luce, calm down.” She takes in a deep breath, falling into his embrace. My eyes see red at the way she’s letting him touch her.

“Who the fuck are you? Her new fucktoy?”

“Fuck you, Trevor!” she spits, trying to come at me, but her lover holds her back.

“Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

I take a predatory step closer to them. “I’d be careful of this one, son. She’s a snake—"

Lucy comes at me again, but the kid pushes her to the side. “You better watch it, asshole. Why don’t you go mess with someone your own age? Practically be her fucking dad—”

I swing and punch the fucking shit. He stumbles back as Lucy screams. I move to go after him when Lucy steps between us, throwing her small hands to my chest.

“Stop! Get out of here! You’ve done enough. You win! You fucking win! I’ll sign your damn contract. Just please give me back Gran’s letter.”

She’s crying.

My hands begin to shake.

The overdose of pills I popped does nothing as I begin reciting number after number. “Leave, Trevor. Just get out and leave me alone.” She doesn’t pay me another thought as she bends down to console her new boyfriend.

I brush my hands down my face, trying to get control. Two deep breaths, and I speak. “Be at Four Fathers first thing tomorrow morning for the closing. After we close, you can have your letter.”

I don’t wait for her to reply. Just watching the tears fall down her porcelain cheeks is enough to ruin a man. I turn and walk out.