Page 26 of Broken Rivalry

“Yes, listen to your mother. For once, she has something of value to contribute,” he adds, and my mother doesn’t even flinch or look annoyed at my father’s cold snub.

I grit my teeth as my father watches me, a silent understanding passing between us. He knows I’m aware there’s more to the story, and I know he’s not going to divulge anything willingly.

The rest of the dinner passes in tense silence as I realize that I suffered their company for nothing, and the worst part is that now I put Poppy on my father’s radar, and I wonder if my visit is not a huge mistake after all.

My father pushes back his chair, the sound grating against the marble floor, and stands. “Ethan, join me in the office for a drink before you head back to Silverbrook.”

I nod, standing and turning to my mother. “Good night, Mother,” I say, placing a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. Her eyes, though cold, flicker with a momentary warmth as she nods a silent goodbye.

I follow my father to his office, a room that always seems to embody his personality—cold, meticulous, and domineering. The walls, lined with shelves of books and awards, seem to close in on me, a physical manifestation of the pressure I always feel in his presence.

He moves to the bar, pouring a small glass of scotch and extending it toward me. I hesitate, eyeing the glass warily. “I’m only nineteen, Father.”

He scoffs, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ethan, I know you’ve been pilfering my liquor since you were sixteen. If you want to be treated like a man, act like one.”

Reluctantly, I take the glass, the amber liquid shimmering under the soft lighting of the room. I take a small sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol, but I keep my face smooth.

My father leans against his desk, regarding me with that calculating gaze that always seems to see too much. “Why the sudden interest in Poppy Lockwood?”

I pause, choosing my words carefully. “They seem to be having a rough time. They’re not their father, and it doesn’t seem fair that they’re suffering for his mistakes.”

He gives a slight tilt of his head, a silent prompt to continue.

I add a half-truth. “I won’t be seeing her again.”

To my surprise, he shakes his head. “Actually, you should. If she wants to see you, why not?”

Suspicion prickles at the back of my mind. “What do you want out of it?” I ask, my voice steady despite the unease coiling in my stomach.

He laughs, a sound devoid of genuine mirth. “Oh, you know me well. There’s a box of documents that Alan had that we never recovered.”

“You want the box.”

“I want the box.”

I nod, a plan already forming in the back of my mind. The box means nothing to me, but if it gives me a reason to be closer to Poppy, to perhaps right some wrongs, I’ll play along. “I’ll get you the box.”

He nods, a semblance of approval flickering in his eyes. “Good. Remember, Ethan, everything in life is transactional. Always ensure you’re getting the better deal.”

I nod, the motion mechanical, as a bitter taste creeps up my throat. His words, laced with perpetual strategy and manipulation, weave a future before me that I’m desperate to unravel. I finish the scotch in one swallow, the burn doing little to dispel the chill that’s settled over me.

Placing the empty glass on his desk, I turn and leave the office, the weight of my father’s expectations heavy on my shoulders. As I step out into the cool night air, I breathe in deeply, trying to shake off the oppressive atmosphere of the house.

In the quiet of the night, I make a silent vow to myself—I will not become my father, and Poppy is a treasure that I feel I’m discovering all over again. Her strength, her defiance against a world that’s been so cruel to her, stands in sharp relief against the compliance I’ve always shown.

The decision is made: I will protect Poppy from becoming collateral in my father’s unending pursuit of power, and I will pursue her whether he approves or not.

Chapter 10

Poppy

Aweek has passed since Ethan handed me that Lego set for my brother, and he’s stubbornly embedded in my thoughts. Every night, as I lie in bed, I wrestle with the images of his kind eyes and gentle demeanor, so different from the bully I knew in school. His sudden shift leaves me navigating through skepticism and gratitude, questioning every look, every gesture. Is it genuine, or is it all only veiled pity? I’d rather face his stupid pranks like he did in high school than become a charity case.

Despite our history of fights and his mocking jabs, I’ve always had a weird kind of fondness for Ethan. Our verbal spats, strangely enough, were something I looked forward to, a constant in my otherwise chaotic life. That’s probably why his harsh words, spoken when I was at my lowest, hurt so much. His cruelty that day was a departure from our usual playful banter.

Dragging myself home from my shift, my mind whirls with thoughts of Ethan and his unexpected invitation to the varsity ball. It’s crucial to unravel these tangled emotions, and my roommates are the only ones I can imagine doing that with, without fear of judgment.

“Eva? Nessa?” My voice echoes in the quiet space as I toe off my sneakers and rest my bag on the floor. I deposit my tips into the food jar, a small relief that I don’t need to borrow from the girls this week. Grabbing a bottle of apple juice from the fridge, I call again, “Girls?”

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