Page 72 of Broken Rivalry

There’s a brief pause, during which I can’t hear his response. But by the change in the secretary’s demeanor, I can tell it’s significant. “Yes, sir,” she says, hanging up.

She looks at me, her previous amusement replaced with a mix of curiosity and respect. “Mr. Hawthorne will see you now. Go right in.”

I nod, pushing open the heavy wooden doors to Fitzgerald Hawthorne’s office. The room is vast, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. Behind a mahogany desk sits the man himself, his sharp eyes studying me intently.

“Miss Lockwood… or Donovan now,” he greets, his voice oozing a saccharine tone. “You’ve grown up. Not the little girl I remember.”

“Time has a way of doing that,” I say sarcastically.

“To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Without another word, I set the box on his desk, the worn cardboard rough against my fingertips. “Enough with the charades, Hawthorne. This is what you had your son chasing after.”

He leans in, eyes darting to the box. A momentary uncertainty flashes across his face, but it’s swiftly overshadowed by a shrewd gleam. “How… convenient.”

I follow his pointing finger to a nondescript gray box on a nearby bookshelf. “That,” he informs, “prevents unauthorized recordings in this room.”

Ah, ever so careful… I snort. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m done.”

“With?”

“Everything.” Your son included.

He looks at the box again. “What do you want for it?”

“For you to leave us alone.”

His smirk is infuriating. “And how did Ethan persuade you to this point?”

The insinuation behind his words stings. “He didn’t. Unlike my father, I know when I’m outmatched.” The realization dawns on me, a cold pit forming in my stomach. Was this all a setup? The job for my mother, the house… Was it all merely leverage?

“Actually, I would like a few things.”

He leans back on his chair. “I’m listening, but you lost your advantage, didn’t you?” He rests his hand on the box. “I have the box now.”

“You do,” I confirm, “but you kept telling the media during my father’s trial that you are a man of principles.”

“I am.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes narrow just a fraction. “What do you want?”

“I want you to leave my family alone. Please don’t take the job from my mother or the house. Don’t do that to her.”

If I didn’t know any better, I would also say I saw some empathy in his face, but I do know better.

He nods sharply. “You have my word, but while we’re playing the honesty game. I’ll tell you a few things.”

Of course he thinks “honesty” is a game.

“Even if I wanted to destroy your new life, I couldn’t.”

I tense, somehow knowing I won’t like what he is about to say.

He smiles. “Your mother’s new job? It’s at Ethan’s company, well… the one he inherited from his grandfather. And the house?” He shrugs. “The deed is in your name.”

Disbelief washes over me. “He bought me a house?” The enormity of that truth begins to settle in.

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