Page 74 of Broken Rivalry

Suspicion clouds my mind. This isn’t like him. He’s probably buttering me up for that damned box. His obsession with it is growing, even resorting to midnight calls. I won’t betray Poppy or hand over the box. Maybe I’ll tell him she destroyed it.

Part of me also wonders what could be so damaging, and maybe I should play karmic revenge and help take down my father.

No, even I’m not cunning enough to pull that one off, I silently refute.

Try admitting that you don’t want your name tarnished. My conscience bites, and I feel a little shame.

Maybe I can make amends another way. Maybe once Poppy and I are married—I freeze with the glass halfway to my lips.

Where did that thought come from? Poppy ran away from me because admitting she loves me is too much, and I’m thinking about putting my ring on her finger.

I’m getting as delusional as Cole.

I can’t help but laugh at the thought, earning a wary look from the hostess. Time, Ethan, she needs time. You’ve loved her for six years, and she’s barely loved you for six weeks.

I pull the cover over me and pop a low-dose sleeping pill. It’s a tactic I’ve used before to ensure I’m alert upon landing and to fend off the inevitable jet lag from such a brief trip. The hum of the plane’s engines lulls me into a restless sleep.

Waking up to the voice of the pilot, I immediately check my phone, hoping for a message from Poppy. Nothing. The empty screen amplifies my anxiety. I’m tempted to send another message, but I resist the urge as the plane begins its descent.

As the plane touches down, a sleek luxury car is already waiting for me on the tarmac. I descend the stairs, and the driver holds the door open for me. The car’s plush interior does little to comfort my agitated mind. As we drive through Zurich, it is unfurled below as the car weaves through its streets. The city is a blend of modern and historical elements, with sleek glass buildings reflecting the sky, standing shoulder to shoulder with centuries-old stone structures. The Limmat River flows serenely, its banks dotted with locals enjoying the day, while the distant snow-capped peaks of the Alps stand as silent sentinels. But it is all blurred into the background, my thoughts consumed by the proposal and Poppy.

Sunlight reflects off the FIFA headquarters’ modern facade. Inside, flags and iconic soccer photographs adorn the vast lobby. The murmur of conversations in multiple languages fills the air, a testament to the global nature of the sport.

Upon reaching the reception doors, a short, portly man greets me with a firm handshake. “Mr. Hawthorne, welcome. We’ve arranged your stay at The Grand Hotel, a five-star palace. We can review the slides for Monday’s meeting with the FIFA representative there.”

I frown. “There must be some mistake. I’m flying back today.”

He looks genuinely confused and hands me an agenda. “This was approved by Fitzgerald Hawthorne,” he says, pointing to the week-long schedule filled with meetings, including some with Premier League team leaders.

I scan the document, my heart rate quickening. This isn’t what I agreed to. I had planned a quick trip, not an entire week away from Poppy. I force a smile, not wanting to show my growing anger. “Is there an office I can use momentarily?”

He nods, leading me to a spacious room with a large desk and a view of the city. The room is bathed in gentle natural light filtering through the large windows, offering a panoramic view of Zurich. A massive oak desk sits in the center, its surface gleaming. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with trophies, footballs, and framed photos of iconic moments in soccer history. The room exudes power and prestige.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I sit and dial my father’s number. It rings twice before he answers.

“Ethan,” his voice oozes a mock innocence that sets my teeth on edge.

“What’s your game, Dad?” My voice is sharp, edged with frustration.

“Just ensuring you make the most of this opportunity.”

“This isn’t what we discussed. I told you I’d be back today.”

“You need to build relationships, Ethan. This is how business is done.”

“I had other plans,” I snap, my mind flashing to Poppy.

“You always do,” he retorts. “But sometimes, you need to prioritize.”

I exhale, trying to rein in my anger. “You could’ve informed me.”

“And risk you declining? I know you too well.”

I clench my fist, anger bubbling. “I’ll find a way back.”

“How? You don’t have access to the plane if I don’t want you to, and let me guess, I’m pretty sure your passport is still in the safe there.”

I tighten my hand in a tight fist. “Watch me!”

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