Page 157 of The Rogue and His Flower

“You fucking shit!” he growls, reaching up to touch his nose as he stares at me, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he rocks on his feet and grasps the back of his chair to keep himself steady.

"I won't be controlled by you a second fucking longer," I say, my voice thick with anger. "This is over."

“The hell it is!” he counters, reaching for the contract and waving it in front of my face as blood drips from his nose. “This contract and a debt of eight-point-five fucking million states otherwise.”

I snatch it from him, then rip the contract in half, throwing it on the table. “It’s over. You’ll have all your money by the end of the month. In fact, I can give you five million now as an act ofgoodwill,” I retort, smirking as his face pales.

“You don’t have that kind of money.”

“It will be in your account in a few hours. The rest will follow. Daisy and I are done with you,” I say, rounding the table and taking Daisy’s hand in mine. “You okay?”

“I’m more than okay,” she replies, rising onto her tiptoes as she kisses me. “I’m so proud of you.”

“If you walk out of that door, you will no longer be my son. I will cut you off. You will live a life of a fucking pauper!” my father warns.

I let out a bitter laugh. “I was never your son. I was only ever your property. That ends today. Daisy and I will make our own way, and we will show you that love is far greater than any amount of wealth. So go ahead, cut me off. It’s a debt I’d gladly pay to be free of you!”

“You’ll come running back, and when you do, don’t expect anything from me!” he shouts back.

Gripping Daisy’s hand, we walk over to the door, opening it. I throw one last look over my shoulder and say, “Goodbye,Carl. I hope you enjoy spending the rest of your days alone, and when you realise you’ve lost everything worth living for, because believe me that day will come, don't expect any sympathy from me.”

With that, Daisy and I walk out of his office, leaving behind not only my inheritance, but also the toxic relationship that has plagued me for years. I feel a rush of freedom, of empowerment, knowing that we are now in control of our future, and feeling all the more richer for it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

DAISY

“Sterling, these are utterly beautiful,” I exclaim, my gaze coasting over the exquisite artwork that adorns the walls of the art gallery in London.

There are fourteen paintings in total, each of them as stunning as the last. Swirls of bright pinks, greens, blues and yellows, turquoise, red and oranges, all shaping Harlow’s features into a beautiful mosaic of emotions. The brushstrokes capture her essence in the curve of her smile, the depth of her eyes, and the tilt of her head as she throws her head back and sings. It’s clear that each painting is an intense labour of love, a silent confession of his feelings for her.

Sterling smiles modestly. “Thank you. Though I’m honestly glad to see the back of them,” he says, his smile faltering as we both stare at the huge ten by ten foot canvas hanging on the wall in front of us, each colourful brushstroke a testament to the emotions he’s hidden from the woman he loves.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because they’re a reminder of the one thing I cannot have,” he says quietly, swiping a hand through his hair.

“Is Harlow coming tonight?”

“No, I didn’t invite her.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Honestly, because I’m not sure how she’d react to the fact that her face is on every single one of these canvases,” he adds with a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, a smile that carries the weight of his feelings.

“I’m sorry it’s been so difficult for you,” I say, pressing my fingers against his arm.

“It is what it is,” he shrugs. “How are things going anyway? I hear Carl needed his nose reset after Dalton punched him.”

He smiles, and I grin. “It was no more than he deserved.”

“Oh, I know. That man has had it coming for a long time.”

“He has, and things are great between Dalton and me. We’ve unpacked the last of our belongings at the flat and are settling in,” I reply, glancing over at Dalton who’s chatting with Lia and Drix, feeling a sense of contentment settle in my chest. “We’re finally finding our rhythm and are creating a home together, and that’s partly down to you. I’m so grateful for what you’ve done for us.”

“You’re welcome, Daisy. Dalton and Drix have been good friends to me over the years. I wanted to help.”

“We will pay you back. I promise,” I say.

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