Page 86 of Checks & Bonds

"Not what Papa wanted for you," she pressed, each word like a jab to my ribs. "Not what you think you should do for the family. What doyouwant?"

My teeth clenched involuntarily. Did I even know the answer to that question? The idea of wanting something just for myself felt foreign, almost forbidden.

"Do you even know?" Her voice softened, but the words still stung. "Because if you don't, you should figure that out first."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frustration boiling over.

She sighed, the weight of the world in her breath. "Our lawyer called me this morning," she said. "About the pictures, yes, but also about what could happen. I know Richard is making you attend a bullshit meeting about your inheritance after the Jensen fiasco scheduled the same time as your game. He's going to paint you as some angry lunatic with violent tendencies who can't control himself."

I looked away, shame creeping up my spine. The truth was, I was angry—constantly on edge.

"Carrigan says it shouldn't be enough to strip your inheritance," Minka continued. "But not showing up could put it in jeopardy because of a pattern of behavior. I'm assuming you beat the shit out of Dan this morning?"

My jaw ticked, confirming her suspicion without words.

She sighed again, deeper this time. "That'll be part of that behavior too," she said quietly.

I leaned against the counter, feeling the weight of my actions pressing down on me like a vise. Everything was spiraling out of control—my anger, my relationship with Freya, even my grip on what I wanted for myself.

Minka's hand rested on my arm again, grounding me in the moment. "Henry," she said softly but firmly, "you need to decide what you're fighting for here. If it's just for Papa's approval or the family's honor, then you're missing the point."

Her words hung in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable.

And for once, I didn't have a quick retort or a sarcastic comeback.

"Hockey," I said, letting the word hang in the air. "I've always wanted to play hockey."

Minka nodded, understanding in her eyes.

"Can I ask you something?" I turned to her. It felt odd going to my baby sister for advice. She should be the one coming to me.

She met my gaze, waiting.

"What made you get with Kennedy? After everything he did to you?"

Her brows furrowed, and she took a moment before answering. "Levi didn't release those pictures, Henry," she said quietly. "His mom and Richard did. I'm not saying what he did was right by any means, but…" She shrugged. "I guess I understood why he felt he needed to do it. The fact that he was willing to give up playing in the NHL helped too, but… I guess what it really boils down to is love. I loved him."

"That's it?" I asked flatly.

"Don't overcomplicate it," she said. "Love is reason enough. The way I look at it is, if we could survive something like that, if we could come out on the other side stronger, then… then we can survive anything. Granted, if he lays his hands on me in any way I don't like or cheats on me, I'll neuter him myself. But still." She looked at me, cocking her head to the side. "Why? Do you love Freya?"

I scoffed, but my heart wasn't in it. "I don't even know what love is," I muttered.

"Well, it's definitely not something you can control," she pointed out. "In fact, it makes you feel… out of control but perfectly aligned with who you are. I don't know if that makes sense."

"It doesn't," I said flatly.

"I hope you figure it out," she told me, her voice softening. "Because you deserve to be loved, Henry. Even if you are a dick."

I looked away, her words settling into the silence between us.

"So," Minka said, her voice cutting through the silence. "What are you going to do?"

I looked at her, feeling the weight of her question pressing down on me. "I don't know," I admitted, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

"I'm here," she said softly, her eyes searching mine. "If you need anything."

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything more. The air between us felt charged, thick with unspoken emotions and unresolved tensions. Without saying another word, I turned and headed towards the west wing, my steps echoing through the empty halls.

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