Page 56 of Cold Carnage

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “He seemed to recognize Miss Adams. He’s in her office.”

For a second, everything around me blurred. My father here? Of all days? I swallowed hard, trying to push down the memories that threatened to resurface.

Nodding curtly at Sandra, I turned on my heel and made my way towards Paige’s office, each step feeling heavier than the last.

My pulse quickened as I approached Paige’s office, a knot tightening in my gut. What could they possibly be talking about? The thought of my father, with his polished charm and calculated words, conversing with Paige sent a shiver down my spine.

I pushed the door open without knocking. My father stood there, all smiles and smooth edges, leaning casually against Paige’s desk. Paige sat behind it, her face illuminated by the morning light streaming through the window. She wore a fitted blazer that accentuated her shoulders, her hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes sparkled as she returned my father’s smile, her lips curving up in a way that made something inside me twist painfully.

“Ryker,” my father greeted, his voice dripping with the kind of warmth I knew was reserved for his public persona. “I was just catching up with Miss Adams here. You didn't tell me you worked together.” There was a warning in his tone, an accusation.

Paige glanced at me, the smile lingering on her face but faltering slightly at my presence. “Mr. Kane was just sharing some stories about your and Brendan's childhood,” she said, her tone light but cautious.

I hated the look on his face, hated all of it. The ease with which he charmed people, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make someone feel special. I couldn’t stand seeing him here, invading my space, making himself comfortable in my life where he didn’t belong.

“Stories,” I echoed, barely able to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Paige’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read—pity? Curiosity? It didn’t matter. I focused on my father’s smug expression instead.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

My father straightened up, his polished demeanor never wavering. "Now, son," he began, his tone measured and patronizing. "After what happened this summer, I came to see what's gotten into you."

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the doorframe. "And what exactly do you think has gotten into me?"

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Your behavior has been erratic, to say the least. The outbursts, the attitude—it's not how I raised you."

"Maybe I'm tired of playing by your rules," I shot back, feeling the familiar burn of anger rise within me.

He shook his head, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips. "This isn't about rules, Ryker. This is about responsibility. You've been given an opportunity most people would kill for, and you're squandering it."

"Squandering it?" I repeated, incredulous. "I'm doing my job. The team is performing well. What more do you want from me?"

"It's not just about the team," he replied, his voice growing sterner. "It's about how you carry yourself. Your image reflects on more than just you—it reflects on the family, on everything we've built."

I could feel Paige's eyes on me, watching our exchange with a mix of curiosity and concern. Her presence only added fuel to the fire.

"And here we go," I muttered under my breath.

My father ignored my comment and pressed on. "Your outburst at the bar last month? With a fan? Completely unacceptable. You embarrassed yourself and this family."

"That was a misunderstanding," I argued. "I'm handling it."

"A misunderstanding that could cost your team significant donors," he countered.

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my temper in check. "So this is all about money to you."

"It's about reputation," he corrected sharply. "It's about maintaining the standards we've set."

"Your standards," I spat out.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Standards that have gotten us where we are today."

I felt my fists clench at my sides, the urge to lash out almost overwhelming. But Paige's presence kept me grounded.

"Look," my father said after a moment of silence, his tone softening slightly as if he could read my thoughts. "I'm not here to fight with you. I'm here because I care about your future. You're capable of so much more than this self-destructive path you're on."

"Self-destructive?" I scoffed. "It was one fight. One."

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