Page 136 of The Plus One Contract

“You here to do errands for me again?” She tries for a sweet tone that used to work on me years ago, back when I was a kid who still believed she gave a fuck.

I lean forward, forearms on my knees. “No. I’m leaving California this afternoon, and there’s something you need to hear before I go.”

She stiffens, a flicker of nerves crossing her face. “Yeah? Then spit it out.”

“I’m cutting you off,” I say flatly. “I set you up with this house, with enough money to last you forever if you’re not reckless. That’s it. I’m done.”

Her eyes widen, a spark of rage flickering. “What do you mean, done? You can’t be done. You’re my son,” she snaps, trying for indignation, but it cracks at the edges. “Just a quick favor, baby. Or if you can’t do it now, next time you come around—”

“There won’t be a next time,” I cut in, voice tight. “I’m not doing errands for you, I’m not bailing you out. No more cross-country dress retrieval, no more ‘Simon’s car is broken’ bullshit, no more illusions that I owe you anything. We’re finished.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “It’s that bitch, isn’t it?”

My blood runs cold.

She sneers, sitting up straighter, like she’s found the root of her problem. “That girl you brought here last time. She’s got all in your head. You’re thinking with your dick.”

A slow, controlled breath pushes through my nose.

I don’t take the bait.

Not anymore.

“You’re so predictable,” she scoffs when I don’t react. “Just like your father. Thinking some woman is gonna fix you. Like she’s gonna make you a better man. Let me tell you something, Nathan, you are who you are. You’re mine. And that means—”

“That means nothing. We share blood. Nothing more.” I stand, raking a hand through my hair. “I’ve got a flight to catch.”

She scrambles upright, stumbles a little, like the half-sobriety is tipping into panic. “No, Nathan, you can’t just walk away. I need you.” Her tone tries to play on my guilt, but I’ve heard it too many times. “You’d really do this? Leave me?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Look at this place. You’re only half-sober, wallowing in your own shit. Don’t act like I’m the bad guy for finally being done.”

She opens her mouth but can’t find the words. The silence is thick, every old resentment I carry threatening to choke me.

Her face twists, her nails digging into the couch, into herself, but I see it. There’s a flicker of calculation.

She’ll figure out another angle, try to find another way to keep me tied to this place, but I won’t be here to see it.

I turn without another word, striding to the door.

As my fingers wrap around the handle, she spits, “You’ll be back.”

I don’t bother looking at her.

“No,” I say quietly, opening the door. “I won’t.”

Then I walk out.

For the first time in my fucking life, I don’t look back.

Fifty

Sienna

JFK is exactly as I remember it—loud, crowded, and slightly damp for reasons I don’t want to question.

Despite the exhaustion sitting heavy in my bones, the second I step through the automatic doors and spot her, my chest loosens for the first time in what feels like days.

Harper is standing by the arrivals gate, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, a huge grin on her face as she spots me.

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