Page 127 of Fixing to Be Mine

“There’s no fallout,” I say. “There’s truth. And I’m done letting you decide how much of it gets to exist. I’m done with the cover-up stories. Did you know Skye was sleeping with Donovan behind my back? What has been said about me online makes me seem like the villain, and I will not tolerate the smear campaign against my name. I will not be made out to be somejealous woman who had cold feet. I’ve already begun destroying that narrative, which I’m sure you’re aware of.”

My father doesn’t react right away.

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him like this is another negotiation, like we’re haggling over a line item instead of the truth that wrecked my life.

“I assumed that you’d come here to speak calmly. Strategically. With real solutions.”

“Leaving is my solution,” I snap.

He doesn’t flinch. Of course he doesn’t. He’s been in too many rooms like this, too many crisis meetings, where the goal was never truth; it was silence.

“I was the one being lied to,” I continue. “You made me seem unhinged with those headlines. Do you know what it’s like to lose everything and still have to sit back and let your own family feed the narrative that you’re unstable, dramatic, and difficult?”

He says nothing. He’s watching me now, not as a daughter, but as a threat. I know too much. I’m dangerous.

“I’m not asking for your blessing,” I explain. “I’m giving you a warning. The next time I see my name associated with cold feet or a breakdown, I will take it personally. And I will not protect this firm. I will not protectyou.”

“That’s not necessary?—”

“No,” I cut him off. “It’s well overdue. So, fix what you broke.”

I step closer to the desk, placing my palms flat against the surface. “Skye betrayed me. Donovan humiliated me. And you—this firm—allowed the world to think I’d unraveled. They laughed at me. I was picked apart for sport in the media.”

“I didn’t know about them,” he finally confesses.

The words land quieter than I expected, and it almost stuns me.

He leans back slightly in his chair, and since I walked in, he’s not acting like a man in control. He’s acting like my dad.

“You didn’t know? How is that possible?” I ask, my voice sharp.

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t have allowed that.” His brow tightens. “I’m not a monster. The smear campaigns didn’t come from here.”

I breathe a little. “I don’t want to be in the city anymore. I’m moving. I’m done. While I’m gone, I hope I can find it in my heart to forgive what Skye and Donovan did to me. And I’ll rest easier, knowing you weren’t trying to smear my name.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I have no response to that because I didn’t expect an apology, and it almost makes me crack. My dad moves toward me and pulls me into his arms for a hug. He pulls back slightly and looks at me—not as the future CEO, not as a father trying to regain control, but as my dad.

“I’m okay with you quitting if it will make you happy.”

The words settle something in me.

I nod once. “It will. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt free.”

He exhales, and I can tell he means it when he says, “Then go be happy.”

I don’t expect the tight hug that follows or the way my chest tightens when I let myself lean into it. He holds me like a father who regrets not doing better. I don’t forgive everything, not yet. But I forgive enough to let this moment exist.

When we pull apart, Colt is already moving toward the door, giving us space.

When we’re alone, my dad clears his throat. “Were you serious about marrying him?”

“Yes,” I say with a smile. “When you know, you know.”

“He seems like a good man.”

“He is,” I tell him, and then I leave.

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