Page 74 of The Dating Coach
He left with his entourage, clearly expecting obedience. I stood there for a moment, rage building like pressure in a boiler. Then I got dressed – not for a meeting, but for war.
The conference room was set up like a business presentation. Charts showing my "declining market value," quotes from scouts about my "questionable judgment,"projections of earnings if I "returned to form." Astrid sat in a corner, looking like she wanted to disappear.
"Here's what's going to happen," Victor began the moment I entered. "You'll put this whole mess with that girl behind you. Bradley has crafted a statement about youthful indiscretion and renewed focus. Astrid has graciously agreed to be seen with you at some events, help rehabilitate your image—"
"No."
The word hung in the air like a challenge.
"No?" Victor's face darkened. "You don't get to say no. I've spent twenty-one years—"
"Building your dream, not mine," I interrupted. "Twenty one years of you living through me, controlling me, treating me like an investment instead of a son."
"Everything I've done has been for you!"
"Everything you've done has been for you!" The words exploded out, years of suppressed rage finally finding voice. "The camps that stole my summers. The coaches who taught me to play through injuries that still ache. The constant pressure to be perfect, to perform, to justify your existence through my achievements."
"You ungrateful—"
“I have someone I love, too,” Astrid announced, cutting him off.
Everyone turned to stare at her.
"What?" she said with a shrug. "My father doesn't know, obviously. But I'm not pretending to date someone to please our families. That's medieval." She looked at me. "Go get your girl. Love who you love. Life's too short for this bullshit."
"Astrid!" one of the suits – presumably her handler – looked apoplectic.
"Oh, stuff it, Richard." She stood, smoothing her designer dress. "I'm done being a prop in someone else's show." She headed for the door, pausing to look back at me. "Good luck in your game. And with the girl. Anyone worth this much drama must be special."
Her exit created chaos. The agents started arguing about damage control. The PR team scrambled to adjust their strategies. And Victor... Victor looked at me like I was a stranger.
"You're throwing everything away," he said quietly. "For what? For someone who already left you?"
"I'm choosing my own life," I corrected. "And yeah, maybe she left. But she left because she loves me too much to let me sacrifice anything for her. She doesn't understand that she's not a sacrifice – she's the prize."
"Pretty words," Victor sneered. "See how pretty they are when you're riding buses in the minor leagues, struggling to make rent."
"Actually," I said, pulling out my phone to check the date, "in two weeks, I turn twenty-two. Know what happens then?"
His face went white. He'd forgotten about the trust fund.
"That's right," I continued. "Grandma saw you coming. Set it up so you couldn't touch it, couldn't control it. Enough to live on while I figure out what I actually want."
"If you walk out of this room—"
"You'll what? Disown me? Stop speaking to me? Withdraw your conditional love?" I laughed, but it wasn't bitter anymore. Just tired. "Go ahead. I've got all the family I need."
I left them all there – agents, handlers, PR flacks, and one furious father. My phone was already ringing with his rage, but I sent it to voicemail. I had a game to play.
More importantly, I had a girl to win back.
In the locker room, my teammates took one look at my face and gave me space. Henry eventually approached, cautious.
"You good?"
"I will be," I said, pulling on my gear with steady hands. "My father tried to set me up with a replacement girlfriend."
"He what?" Henry's voice hit a pitch I'd never heard before.
