Page 54 of Ex- Factor
I sighed, rubbing my palms against my jeans. “I guess. Should I do it? Am I ready, or am I about to screw her life up?”
He gave me that measured look—the one where he didn’t rush. “Silas, readiness isn’t about perfection. It’s about willingness. You’ve already chosen her in a hundred small ways—by letting her in, by telling her the truth, by not running. You’re asking me, but it sounds like you’ve already made your decision.”
I stared at the floor. My chest felt tight, but not the old kind of tight. This wasn’t dread. It was the weight of something big. Maybe he was right. Maybe I’d already chosen her.
I cleared my throat, changing the subject. “My parents called. A lot. I don’t pick up. They leave voicemails.”
“What would happen if you did?” Dr. Bailey asked.
I snorted. “I’d cuss them out, hang up. Either way, it’d be short. I don’t need to hear anything else from them. Not now, not ever.”
“Not even closure?”
“Closure?” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “Man, closure would be them leaving me the hell alone. Never talking to me again. That’s it. That’s the only peace I want from them.”
He studied me, tapping his pen once against the paper. “Then maybe that’s your answer. You don’t owe anyone—family included—continued access to you if they’re not healthy for you. Cutting them off isn’t cruelty. Sometimes it’s survival. But—”
He paused.
“But make sure you’re not just reacting. Make sure it’s a choice—not your wounds and trauma running the show.”
I leaned back again, nodding to myself more than to him. “I’m not reacting. I just don’t want to deal with them. I’m not looking back. All I want is Eshe, and my friends, and my son. That’s it.”
Dr. Bailey smiled faintly. “Then you have your answer.”
Chapter thirty one- Eshe
I blinked hard, staring at the man behind the oversized mahogany desk.
"This couldn't be real life," I muttered under my breath. It had been three months of quiet since the camping trip. I knew something would happen that we wouldn’t like.
The office smelled like leather and power, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown. Of course Silas’s father would have the kind of office that screamed,I think I’m God.
He sat like a judge, hands folded, waiting to sentence me.
“Thank you for coming, Eshe,” he said smoothly. Too smooth. His voice had the kind of practiced weight that made people listen whether they wanted to or not. “I know this is… unconventional.”
“No problem,” I said flatly. “But I don’t understand why I’m here. Silas doesn’t even speak to you.”
A faint, cold smile touched his lips. “Which is precisely why you’re here. He’s making emotional, short-sighted decisions. Cutting off his legacy, his potential, over… sentiment.”
He said the word like it was a disease.
“He’s a Rutherford. That name carries weight. It opens doors he doesn’t even know exist yet. It comes with expectations.”
He leaned forward, sliding an envelope across the desk like we were in a mob flick. My eyes cut down, then back up at him. I didn’t touch it.
“One hundred thousand dollars,” he said. “Tax-free. For you. Today. All you have to do is make a clean exit. No drama. No messy goodbyes.”
I paused, my brain connecting his words. I barked a laugh. Couldn't help it.
“This is a line straight out ofDays of Our Lives.”
His eyes narrowed, the politician’s charm fading.
“This is reality, Ms. Eshe. Let’s not be naive. What do you offer him? A few months of passion? My son isn’t built for that. He’s built to lead. He needs a partner who understands the world he was born into. Someone who can navigate a charity gala. Someone with a family name that complements his own.
You’ll only ever be a distraction. A story he tells later about the girl he almost derailed his life for.”
