Page 47 of One Night With My Grumpy Professor Daddy

As I walk through the graveyard, the sun hangs low in the sky, and the air is heavy with the scent of flowers and memories. This is long overdue; I need to do this for Zoe, Ava, and myself.

I find her grave adorned with fresh flowers, the name on the tombstone, “Sarah Kent,” she never took my name. With a deep breath, I say what’s been in my heart for a while. “Sarah, I’m sorry that our marriage caused you pain and that I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. For not seeing that you needed someone. I’ve carried the guilt for far too long. But right now, I feel much better, more alive.” I think about Ava. “I feel like I can breathe again and that I deserve to be happy. I don’t want to let my past destroy that. I can’t.”

The words feel sincere, and they hang in the air as a strange sense of closure settles over me. I also thank her for birthing Zoe, a beautiful, confident, and smart little girl. “I promise to protect her.”

As I whisper my goodbyes and rise to my feet, I feel better, lighter, as if I’ve shed a heavy weight of guilt. I know where to go next; I have one more thing to do to get over my past.

With my mission in mind, I drive to the heart of Miami and enter the all-glass building where my father’s practice operates. I head straight to his office, ignoring the luxury around me. My father, a titan in the legal world, lounges in his high-backed chair, draped in success like a velvet robe. My admiration for him has long faded.

His grin widens like a Cheshire cat, “The last time you left here, I thought you’d never return.”

“I thought so too,” I reply, placing a brown file on the table between us.

He looks at the file with skepticism and asks, “What is it?”

“I’m giving up my shares in your company and terminating any further dealings.”

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You’re rejecting this legacy.”

“Because I know what this legacy stands on, and I don’t want to be part of it. I’m not claiming to be a perfect man or a saint, but the things you’ve done to get here are just wrong.”

He leans forward, his face hardening. “You think it’s that simple, Drake? This is the world we live in. You can’t be a success without making hard choices.”

“I’m not looking the other way anymore. And I’ve caught a glimpse of what your so-called hard choices entail, Dad. It’s ugly and unfair. My wife lost her life because of it.”

As I stood there facing my father, the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. His stern expression revealed a hint of regret, but he spoke with gruff confidence, “Drake, I gotta say, I’m genuinely sorry. We loved Sarah, but you know, having her committed... it just wouldn’t have looked good for the family.”

I clenched my jaw, the memory of her suffering burning within me. “I don’t give a damn, Dad. Sarah needed professional help, not just pills shoved at her.”

He leaned forward, the room practically vibrating with tension. “Drake, you know how it is, we have a responsibility... a reputation to uphold, we do what it takes, and we reach the top.”

Is he fucking saying what I think he’s saying?

And more determined than ever, I look him straight in the eye and tell him.

“I’m done with all of it... your reputation, your responsibilities. I’m going my own way, where integrity means something.”

My father leans closer, his voice low and demanding. “You might not like it, but you don’t really have a choice here, Drake. You’re taking over this company.”

I locked my gaze with his, my tone firm. “No. I’m not.”

The tension is so thick a suffocating silence blankets the room. I square off against my father, his angry gaze drills into mine, probing and calculating.

He shoots me a cold and cynical smile. It might have scared the younger me, but now, I maintain eye contact, letting him know he doesn’t scare me.

“You know I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

“What?”

“You’re my investment, and I always protect what’s mine. Anyway, I see you’ve been spending time with the Miller’s daughter. Is that what this is? You’re giving up your birthright for a roll in the hay? C’mon son, you can do better than that.”

My fists clench involuntarily, but I remind myself not to lose my cool.

His laughter is bitter, laced with arrogance. “You’re still so naive,”

“I’d rather be naive than become another version of you. Goodbye, Dad.”

Without waiting for his response, I turn and walk away, the heavy oak door shutting behind me with finality.

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