Page 165 of F*ckboys

"Fallon, wait. Please just listen." His voice is strained, laced with desperation.

I grip the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white. "You have two minutes. Talk."

"I'm sorry about what happened. I never meant to hurt you or be dishonest in any way. I was hired to protect you and as soon as we started working together, I knew our partnership wasmeant to be. I never spied on you and reported back to Aksel or anything like that. To be honest, I'd basically forgotten that he had me cross paths with you in the first place."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, reopening wounds that have barely begun to heal. I swallow the ache in my throat and remain silent. I believe what he's saying, but the way Aksel placed him in my life just feels so deceptive. Still, I can see that both of their intentions were good. I'm not a child that needs to be coddled, or a damsel in distress racing upstairs in a horror movie. I'm a grown ass woman with a revenge business. Conflicted is an understatement.

"Fallon, please. Say something. I can't lose you."

Too little too late. He made his choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

"You've said enough," I snap. "Time's up."

I'm about to hang up when he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Fallon. You're the closest thing I have to family. I love you as a sister... I always have."

I freeze, caught between fury and anguish, love and hate. My fingers tremble around the phone as a single tear slips down my cheek. I know words like this basically never leave his mouth. He's devoid of emotion, a robot. I know he means it.

But after everything he's done, how dare he say that now?

"Don't." My voice shakes. "Just...don't."

The line goes dead. I fling the phone across the room and collapse onto the floor, surrendering to the storm of emotions ravaging my soul.

The next day

My father summons us to an emergency family meeting. We gather in his lavish study, anxiety etched into every frown and furrowed brow.

Glancing around, I can see everyone else is feeling just as clueless about this meeting as I am.

Colton Dempsey stands before the unlit fireplace, hands clasped behind his back. His face is pale and drawn, aged beyond his years overnight. "I have a confession to make," he says heavily. "The fortune we built—it was never clean money. It's been making me feel really hypocritical in light of Fallon venturing out with her own business. I haven't really told this story before, although I'm sure you've heard whispers. Now, with everything going on, it feels like the right time to be up front with you all."

Shock ripples through the room. Skeletons tumble out of closets as my father admits how our wealth came to be—through underhanded business practices, financial scams and dealing drugs to addicts.

I stare at the luxe Persian rug, bile rising in my throat. How could he have hidden all of this? How could we be so blind to think our family just somehow innocently—deservedly came into massive intergenerational wealth? I feel like an idiot for never having questioned it, only resenting it for the burden of familial expectations that accompany it.

"I'm so sorry," Colton says hoarsely. "The greed for more power and money consumed me. I should have put our family first, but I failed you all. There are several things I could have put a stop to. But instead, I turned a blind eye, transfixed by the financial incentives. And now, I'm afraid, there's a chance we're going to be investigated by federal agents. They've started closing in on some of our closest associates, people who know our skeletons. It's only a matter of time until someone slips or trades our secrets in a plea deal. We'll control the narrative as much as we can, but things are bound to come out." He pauses. "Ironically, Fallon and Link may be the only Dempseys with viable companies at the end of all this."

No one speaks for what seems like minutes.

Cheston is the first to move. He strides over and embraces our father in a fierce hug. "You're still our father," he says gruffly. "We'll get through this together."

The rest of us follow suit, a tangled mess of tears and recriminations. But underneath the hurt and betrayal lies the faintest spark of hope—that we can rebuild what was broken, and forge new beginnings from the ashes of the past.

After the emotional upheaval subsides, I confront my father. "You have to stop interfering in my business," I tell him bluntly. "Let me run things my way."

To my surprise, Colton simply nods. "I see that now. You've proven yourself," he says. A wistful smile touches his lips. "I couldn't be prouder of the woman you've become. And your business—I took a closer look at some of the course content and, well—it's very impressive. I see potential for global syndication."

Warmth blooms in my chest at the unexpected praise. Perhaps we've turned a corner after all.

He pauses for a moment, as if deciding whether to go on.

"I've always been hard on you, Fallon. You're my only daughter. And you're smart, capable, and you have a habit of making life more difficult for yourself than it needs to be. So I don't regret it, other than to say I realize I've been pushing you harder than ever. Too hard."

I'm beginning to think my dad's body has been taken over by a pod person, so I just nod, trying to keep my own body still.

"Just remember we're here for you if you need us," Dad adds. "But your business and personal decisions are your own. I'll stop questioning you about every single thing. You've earned that right."

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