My heart breaks for each of them.
It breaks for the position I’ve been put in because it seems so impossible, and as I sit here, the more I realize I want no part of it. It’s not the work. I’m a hard worker. My work ethic is strong, determined. It’s the fact that a woman who has always been short on praise and long on criticism, a woman who prides herself on being an astute businesswoman, made a brash decision, creating a mess and now she expects me to clean it up. She’s dangling the only thing I thought I ever wanted in front of me like I’m a starving horse and she’s the abusive trainer holding the golden carrot. She expects me to bite, exactly like I’ve always done. Of course, I’m going to bite. It’s what I’ve been trained to do, groomed to do.
Maybe it was the jab about dedication to the family that angers me so much. Her contribution has always been money. She makes a lot of it, and to her that should be enough. The time together and love shouldn’t matter. It never has.
This is my legacy, my birthright. Maybe Chelsea was smart in wanting nothing to do with it even though she’s always said nursing and not business was her calling. She hasn’t severed ties completely with the family, but she’s managed to create enough distance to find her own little slice of happiness, including Gabe’s family who loves her, treats her like one of their own.
Refusing to let my mind wander back to the birthday party, I take a shuddering breath. I can’t think of his touch, or his lips, or the last kiss we shared. It hurts too much. I’m too weak right now, too tired. My defenses aren’t strong enough to fight those memories off. That kiss to my temple was final. I have to remember that.
Did he know that last time was the end? Was that why it was so sweet, so all-consuming?
I fought it as long as I could. I didn’t want sweet and considerate. Those are things that hit you in the chest. Things would be different if he had pulled my hair, smacked my ass and walked out of there and said it was a great lay like he had the first time. Why did he have to wipe my tears and kiss me softly? It made me feel even more used. It broke me, ruined me, left me battered.
“Fuck him,” I mutter, refusing to cry again.
I heave a sigh as I lift my head, scooting the chair closer to the desk so I can reach the computer keyboard. I have work, something I know I can get lost in. I move the mouse, and nothing happens. After pressing a key on the keyboard, the screen flashes once, and that’s it. Everything is powered up, and the damn thing is dead.
I know in my heart, without having to look, that my dad knew Mom was going to do something with the company. He killed the entire system. He knew she was going to be vindictive, so he decided to do it first.
It’s the final straw, and I’m done. Picking up where everything left off two weeks ago is one thing. Starting from the absolute bottom isn’t going to happen. I did that on my own in St. Louis, and although I did it with Blackbridge with absolutely no success, I can keep doing it without the shadows and stains of Redmond Enterprises weighing me down.
I stand calmly, looking down at my father’s neat desk. Everything in here is orderly, just as it has been my entire life.
I scream my frustrations as I sweep everything to the floor. I hate him. I hate my mother. I hate Gaige. I hate that I still love each of them even though loving them does nothing but cost me.
I wipe away the tears on my cheeks, drop the office keys on the desk and walk out of the office for the final time. I don’t look back even knowing that I’ll never step inside again.
I’d rather beg for money on the filthy streets of New York than clean up another person’s mess.
Choke on that carrot, Mom, because I’d rather starve.
I didn’t pay much attention when I came home earlier, but my apartment is in much better condition than the office. I prepared to leave when I went to St. Louis. The trip was originally planned through Redmond Enterprises, and I knew several weeks in advance that I was going to be traveling. The single houseplant I had was dead long before I left, so I don’t feel guilty at seeing the wilted ivy in the corner of the living room. I’ll dispose of it after I get some sleep.
My fridge is empty, but that doesn’t stop me from opening the thing just in case.