Part I
1
Linc
“What?” I frowned in confusion. “A job? I already have something for the summer. Why do I need a different job?”
My father’s cold eyes studied me over his thick-rimmed glasses. “Because I said so, Lincoln.”
“But, Father…”
“You aren’t spending it fucking around, drinking with your friends, sleeping the summer away, and spending my money. You’re going to work.”
I gaped at him. “When the hell have I ever done those things? I spent the last three summers volunteering at the local animal shelter.”
He scowled. “Watch your tone. Walking dogs and feeding cats teaches you nothing.”
“It teaches me responsibility and to care for other creatures.”
He waved his hand. “It’s making you soft. I need to toughen you up.”
I wanted to argue with him and tell him how wrong he was, but I knew there was no point. Franklin Thomas didn’t do feelings. Or care about anything. Animals were on the earth to feed him and for him to place bets on at the occasional horse race. You didn’t love them.
According to him, it was better never to love anything. Including me.
“You’ll be working at the summer camp. My company is sponsoring it this year, and I want a Thomas there representing me. You’ll be assisting the head of the camp with whatever he requires you to do.”
I held back my groan. I didn’t want to work at the camp. I wanted to be at the shelter—learning and soaking up as much knowledge as I could.
“Father, I want to be a vet. I told you this before, many times. Volunteering at the shelter will look good on my resume in a few years.”
He shook his head. “We’ve discussed this, and I told you no. You’ll be joining the firm. Forget that stupid dream. Your mother put that idea in your head when you were a kid—one of her many idiotic thoughts—and it’s time you grow out of it.”
I curled my hands into fists at my sides. I hated the way he spoke of my mother. As if she meant nothing. When, in fact, it was the opposite. She had meant everything to me and had been the bright spot in my world.
That died when she did, and my life was never the same again. My already distant father became cold and unfeeling. His entire world revolved around one thing—money. Happiness didn’t matter. I didn’t matter—a fact that he made perfectly clear.
I tried one more time. “Father, please—”
He stood, slamming his fists onto his desk. “There will be no arguments, or it’s all gone, Lincoln. The car, your allowance, any freedom I allow you—everything.”
I knew he was serious.
“When do I start?”
“You report day after tomorrow. I’ve decided you can stay there, but you come back every Sunday to report in. You keep your eyes open and your nose clean. Camp ends mid-August. If you do a good job, there’ll be a reward.”
I frowned. My father never gave rewards. “Sir?” I asked.
He smiled—one of his cold, unreal smiles that unnerved me. “I won’t shut down that fucking animal shelter you like so much. Fuck this up, and I’m pulling the lease.”
I turned and left, not wanting him to see my disgust. I headed out the door and hurried down the path to the cliff that overlooked the water below. I sat on the edge, drawing my knees up to my chest and resting my arms on them.
I knew my father owned the building the shelter was in. Hell, he owned most of the buildings and businesses in town. Not that anyone knew it. His maze of numbered companies kept that hidden. Rents went up, people lost their homes and businesses, and he sat back, not caring, enjoying the sick, twisted game he played with people’s lives. Laughing at the fact that it was him pulling the strings so often, moving people around like pieces on a chessboard. To most people, my father was a well-respected businessman. He owned several companies in various towns, along with a lot of real estate, including some huge holdings in Toronto. He sat on the chamber of commerce board, the council, and was tight with the mayor and the police here in Mission Cove. He duped them all.
I despised him.
I had been looking forward to spending the whole summer at the shelter. Caring for the animals, picking the brains of the vets who volunteered their time there. I had hoped to convince one of them to let me volunteer at their clinic so I could learn more. It would have looked great on my application to veterinary school. It was hard to get into, and I would need all the help I could get.
Except my father had just crushed those dreams, hadn’t he? The same way he crushed everything else I hoped for. Everything I loved.
I knew it looked like I was the kid who had it all. I drove a new car, wore nice clothes, and I always had money in my pocket. My grades were good, and I was well-thought-of by my teachers and peers alike.