Mr. Broken More than Money

Chapter 1

RIVER

"If this one quits, I'm disowning you."

"I'm not sure you can actually disown me," I said as I passed by my father, the esteemed Reginald Wentworth the Third. Good old Reg was the kind of man used to getting what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. The CEO of Wentworth Financial, the largest hedge fund company in the world. They did business with everyone from world-renowned charity organizations to dictators. Nothing was off-limits for the family business; they were only ruled by the all-mighty green.

"River, it's been a year. We have tried everything. You can't just shut yourself off from the rest of the world. When was the last time you left the apartment?"

"Yesterday morning, I went for a run."

"Fine, maybe that was a bad question. When was the last time you went out with people?"

I poured a cup of coffee for myself, taking a sip. "People are overrated. I think I've seen enough of people and what they can do. I'm not looking to get tangled with them again."

"You can't live in the past."

"I'm not," I said. I turned to my father, feeling the rage take over me. "I've seen too much, Dad. I would do anything to go back to the past."

"None of that was your fault."

"I know, Dad. The shit that happened was your fault. You could have pulled your strings but chose not to, and because of that, my brother, your son, is dead."

"You think I could have done anything? You think I could have stopped him? I even tried to get the two of you positions that were far away from the bullets. You know what happened when I got office assignments for the two of you? Ridge called me and demanded I undo it. He told me he wasn't there to be some stooge, sitting behind a desk and pretending he was actually doing anything. He wanted to be on the field to help as much as he could." My father rubbed his hands along his face, looking weathered, something I had never noticed before. Usually Reginald looked taller than life, this massive presence that commanded respect the moment he stepped into a room. He never cared what anyone thought of him, as long as he was respected.

"You should have made him. You should have tried harder," I yelled, tossing my mug across the room. I watched as it shattered, pieces of glass breaking on the floor.

My father walked towards me, reaching out to touch me, and I flinched at the act. I didn't want him or anyone near me. I didn't want anyone to get close to me again. Caring made you weak. Caring broke you.

"He's your mother’s son. He was just like her, always wanting to help, to change the world, to do good. He was Anna in every way. There was no way he was going to let me stop him when he thought he was doing something good."

"So now you're going to blame Mom?"

"I'm not blaming anyone, River. What happened, happened. I can't fix it."

"Isn't it ironic, Dad, that with all your money and power, you can't really use it when it really matters?" I waved my arms around to encompass the room. "All the shit your money buys you is empty. None of this shit matters. Nothing matters. No one matters. Not anymore."

"I'm done with letting you wallow. It's done."

"Oh, now you put your foot down," I said, a dry laugh escaping me. "You're such a fuckin' hypocrite."

"Hello…" A sweet voice that I would recognize anywhere came from the hallway.

I turned to my father, feeling the rage rise inside me. "What the fuck is she doing here? I thought she was in England!"

"She came back three months ago. I didn't think you'd be as cruel to her as you were to the others," my father said as he leaned back and smiled. The fucker knew he had me in a corner. It was easy to discard the others he had hired, but he knew full well that Zoey was one person I couldn’t turn away from. I wouldn't rip my heart out again.

Chapter 2

ZOEY

I hadn't seen River Wentworth in five years. I don't know why I even took the job; maybe I was naive, or perhaps I was a glutton for punishment. If I were honest, the prospect of seeing him again was too tempting to pass up.

I saw River's head first before his massive frame towered over me. The first thing I noticed was the gash on his face, taking up room from the corner of his left eye all the way down to his ear, and then the second scar along his neck. Both spots looked angry and painful. I averted my gaze, not wanting him to notice that I’d seen them. Not wanting him to see the sadness in my eyes at everything he must have gone through.