Chapter 59

ASHER

The afternoon has been a letdown, to put it mildly. I had high hopes that the meeting would have taken a different turn, and when we returned home, I half-expected someone to spring out from a hidden corner of my apartment.

But nothing of the sort happened, leaving me in a state of shock. When I’m shocked, my mind tends to race, conjuring up all sorts of possibilities and harsh realities.

Ever since, I’ve been mulling over my approach to this entire situation. Sadly, I must admit that I don’t really have a strategy, nor have I thought about how this will unfold or what I hope to achieve.

I’ve squandered money where it wasn’t necessary, and I’ve been blindly navigating this situation due to my own naivety. I should know better; I’ve been raised better…

My fathers prepared me to take on a leading role, yet here I am, hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt, with three girls living in my apartment and no clear plan on how to help them or the others. The main course of action seems to be me spending money at Fennick’s whim whenever he decides to intimidate me.

I’ve placed myself in the underdog’s position. I haven’t asserted my dominance, and I haven’t lived up to the businessman my fathers, especially Zach, envisioned me to be.

This realization churns my stomach. Maybe the hotel and clubs would be better off under Atty’s management.

After all, he can handle them while still attending school. He wouldn’t find himself in the predicament I’m currently in.

If I were to take over, my family’s wealth would deplete the very moment I took charge, because I’m that much of a failure. And that’s the confession I’m about to make to Zach.

On a whim, I decide to walk downstairs in nothing but my jeans, heading straight for my father’s office. He usually leaves early on Fridays, but if I can make him understand what a disappointment I am, maybe he’ll find a different role for me, one that we can both agree on.

Perhaps he’ll finally see me for the incompetent fool I am and assign me a job that I can handle while still contributing to the family business and ensuring our comfortable lifestyle. Or maybe I should consider the other plan, the one that’s been playing out in my mind with endless possibilities.

If I just approach Zach, if I ask for his help and comply with his demands, maybe he’ll assist me with my secret project. But there’s one obstacle—my pride.

~Do I really want to ask him for anything?~

~Do I want to depend on him?~

I don’t want to, but it seems necessary. Something has to change, and since I’m the one who messed up my life, it’s up to me to claw my way back to the top.

The lobby isn’t as busy as usual for an early Friday evening. But that could be because everyone’s already checked in and either preparing for dinner or enjoying the facilities.

That’s how it goes in this line of business. There are peak times and slow periods—predictability in all aspects of customer behavior.

I learned about it in college. Exiting the elevator, I walk barefoot toward the reception desk, feeling somewhat underdressed in just my low-slung jeans.

Some of the receptionists struggle to look away, and on any other day, I might have flirted and tried to lure them into my bed for a night of passion that would leave them breathless before I asked them to leave.

But not today, not tonight. In fact, not for the past week.

I haven’t indulged in drugs or sex for the sake of love or, God forbid, water, which is quite unusual for me. Nodding, I turn right and head down the hallway that leads to the offices where my fathers and brother work.

I knock once on Zach’s door, another unusual act for me. But there’s no response. Not a sound from the other side.

I turn the doorknob and find the room unlocked, indicating that he’s around somewhere. As I step inside, I see that he’s not there. I should leave, go to Tyler’s office, or maybe ask the receptionists where my father is. Instead, I walk in, gently closing the door behind me as I take in the familiar surroundings.

The desk dominates the room, a large piece of dark wood furniture with a single chair behind it. Dad’s laptop is shut tight on the desk, and I’m itching to crack it open, to uncover any hidden secrets he might have.

I stroll past the cozy corner to the left of the room, complete with a coffee table and a few armchairs. I find myself at the desk, settling into the chair on the wrong side. My hand reaches for the laptop, my gaze drifting to the family photos on the wall to my right.

Pictures of us as babies, then as graduates, those silly caps on our heads as proof that we made it. We graduated with honors. You’d think his business would be his pride and joy, considering the countless hours he spends here, but the sentimental display on the wall tells a different story.

He’s been a good dad, supportive, attentive, and loving. But he’s also been demanding and focused on external achievements, often at the expense of family time.

He’s not a bad father by any means, but out of the three dads I’ve been lucky to have, he’s spent the least amount of time with us. Sure, the time he did spend was filled with love, joy, and meaning, but when you compare—well, it’s a comparison.

And sometimes, the comparison doesn’t favor him. We only had one mom, one woman in that role, so there’s no comparing her stellar performance as a mother.

Maybe my thinking is unfair. I should be grateful for having three dads who’ve taught me valuable lessons while loving me and my siblings. But I’ve always been called a selfish little shit for a reason.

And that reason is…well, I’ve always wanted more. Even when I had everything, I wanted more. Like with the job.

I chuckle to myself. Here I am, being handed a thriving business with more profit margins than most these days, and I’ve already decided against taking it. “Moron, that’s what Tilly called me, right?”

I open the laptop, revealing more family photos—a collage of our lives together. Each image sparks a memory of pure happiness and contentment.

But I push those feelings aside to try and unlock his laptop; the password has changed since the last time I hacked it. I try variations of my mom’s name, her birthday, their anniversary, even our birth dates, but nothing works.

I end up locking the laptop. Frustrated, I close the lid. What was I even searching for?

I start rifling through the drawers, not really looking for anything specific, just snooping, you know? The top drawer is filled with stationery—pens, pencils, paper, sticky notes—all neatly arranged. A quirky habit of my dad’s: everything in its place.

The next drawer down is stuffed with folders—photos and handmade drawings we kids have given him over the years.

And then there’s a folder at the very bottom. It’s labeled with just my name. Inside are those papers Tyler made me sign, but there’s more—photos of me out and about, photos of me with Maddison and the other girls in the garage when I brought them home.

It seems Zach has been keeping tabs on me, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from Sense. Callum’s business has no boundaries when it comes to people’s privacy. Tucked at the back is a stapled stack of papers.

A bank account in my name, with deposits matching what I used to get for my weekly allowance. So he took my money only to put it in an account I didn’t even know I had? Why? Why didn’t he follow through with his threat to take everything from me?

Feeling guilty, I shove everything back into the folder, having snooped enough to uncover something I probably shouldn’t have. This revelation has me spinning. He never took away my allowance; he just redirected it.

And he hasn’t filled my role, despite saying he would. I have a lot to think about; the future is even more uncertain. Is he waiting for me to come and ask for what he’s always wanted me to take?

Why does he want me to take over his prized possession? Closing the folder, I push the chair back, preparing to leave the room. But I’m startled by Zach’s loud voice as he nears his office.

I scramble from behind his desk, settling into one of the chairs around the coffee table, feet kicked up. That’s how they’d expect to find me waiting. I stare at the photos of us kids on the wall.

A small startle escapes me as the door swings open, even though I knew he was on his way. My dad strolls in, deep in conversation with none other than Jonathon, of all people.

I swivel around to face them, catching Zach’s eye. He stammers a bit, his words evaporating the moment he spots me.

~What the hell is Jonathon doing here, and with my dad, no less?~

“Hey, I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” Zach greets me, a grin spreading across his face. It’s as if I’ve just switched on his personal sunshine, like flipping the switch at a Disney light show.

“Dad, do you have a moment?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Not at all…” he replies, casting a dismissive glance at Jonathon.

~Good. That jerk needs to hit the road.~