Chapter 8 - The Strategy of a Father
Wesley walked over to the window, stopping two feet behind her. He didn't touch her, respecting the boundary she had built over five brutal years, but he stood close enough that she could feel the heat of his presence.
“I ruined my own life five years ago, Nina,” Wesley said quietly. “I thought I was building an empire. I thought if I gained enough power, enough money, enough success, nobody could ever hurt me or control me again. But all I really did was build a very expensive cage.”
He turned to face her profile. “I have two hundred million dollars coming into my personal account by the end of this month. I have three homes I never sleep in. I have a company with six hundred employees who obey my every command. And I would trade every single bit of it, right now, just to go back to that studio apartment in Brooklyn and eat cold noodles with you on the floor.”
Nina wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, letting out a soft, ragged sigh. “We aren't those people anymore, Wesley. You’re a billionaire CEO. I’m a librarian with two kids and a mountain of debt. You live in a world of boardrooms; I live in a world of grocery coupons. We don't fit.”
“Then I’ll burn the boardroom down,” Wesley said without a second of hesitation.
Nina looked up at him, startled by the sheer, terrifying conviction in his voice.
“I’m serious,” Wesley insisted, stepping closer, his eyes burning with the same ruthless focus that had made him the most feared negotiator in Silicon Valley—only this time, he wasn't fighting for market share. He was fighting for his family. “I’m going to hire the best legal team in New York tomorrow. I’m going to clear every single cent of your medical debt by noon.”
“Wesley, no—I won't take your charity—”
“It’s not charity, Nina!” Wesley cut her off, his voice fierce. “It’s back pay! It’s five years of child support for my son, and it’s an investment in my daughter’s future! You are not going to fight this disease of debt alone for another single day!”
He reached out and gently took her hands into his own. Her fingers were cold, but she didn't pull them away.
“I’m not asking you to take me back tonight,” Wesley said, his tone softening to a whisper. “I know I don't deserve your trust. I know I earned every tear you cried over me. But give me a chance to prove I can be the man you believed I was when you drew that fake charter on our kitchen table.”
Before Nina could answer, the bedroom door creaked open.
Leo stepped out into the hallway, holding a piece of paper in his hands. He looked back and forth between his weeping mother and the tall man holding her hands.
“Mom?” Leo asked quietly. “Is the rain man staying for dinner? We made macaroni.”
May you like
Wesley looked down at his son, his eyes filling with tears, and let out a breathless, emotional laugh.
“I love macaroni, Leo,” Wesley said softly. “It’s my favorite.”
