Page 103 of The Rival's Obsession
Five years of high-stakes moves and veiled threats and nights where I barely slept because the next day could be the one that changes everything.
The board vote looms like a guillotine. Clean cut. No appeals. Just legacy—split clean down the center. Or burned to ash.
But that’s not what’s got me twisted up inside.
Not anymore.
It should be.
Hell, it used to be.
Everything about this firm—about our fathers, their blood, their names—it’s been drilled into me like gospel.
But now?
Now it’s him.
Grant fucking Harrow.
The man who’s haunted my nightmares and filled my dreams in equal measure.
The man I’ve hated more thoroughly than I’ve loved anyone else.
The man who—God help me—I never stopped wanting.
Something snapped this weekend.
At the gala. At that table. Beneath the watchful eyes of the city’s elite, while legacy dripped from the ceilings and money soaked the wine.
I watched him break.
Just a crack.
Barely visible to anyone else. But I know him too well. I feel him too well.
And I saw it—the moment the wall began to crumble.
The moment denial lost its grip and he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.
That’s what this has always been, isn’t it?
Not business. Not rivalry. Not ambition.
It’s been the lie.
The thing Grant refuses to say. Refuses to name.
The thing he’s been running from for years, even when it’s bled into every boardroom, every contract, every fucking look he gives me.
I’ve played my part.
I’ve pushed him.
Cornered him.
Tempted him until I could feel the moment he forgot to hate me.
But I can’t finish this.
