Page 90 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
And I keep thinking about him.
About Grau.
His silence.
His absence.
And how, no matter how angry I was, no matter how betrayed I felt, the space he left behind is bigger than the betrayal.
It’severything.
I sit up slowly. My spine aches from sleeping on the floor, my neck clicks when I twist it, and I swear I smell like old tears and synthetic leather polish.
“Classy,” I mutter, dragging myself upright with the edge of the desk.
The office lights adjust automatically. Too bright.
“Off,” I snap.
Darkness wraps around me like a blanket I didn’t ask for. I stand at the window, arms crossed tight, and stare at the city that once bowed to my surname.
My father’s world.
My world.
No. Tidball’s now.
And that thought—that thought—finally cuts deeper than anything else.
Because it doesn’t make sense.
None of it.
Not the timing. Not the paperwork. Not the way all the shares shifted like clockwork while I was distracted withdatesandmeetingsandcrisesthat never quite resolved.
I start pacing.
My thoughts move faster than my steps.
Tidball was alwaysthere.
Every fire I tried to put out—he was there with the hose.
Every crack I noticed in the foundation—he already had a plaster kit ready.
Every time I questioned myself, he had answers. Soothing ones. Clever ones. Delivered with just enough reassurance to keep me fromlooking deeper.
“God,” I whisper. “Did he plan all of it?”
I reach for my compad.
My hands shake.
I pull up the comm log.
Every major pivot I made—there’s a call from Tidball logged within the same window.
The expansion veto I reversed? Tidball.
