Page 159 of Broken Blades

"This merger is bigger than all of us."

My chest tightened. The words landed like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. "Dad…"

He wouldn't even look at me. His eyes stayed fixed somewhere over my shoulder, avoiding the tears he had to know were coming.

"You don't understand how the world works."

I sucked in a breath, my eyes wet. Just quiet disappointment sliding down my cheeks in hot tracks that I couldn't stop.

My father finally turned. Something flickered across his face—regret, maybe, or the ghost of the man who used to read me bedtime stories. "Honey…" He stepped closer, hand reaching out like he might actually touch me. Like he might remember I was his daughter and not just another piece on his chessboard. "You don't know what this man is capable of."

I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. My vision cleared. My breathing steadied.

And suddenly—I wasn't sad anymore.

I was done.

"You didn't raise an idiot."

Thomas stopped mid-step.

I looked him straight in the eyes, refusing to blink, refusing to back down. "And I'm grateful for that."

His brow furrowed, confusion replacing certainty.

I took a breath. "Because it means I know when someone is lying to me."

My father's face fell. The mask he wore so well—the confident CEO, the devoted husband, the proud father—cracked down the middle. What remained looked older. Smaller. Almost human.

I reached for Wyatt's hand. His fingers wrapped around mine immediately, warm and steady and sure. "I've made up my mind."

My father opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "Chastity⁠—"

But I was already moving toward the door.

Wyatt walked beside me, matching my pace, his presence solid and grounding. The office that had always felt so impressive—so powerful—seemed smaller now. Just wood and glass and a man who'd built an empire on lies.

"Please." My father's voice cracked behind us.

I didn't stop. Didn't turn. Didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me waver.

For the first time in my life, I walked out of my father's office without looking back.

The door clicked shut behind us with a finality that felt like an ending and a beginning wrapped into one impossible moment.

Wyatt squeezed my hand once.

We'd crossed a line we could never uncross. And I'd never felt more certain of anything in my entire life.

Chapter 30

Wyatt

Practice ended with the usual chaos.

Sticks clattered against metal lockers. Music blasted from someone's Bluetooth speaker—too loud, too bass-heavy, exactly what every muscle in my body needed after two hours of brutal drills.

I yanked my helmet off and dropped onto the bench, already feeling the ache settling into my shoulders.