Chapter 91
NATHAN’S POV
I didn’t sleep a wink.
I spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed, my mind reeling from everything that had happened–from my idiotic, ill–thought–out announcement earlier to the emotional rollercoaster that followed afterward with April, to Peter’s interruption and proposal.
After he made April leave, my younger brother tried to have a heart–to–heart with me. I immediately shut it down and kicked him out of
my room.
I didn’t dare to sleep after that. I knew I couldn’t handle night terrors on top of everything else that had happened.
Now, I’m gripping my phone so tight, my knuckles are white while I scroll through my feed, taking in all the #KeepApril comments. I thought the tag was silly when Peter made the inciting post yesterday, but it has been efficient enough.
I just hope it will have the desired effect on my parents.
My knee jerks erratically as I nervously check the time. Everything in me wants to rush downstairs to find April, but doing that will only adversely affect our plan.
The ringing of the landline in my room snaps me out of my thoughts. I practically fly toward it, desperate for good news.
“Hello?” I answer breathlessly.
“My office,” my father’s stern voice comes through the receiver. “Now.” The call ends with a sharp click.
I glance down at the phone, dread spreading in my chest. “Fuck,” I whisper.
As much as I want to dawdle, I don’t. You don’t keep Samuel Ashford waiting.
The entire last floor of the Ashford mansion belongs exclusively to my father. It’s occupied by his office and bedroom only. You’d think. that wouldn’t be enough if both rooms weren’t bigger than a regular bungalow.
Outside the large oak door of my father’s office, I hesitate.
I’m not scared of my father, per se, but when I close my eyes and run through my memories of him, it’s mostly yelling and throwing. things and insults and heavy fists.
You can imagine my enthusiasm.
I clench my jaw, bracing myself as 1 knock on the door.
“Enter.”
Here goes nothing.
Samuel Ashford sits behind his large mahogany desk, a picture of power and sovereignty. He’s dressed in his usual crisp suit, but his tie is
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Chapter 91
unusually askew, as if he’s loosened and tightened it a couple of times–a tell–tale sign that he’s aggravated,
He’s glaring at something on his desktop, and I cross my arms behind my back, waiting. In my father’s presence, you don’t speak until he speaks.
“I thought the Ashfords said they didn’t care about background,” he reads from his screen through clenched teeth. “We all knew the rich, influential girls would win anyway. Let’s be honest, she never stood a chance. Fuck this competition.”
He looks up, fixing eyes unnervingly identical to mine on me. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror and see my father’s green eyes staring back at me, I have the urge to carve them out of my head with my trimming scissors.
“Hashtag Keep April,” he deadpans.
“I—”
“I warned you,” my father continues in a deathly calm voice. “I told you we needed to send her away as soon as we realized the error. From that first day, I knew that girl would bring nothing but unrest.”
I swallow hard. The disgust with which he said, ‘that girl,‘ makes my fists clench.
He glances down at the action, and his eyebrow quirks ever so slightly.
Then he leans back in his seat, surveying me coldly. I don’t think my father has ever looked at me with any form of affection in his eyes.
It’s always been cold calculation–like right now.
“Do you know why we held this competition?”
I shake my head. I have no fucking clue. It’s all just stupid posturing, after all.
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