Ray Maddox
The air in my father's office always smells like ash and wealth.
Leather. Cigars. Power.
I've sat on the same side of this desk since I was ten, pretending like I gave a damn about oil, assets, mergers. I nod at the right times. Give enough insight to keep him off my back. Fake the legacy son role he wants.
But today?
He doesn't offer me a drink. Doesn't ask if I'm still riding.
He just says:
"Sit."
I sit.
A moment passes. Then two. Then—he slides his phone across the desk.
It's a photo.
Sky.
Leaning against her bike. Smoking. My hoodie on her shoulders. Hair in a braid, makeup smudged.
I know that night. I remember every damn second of it.
And now so does he.
He doesn't yell. That's not his style.
He lifts his glass. "Do you want to destroy this family, Ray?"
I don't answer.
"You think this is a game? Do you have any idea what her father would do if this gets out?"
"Yeah," I say quietly. "He'd kill me."
My father slams his glass down, hard enough to crack it. "He'd do worse. He'd pull contracts, sink deals, turn our entire board against us."
I clench my jaw. "So I'm just supposed to stay away from her?"
"You're not supposed to touch her."
I'm silent.
"You're the future of this company," he continues. "Start acting like it. No more games. No more scandals. And no more Valen's daughter."
I laugh. It's bitter, humorless. "Too late for that."
He stands.
That's when I realize: this isn't about money anymore.
It's about control.
"You will end it, Ray," he says, voice like frost. "Because if you don't, I will."
He walks past me and adds one more thing before leaving the room—
"Next time you bring a girl to your room, make sure it's not a fucking declaration of war."
Door slams.
Silence returns.
I stay sitting for a long time. Head down. Phone buzzing in my pocket.
It's not her.
It hasn't been her in days.
And now?
Maybe it never will be again.