Chapter 9
Marcus
Friday morning brings two things: completion of Lilah's thesis show and a summons from my father.
"Marcus. My office. Noon."
Not a request. Never a request with Richard Chen.
Lilah notices my tension immediately. "What's wrong?"
"My father's on campus. He wants to meet."
"About?"
"Probably the fact that I haven't answered his calls in two weeks. Or that I declined the summer internship at Chen Technologies. Or that I've been photographed around campus with you." I try to keep my voice neutral. Fail.
"Does he know about me?"
"Legacy Council members talk. Their parents talk more." I pull her close. "It doesn't matter what he thinks. I'm not letting him ruin this."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No. He'll be condescending and dismissive, and I won't be responsible for what I do if he disrespects you."
"Marcus—"
"I'll handle it. Finish the installation. I'll be back before the opening tonight."
The walk to the Legacy Council building feels like a march to execution. My father occupies Sebastian's old office, technically it's just a meeting space, but he's made it his temporary command center.
"Son." He doesn't stand. Doesn't smile. "Sit."
I remain standing. "I have somewhere to be."
"The art show. Yes, I'm aware." He studies me with the same analytical expression I see in my own mirror. "For the Rodriguez girl."
"Lilah. Her name is Lilah."
"I don't care what her name is. I care that you've been wasting time playing as an artist's assistant instead of preparing for your future."
"I am preparing for my future. Just not the one you planned."
"The internship—"
"I declined. I'm not interested in Chen Technologies."
"Then what are you interested in? Throwing away your education to date some scholarship student with paint in her hair?"
The dismissiveness in his voice ignites something I've kept carefully controlled for twenty-two years.
"I'm interested in consulting," I say clearly. "Problem-solving for organizations that need strategic restructuring. I've already been accepted to three consulting firms' leadership development programs. I start at Deloitte in June."
Silence. My father processes this information with visible displeasure.
"You accepted a position without consulting me."
"I'm twenty-two. I don't need your permission."
"You need my financial support. Your trust fund doesn't vest until you're twenty-five. Until then, I control—"
"Nothing. You control nothing because I've spent four years preparing to be independent of you.
" I lean forward. "I have scholarships. I have job offers.
I have my own investments from work-study positions and smart planning.
I don't need your money. I never did. I just didn't realize it until recently. "
"This is about her. She's made you think you can reject your responsibilities—"
"She's made me realize I never wanted them. You did. You decided I'd join the family business. Take over the tech dynasty. Marry someone appropriate from the right family." I straighten. "But I'm not you and I'm tired of pretending I want to be."
"If you walk away from this family—"
"I'm not walking away. I'm walking toward something that makes me happy. There's a difference."
I head for the door. My father's voice stops me.
"She'll leave you when the money runs out. When she realizes you're not the Chen heir anymore."
"Then she'll leave. But at least I'll know I chose myself. Finally."
I walk out before he can respond.
My hands shake as I cross campus. From anger. From adrenaline. From the terrifying freedom of finally saying what I've thought for years.
I text Lilah: Heading back. How's the installation?
Her response is immediate: Done. It's perfect. Are you okay?
I am now. See you in thirty minutes.
When I arrive at the gallery, the transformation takes my breath away.
Twelve pieces. Each one raw and honest and devastating. The installation dominates the center, a twisted metal structure with fabric flowing through it, representing constraint and freedom simultaneously.
"It's incredible," I breathe.
Lilah appears beside me, paint-stained and exhausted and beautiful.
"We did it."
"You did it. I just organized."
"You did so much more than that." She takes my hand. "You believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself. You stayed when I expected you to leave. You chose me over everything comfortable and easy."
"Choosing you was easy. Everything else was hard."
"How did it go with your father?"
"I quit the family business before I ever started. Told him I'm taking the Deloitte offer. That I don't need his approval or his money."
"Marcus—"
"I should have done it years ago. Been honest about what I want instead of calculating what everyone else expected." I cup her face. "You taught me that. How to be honest even when it's messy."
"Are you sure? Because if you're doing this for me—"
"I'm doing this for me. For the first time in my life, I'm choosing what I want. And I want this. Consulting. Problem-solving. My own path." I kiss her softly. "And I want you. If you'll have a guy who's probably going to be broke for a few years while he builds his career."
"I love broke guys with beautiful minds and organized sock drawers."
"My sock drawer is exceptional."
"It really is."