CHAPTER NINETEEN
brYCE
Stepping into the Casa Cashmere cigar lounge feels like walking into the devil’s lair—dark, smoky, and laden with power.
Mahogany walls climb from marble floor to vaulted ceiling, glowing under a haze of amber light.
The mounted heads of long-dead exotic animals track me from the shadows—trophies from men who killed not to survive, but to dominate.
Their glass eyes lock on to me, unblinking, daring me to make a wrong move.
I sink into the bloodred leather armchair across from my father, the cushions molding around me like quicksand.
He takes a long pull from his Cuban cigar, the ember glowing menacingly.
The smoke coils like fingers in my lungs, but I don’t cough.
That would be weakness. I force myself to breathe through it, one shallow inhale at a time.
He reaches for the crystal decanter beside him, pouring three fingers of scotch. He doesn’t offer me a drink. The message is unmistakable: This is no social call.
“You defied me again, Bryce. I instructed you to call Amanda. You did not. Do you think this is a game?”
I keep my voice steady. “You shouldn't have ambushed me like that. I was handling it.”
He swirls the scotch in his glass, watching the liquid catch the light. “From what I hear, there was only one thing you were handling.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you really believe I don’t monitor your every move? You’re Sterling Industries' most valuable asset, son. Every second of your life is under surveillance. I know about the closet, the midnight trysts, the carnival getaway. Don’t ever think you can pull one over on me.”
“You had me watched?”
“I had you protected.” He puffs the cigar like it’s a punctuation mark. “From catastrophic missteps. Like the one you’ve been making with Gavin’s trashy little sister.”
My spine goes cold, hands clenched into fists at my sides. When I speak, my voice comes out deadly quiet. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Call out the fact that your priorities are fucked? That your dick’s doing all your thinking for you? I handed you a strategic alliance, and you chose a bartender with a dirty mouth.”
Heat explodes behind my ribs. “Her name is Petra. And she’s not—”
“She’s a distraction. She’s insignificant. I’m here to stop you from pissing away everything this family has built for some working-class delusion. Snap out of it.”
“It’s not delusional. She’s the only authentic thing in my life.”
“Then why is she slinking home like a scolded dog? ”
His smug satisfaction makes my stomach plummet. He’s studying my face, cataloging every expression.
“Oh, you don’t know,” he says with fake sympathy. “She saw Amanda and made the choice for you. Commercial flight. Coach class. Back to the shitty life where she belongs.”
My throat constricts. “She left?”
“Twenty-three minutes ago, to be precise. Even tattooed troublemakers recognize when they’re beaten. Smart girl. Saves us both the mess of a direct conversation.”
My father reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, black velvet box—a dark omen with one meaning. One message. He places it on the mahogany coffee table.
“Focus on what’s important—your future with Amanda.”
The ring glints, even in the low light. Thirty-five carats of flawless diamond, emerald cut, surrounded by a halo of smaller stones. It’s the same ring my grandfather used to propose to my grandmother in 1924, sealing the Sterling-Vanderbilt merger that turned two fortunes into an empire.
“Tomorrow night at the wedding reception, you’ll use that ring to propose to Amanda. Just like your grandfather did. Just like every Sterling man before you.”
“That’s… sudden. I haven’t even spoken to Amanda since our breakup.”
“I’ve handled the preliminaries.” He pours himself another scotch. “Told her you’ve been under considerable stress, making stupid mistakes, but that you’re ready to honor your commitments. She’s beside herself, of course. What woman wouldn’t be?”
I stare at the ring like it might grow teeth. “And if I refuse? ”
“Then you’ll discover what defying me costs. Not just you, but the people who depend on you. Starting with sixty million Heartvest users.”
The threat is a surgeon’s blade, twisting with cruel precision.
He’s not just threatening me—he’ll hurt every person whose financial future depends on our company going public.
Every single mom working double shifts to send her kid to college, every blue-collar hero trying to build a nest egg, every hopeful soul who thought we’d help them climb the ladder to a better life.
“I’m sure the Brinkman girl was… an entertaining pastime. She looks like she’d be a hellcat in the sack. You can keep her as a sidepiece for all I care.”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Quit mistaking pussy for principles, son. Acknowledge her for what she is. The bartender you’ve been fucking to rebel against your birthright.”
“I told you her name is Petra.” My fingers dig into the armrest, rage crawling under my skin. “And this isn’t rebellion. It’s my life.”
“Your life is property of Sterling Industries,” he says, his eyes drilling into mine. “Always has been. You’re not going to be the little shit who ruins my legacy. Marry Amanda, then fuck whoever you want. Now, pick up that goddamn ring.”
My hand trembles. The velvet is sandpaper against my fingertips as I slip it into my jacket pocket.
He smashes the glowing end of his cigar into the ashtray. The last tendril of smoke curls into the air and dissipates.
“Knew you’d come around, son. Welcome back to reality.”
I don’t look at him. “Are we finished here? ”
“Not quite.” He straightens his jacket. “I’ll be personally overseeing tomorrow’s engagement. Consider it a father’s pride in his son’s… evolution.”
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Gavin pokes his head through the door, his usual confident demeanor replaced by worry.
“Mr. Sterling. Bryce. Forgive the interruption, but have you seen Petra? She’s gone completely off-grid. I sent her away from rehearsal, expecting her to cool down, but she’s disappeared.”
Reginald’s mouth curves into something that would terrify demons. “Ah yes, your fiery sister. My people tell me she hightailed it to the airport twenty minutes ago.”
“Airport?” Gavin’s brow furrows with genuine confusion. “I know she’s upset, but ditching the wedding entirely? She wouldn’t do that.”
Ice floods my veins. No. Please, God, no. Don’t let him—
“I imagine,” my father says, his tone cold and calculated, “it’s because she learned my son was fucking her while he was still committed to Amanda.”
The words detonate in the room like a bomb.
Gavin turns, his face a growing storm cloud—no emotion yet, just pressure.
I stand so fast the chair legs screech against the floor. “Gavin, let me explain.”
Explain what? That I betrayed him? Lied to his face? Burned every ounce of his trust to the fucking ground?
“Bryce, tell me he’s lying.”
I want to.
But the words are too big to lie and too brutal to speak .
I lock up.
Reginald leans back, entirely too pleased with himself. “Oh, I’m afraid you’re just scratching the surface, Mr. Brinkman. My boy here has been keeping quite a few secrets from you.”
Gavin’s jaw tightens. “What secrets?”
“Well, since we’re tearing the bandage off,” he says, buzzing with satisfaction. “Bryce, want to bring him up to speed on your departure, or should I?”
“Father, no—”
“My son is abandoning Heartvest the instant your IPO finalizes.” Each word drops like an executioner’s axe. “He’s being summoned to the big leagues, where he’ll take the reins of a real company.”
Gavin’s face is disorientation, then disbelief, then rage.
“So, while I’m busting my ass mapping out our company’s future, you’re planning your little escape? And screwing my sister behind my back?”
“It wasn’t like that. I never meant—”
“Meant what? To get caught? To have your old man sweep in and clean up your mess?” He steps toward me. “You’re exactly like him—you use people, lie, manipulate everyone around you to get what you want.”
The accusation hits me like a bullet to the chest. “Gavin, please—”
My father stands, adjusting his cuffs, with the casual indifference of a man who has orchestrated another flawless takedown.
“Well, this has been enlightening.” His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “I’m honoring our deal, son. Your friend keeps his little company. Heartvest lives on. But tomorrow.” He doesn’t blink. “You honor yours. ”
I nod in defeat.
“Gentlemen, you have much to discuss,” he says, pausing with a smirk. “I’ll leave you to it.”
The door closes shut like a coffin lid.
I focus on the Persian rug beneath my feet—intricate patterns that suddenly seem less complex than the mess I’ve made of everything. Gavin’s stare bores into me like a laser. I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes.
“Look at me… I said look at me, you coward.”
I force my gaze upward and regret it immediately. The hatred blazing in his eyes is too much.
“Tell me it’s not true. Tell me you didn’t use my sister.”
The desperation in his voice is more pain than anger. He’s pleading for me to prove his world isn’t collapsing. I don’t breathe. It’s the kind of stillness that comes right before a crash.
“Say it! Say it’s not true, Bryce!”
“I can’t.”
He stumbles back as if the floor has given out.
His eyes dart around the room like he’s wanting to wake up from a nightmare. He starts pacing, his movements jerky and erratic.
“The ATV ride? When you both vanished off-trail and left me searching for twenty minutes? The massage room? When I walked in and you looked like you’d been caught screwing the spa staff. Jesus Christ … It was her, wasn’t it?”
Each one hits like a slap I should have seen coming.