Redemption (Broken Empire #1)

Chapter 1 Gabriel

Gabriel

Asticky note clung to the glass frame protecting my fake master's degree.

I couldn’t help but smile. My brother Damien hated owing people anything. We weren’t even, not that it mattered now.

The fluorescent lights in my poorly decorated office flickered.

Clearly, the previous boss had no sense of feng shui, but that was a problem money could fix.

My sisters tried to convince me that unless I left with nothing but the clothes on my back, this new life wouldn't be "authentic.

" They just wanted me to come crawling back after a few weeks of suffering.

Nothing in this world could drag me back to New York. The family couldn’t understand that.

Especially not my father. The senile bastard.

I peeled the note off the frame and hung the forgery on the wall, turning away from my partial reflection. My office was shit, and I needed coffee. I had a couple of hours to kill before meeting my subordinates.

Leaving the marine biology center, I headed to the café down the street. The coastal air was a far cry from the stench of New York—fresh, clean, and quiet. I didn't see or hear anyone during the short walk. Another reason I liked this place.

The door chimed as I entered, and a half-asleep worker perked up. She was cute, but I had other things to do this morning.

“Welcome to Cabana Cup,” she said softly, with just the right amount of forced enthusiasm.

“Thanks,” I replied.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at me.

“I’ll just have a black coffee.”

“That’ll be $3,” she said, tearing her eyes away to prepare my drink.

I slid my card into the chip reader and looked around the café. It seemed like the perfect spot to gather my thoughts.

“Sir?”

I turned back to her.

“Yes?”

“It says your card was declined.”

I stared at her incredulously. “Trust me, that’s impossible.”

I slid my card back into the reader, holding it in place while the screen took its sweet time to say declined again. I glanced from the cold metal card in my hand to her name-tag curving over her chest, then to her nervous green eyes.

“Sophia, this is a mistake.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, this one’s on the house.”

She clearly didn’t want a confrontation at 4 a.m. over three dollars. I got it, but something was wrong.

“Just give me a second. It must be because I’m out of state.”

I pulled out my phone to log into my bank account.

“Oh, where are you from? Are you a tourist?” She asked.

I looked up with a warm smile and then back at my phone as I typed in my password.

“I’m from New York, but this is home now. I took a job at—”

A wave of adrenaline shot through me.

Accounts frozen.

Those bold letters overshadowed the grayed-out millions beneath them.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

I had no idea how long I’d been staring at my phone, trying to process what I was seeing.

“Of course,” I said, forcing myself to relax. “It’s just the bank being cautious since I’m out of state.”

I took the coffee. “Thanks, Sophia. I’ll pay you back later.”

Finding the most secluded corner of the café, I sank into a cushioned booth.

Every single one of my accounts was frozen.

I dragged my fingers through my dark hair, flipping it out of my eyes, still staring at my phone.

My stock portfolio was empty. Nearly a billion dollars in stocks—liquidated.

I didn’t need to check the transaction history to know the obvious.

My father took everything.

How the hell did he get access to my accounts? That was my fucking money. Accounts frozen. Fucking bullshit. Thanks to him, I only had enough cash to cover a month of expenses. My first day trying to create a normal life for myself was off to a bad start.

I sipped my coffee and watched Sophia as she swept between tables, lost in her own world. Humming, on autopilot. She shifted uncomfortably, stopped humming, and stole a glance, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“You work nights by yourself?” I asked, hoping for a distraction.

“Yep, just me. Only on weekends, though. This is one of my many jobs.”

I took another sip.

“Well, the coffee’s great. What’s your secret?”

“It’s an old family recipe. I just put a few scoops of coffee into the machine and press brew. A true art form.”

I laughed, then remembered I drunkenly commissioned a painting weeks ago for my new office.

I wouldn’t be able to afford that now, not that it meant anything to me.

I opened my contacts and found “Henry’s Gallery and Commissions.

” If I remembered right, “Gallery” was just a converted living room in the guys house.

Too early to call. I sent a quick text instead: Good morning, Henry. I’m canceling the commission I ordered a few weeks ago. After careful consideration, I no longer feel the painting would be a good fit for my office. I will come by later to collect the partial payment I previously made.

Perfect. I hit send.

Sophia reappeared with a plate of pastries and more coffee, smiling brightly.

“Want to try some more old family recipes?”

“Sure, but—”

“Don’t worry about it. My boss lets me eat a few on my break. We can share.”

I gestured to the booth across from me. She beamed, setting the plate down.

“I’ll grab myself a mug,” she said with a playful smile.

I watched her ass as she walked away and realized I should have more faith in the universe. My father freezing my accounts was just a pathetic attempt to drag me back. Everything would be fine. I took a bite of a pastry, then my phone rang. Great. It was Henry.

“Hello, Henry,” I answered.

“You can’t just cancel a commission,” a fiery woman’s voice snapped back.

“I can, and I did. Give the phone to Henry.”

“It’s already completed. You owe me a thousand dollars.”

I stood up, pacing—a habit I couldn’t break while on the phone.

“Look, nothing you say is going to change this. Sell it to someone else. I didn’t want to do this, but it is what it is.”

Silence.

“Fuck you.”

I heard it first in my left ear, then through the phone in my right. I turned to see Sophia, the cute, soft-spoken woman, glaring at me like she wanted to claw my eyes out.

“Henry?” I teased.

Sophia stormed past me, grabbed my coffee and pastries, and threw everything into the sink behind the counter.

Then she turned back, angrier than before, fists clenched.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she demanded.

“What is there to say?”

“You’re an asshole,” she snapped.

“Sophia, that’s no way to talk to a customer.”

“You aren’t a customer. You’re a freeloading broke dick.”

I took a step toward her and spoke calmly. “I’m not broke, or a freeloader. I’m actually very rich, and my—”

“Yet you can’t afford a three-dollar coffee? Oh, look at you, Mr. Fucking Moneybags. Get the hell out of here, or I’ll call the cops.”

I laughed. “What are they going to do? Arrest me because you gave me coffee for free?”

“What the cops do depends on what I say you did.”

“What are you going to say Sophia? That I grabbed you? Bent you over the counter and forced you to make me coffee? Relax.”

She silently picked up the café’s phone and started dialing.

The door chimed as I hurried out into the cold morning air and down the street.

I needed to figure out a way to get as much money as possible, which would be a challenge without doing anything illegal, The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but I was ready for a drink.