CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NATHAN
THE SUN WAS barely up when I laced up my running shoes and hit the pavement Sunday morning.
The early hours always had a different energy to them.
Quiet. Still. The world remained asleep while I worked through everything that had been bouncing around in my head.
It wasn’t about the miles or the pace. It was about clearing out the noise, making room for the things that needed to be thought through.
I was so caught up in my head that I barely noticed the ache in my muscles or the sharpness of the morning air.
The rhythm of my footsteps, one after another, was all I could focus on.
Every time my foot hit the ground, I pushed away another thought, another nagging question.
My thoughts began to pull me under, and for a moment, I found myself running slower, the steady beat of my heart in sync with the rhythm of my breathing.
But as I rounded the corner, I almost didn’t notice the cemetery coming into view.
It wasn’t far from here. It was close enough that I passed it every time I ran through this neighborhood.
The stone gates, the quiet rows of gravestones, the soft, solemn way it always seemed to greet me.
I never liked cemeteries. Yet, here I was again, standing in front of her gravestone. The seven year anniversary.
Seven years.
It felt like a lifetime ago, and still like it was only yesterday.
I bent down, letting my fingers trace the letters of her name—Sophia Edge.
The engraving was simple, nothing extravagant, just like her.
She didn’t need fancy words or a grand memorial.
The memory of her was enough. The smell of her perfume, the sound of her laugh, the way she would tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear when I’d sit beside her on the couch.
Those were the things that kept her alive in my heart.
The air was still, and for a moment, I could almost hear her voice, calling me back from the edge of the cemetery. But it was just the wind, rustling through the trees, whispering the same things it always whispered to people like me who came to visit the dead but found no comfort in it.
A hand on my shoulder made me snap back to reality.
It was James, my personal driver. I hadn’t even noticed him walk up. He was always quiet like that, always in the background when I needed him to be. I looked up at him. He gave me a polite nod, but his face was tense.
“Mr. Edge,” he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. “You have a call. It’s your father.”
My gut tightened, but I was numb to it now, too used to the hollow ache of his absence.
I nodded, muttering a quiet “Thanks,” before taking the phone from him.
I raised it to my ear, bracing myself for the conversation I knew was coming.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, trying to sound neutral, even though the words felt like a weight on my tongue.
“Nathan.” His voice, gravelly and distant, made the distance between us feel even more suffocating. “I won’t be able to make it today.”
I exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it.
“Of course not.” I shouldn’t have been surprised.
It’s been seven years, and he hasn’t once been to visit her grave.
His absence had become a habit, a silent partner to the anger and guilt he wore so thickly.
And I was learning that it was a habit I’d grown used to, too.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He wasn’t really sorry. If he was, he would’ve been here. But the apology was just part of the script he’d been reading from for years.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him, my voice sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t help it. “It’s just me out here, anyway.”
There was a long pause on the other end.
I could hear him shuffling around, likely somewhere far away from this conversation, probably on a golf course or in one of his boardrooms, surrounded by the business of life that had consumed him after she died.
His voice came back through the phone, strained but cold, like he was already checked out of this conversation.
“I’ll call you later,” he said, like he always did, when it was convenient for him.
“Yeah, sure.” I hung up before he could say anything more.
I stood there for a moment, the weight of the phone still heavy in my hand.
I could feel the anger rising in my chest—anger at him, at the way he’d retreated into himself after my mom passed.
I knew it wasn’t just the grief. It was the bitterness, the loss of something deep inside him that had snapped after her death.
That man, the one who was my father, was gone.
In his place was someone unrecognizable.
Someone who buried himself in business, in distractions, in anything that kept him from having to deal with the person he’d lost.
And I’d be damned if I was going to let myself fall into that same pit.
I remembered, suddenly, that I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t end up like him.
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let love destroy me, wouldn’t let myself get lost in someone the way he did with her.
The death of my mother, her sudden, painful departure, had changed him for the worse, and I had no interest in following that same road. I couldn’t.
So I made a vow. A promise. I would never fall in love. Not the way they did. Not the way he did.
It wasn’t worth the pain. It wasn’t worth the heartbreak.
I turned away from the grave, feeling that familiar ache settle deep into my chest. I wasn’t sure if it would ever go away, but I wasn’t going to let it consume me.
The sound of James’ car door opening broke my thoughts, and I climbed into the back seat, letting the door click shut behind me.
The car hummed to life, the engine quiet as we pulled away from the cemetery.
The weight of the morning still pressed down on me, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the road ahead.
The sound of approaching footsteps brought me back to the present.
I forced my gaze away from the cemetery and turned my head in time to see another jogger passing by.
A cold sweat dripped down my back, the rhythmic pounding of my heart against my chest providing a steady beat to the thoughts swirling in my mind.
Elise.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she looked at me, the way she made me feel like I was more than just the Edge heir. She was sweet, kind, good, and God help me, I wanted to be close to her. But I couldn’t afford to get distracted.
The marriage stipulation. My inheritance was tied to it, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to get it. If that meant getting close to Elise, making her believe in something real, then so be it. I had to win her over. I had to make her think we were building something meaningful.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, my father’s voice echoed.
Not the barking CEO he’d been in boardrooms or the cold, calculating man I spent most of my life resenting, but the one who, in the final days before he died, looked at me with something like regret in his eyes and told me not to become him.
Don’t sacrifice love for legacy. Don’t use people the way I did.
I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t be like him. And yet, here I was. Manipulating a woman who had never been anything but good to me. Leading her on with no intention of giving her the truth. What did that make me, if not his son in every way that counted?
The question settled in my chest like lead.
Was I already becoming the man I swore I wouldn’t be?
And worse, if Elise ever found out the truth, would she look at me the same way I used to look at my father?
Because right now, it didn’t matter how sweet or sincere she was.
She was in the way of what I needed. And I was about to hurt her anyway.