Chloe #3
I opened up to her, and she turned my vulnerability into a weapon.
I’ve seen the way Tristan and his brothers interact, the way they support each other. I’ve seen them come to each other’s defense dozens of times, like they’re taking on the world together.
What Genevieve did to me, what my parents did to me, that isn’t how family is supposed to work.
“I don’t understand why you had to spy at all,” I say, turning back to my father. “Wasn’t the partnership with Thorne Enterprises enough? MediaSphere has been doing well on its own. Why did you think this was necessary to get ahead? We were already in a strong position.”
My father’s eyes narrow, something passing across his features—pity and disdain. “Good lord. You really don’t understand, do you?”
I stare back at him blankly.
“This is a cutthroat business,” he says, his voice slow and condescending, like he’s explaining something to a child.
“It’s not just about being good or having a successful partnership.
It’s about staying ahead of the competition.
Being strategic. Sometimes that means making the tough choices, doing things that others don’t have the spine to do. ”
“Cheating,” I interrupt. “You’re talking about cheating.”
His lip curls. “I’m talking about winning.”
“Winning doesn’t mean anything if you don’t play by the rules,” I retort. “Why did you have to ruin everything?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Then he says, “This is why we wanted to leave you out of it. You weren’t going to be rational, given your feelings for Tristan Thorne.”
Anger tightens my voice. “Don’t bring Tristan into this. I’d be just as pissed even if I wasn’t involved with him.”
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Then you’re naive. You have no idea what it takes to get ahead in this industry.”
I take a deep breath, something settling into place. “I can’t be a part of this, whatever this is. If winning means losing myself and my principles, then I don’t want any part of it.”
“Speak up,” he demands, his tone curt.
I know he heard me the first time. But I lift my chin and project my voice clearly across the room. “I said, I don’t want any part of this. I quit.”
There’s a tense pause. My father’s face hardens, anger and something almost like disappointment crossing his features.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says, his voice tight and controlled. “You’re walking away from everything we’ve built, from everything you’ve worked for.”
I stand my ground. “No, I’m walking away from compromising who I am. If this is what it takes to be part of MediaSphere, then it’s not worth it. I’m not going to be your pawn anymore.”
His expression tightens, but he stays silent. I can almost hear the gears turning in his head, calculating how to respond, how to salvage something from this confrontation. Fuck that. There’s nothing he can say that will change my mind now.
Without another word, I turn and walk toward the door.
He starts to protest, his voice rising in frustration. “You don’t understand what you’re doing. You’ll regret this. Chloe, come back here this instant—”
But I don’t stop. I can’t. I refuse to listen to any more of his justifications or excuses. My heart is pounding, and every step I take away from him feels like a victory even though my body protests with a slight limp from the accident.
I manage to hold myself together as I take the elevator back down to the lobby, my breath coming in shallow, controlled bursts.
The lobby’s polished floors reflect the waning light from the tall windows, and I walk with a firm stride, despite the occasional sharp reminder from my injuries. I manage to make it to my car before the tears come.
I sit in the driver’s seat for a long moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly as my vision blurs. The tension of the day, the betrayal from my own family, and the finality of my decision all come crashing down on me, and I can’t hold in my emotions any longer.
And, finally, I don’t have to anymore.
I pull out my phone, tears streaking down my cheeks. My hands are shaking, and I can barely see the screen as I dial Tristan’s number.
The call connects almost instantly, and his voice comes through low, edged with hope. “Dimples? Are you okay? What’s—”
I can barely hold it together, my voice cracking as I speak. “I—I need you to know that you can do whatever you need to do to protect yourself. If there’s anything you need to do with my family, to make sure you’re safe, to secure your company… just do it.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence on the other end, and I can almost hear him processing my words.
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you were holding back because you didn’t want to hurt me,” I tell him. “But you don’t need to do that anymore. Do whatever you have to do. What you would’ve done if… if I wasn’t in the picture at all.”
“Chloe, are you—”
Before he can finish, I hang up, my heart aching at the finality of it all. The phone drops into my lap as I drag in a shaky breath and release it slowly.
It’s over.