43. Hayden

FORTY-THREE

HAYDEN

My plan is simple.

Barge into my father's office, demand he publicly confess to stealing Juliana's game, or else I'll ensure his piss-poor work logs become the business of the entire office.

He can scream and shout all he likes, threaten my trust fund—hell, he can make the call to his bank and pull the plug right in front of me. I don't care. I may have let his actions slide while Juliana enjoyed some mental rest days, but I'm not standing by and watching her suffer for one more second at the expense of the piece of shit who calls himself my father.

Warren is a plague, whose time has come to rot.

I bank a left, choosing a different route to his office than last time to avoid Doris, who would gladly rip me a new one for ditching work for a week straight. Surprisingly, HR tried calling several times and left stern voicemails about me playing hooky, despite the scene I made in my father's office. Maybe Doris tipped them off, demanding my return, only so she can throw scut work on my desk. If only she knew the truth. Perhaps she will, maybe even in a few short hours.

Breaking through the maze of cubicles, I behold the wall of glass, housing executives and other higher ups, all clacking away on their keyboards like last time. Except... I squint, heaving a sigh. What a shock. My father's not in his office.

Wearing a frown, I retrace my steps and come out the opposite end of the maze, only to meander down another hallway, en route to the elevators.

Dammit, dammit...

I planned to confront him at work, where he can see firsthand what's at stake for him, witness all who would stare him right in the face through his office windows, if he foolishly decides not to comply. Given his absence, I'll settle with plan B—knocking on his front door. It'll have to do. I'm not waiting any long—

I skid to a halt as a soft sound floats into my ear, so faint I nearly miss it. I listen intently, realizing it's a woman. She seems sad... really sad. Cupping an ear, I creep toward the whimpering noise until I find myself outside the breakroom, its door cracked, just barely enough for me to peer inside. Listening to that heartbreaking sound, uneasiness churns in me, enough that I dare a peek.

Only to immediately regret that I had.

"Please... you won..." Juliana sobs into her hands.

Across from her, my father sneers in satisfaction.

"Please... I'll do anything..."

My heart tears in two, eyes filling with tears, but my feet... they're encased in fortified cement as I stare out to sea, gripped by the sight of a tsunami barreling to shore.

"Anything?" he muses, encircling her, and I can't unsee the way his eyes trail down the length of her body, evoking my revulsion.

Eyes wide and frantic, she tracks his movements, hardly able to hold his gaze. "Yes— anything! I mean it. I'll do anything if you just add my name to the developers' credits. I won't tell anyone what you did."

He stops before her, much too close for comfort. "Ohhh, and why would that matter? No one would believe a word out of that pretty mouth of yours."

"I-I..."

A scream lodges in my throat, listening to her stutter, pointing her gaze to her feet, while he runs a hand down her arm.

"T-there have b-been rumors."

Pinching her chin, he lifts her to eye level. "Have there, now?"

"There have."

He chuckles, craning her neck farther back, inching even closer. "I'm listening."

"Online... there's been talk online. On gaming forms." A snicker escapes him, but she pushes ahead. "One of my followers was at DreamScape and recognized the similarities between the games."

He yawns dramatically. "I'm just quivering with fear," he taunts, flashing a wide smile.

"He posted about it—and it's been getting reposted."

Silence descends over the breakroom. Just for a split second—but enough to reveal my father's interest, although Juliana may not notice.

"How cute. You think that's what concerns me, hmm? A little internet gossip from a handful of your fans?"

Another sob rattles through her, then thunders through my bones. Fuck! Move, dammit! I tell my legs, earning no response, as if my mind-to-muscle connection is severed by despair.

"Please..." she blubbers a wet sound, tears gliding down her cheeks. "I'll do anything," she repeats, pleading. "I'll pose as someone else and deny their claims. Start up new rumors as a distraction. Tell my followers it's just one huge coincidence. Even confess to your board, tell them it was me who stole the concept—that the pirate game's been in development longer..."

His head tilts curiously.

Chest heaving on struggled breaths, she powers on. "Just add me to the developers' credits, that's all I ask. I've worked on this game for years, and you've squashed its chances of success. I don't have the resources to compete with yours."

I'm going to be sick, I think, when he catches a strand of her hair, twisting it between his fingers. Juliana shies away, squirming, only for his grip to tighten, reeling her chin back into place.

"Look at me," he murmurs, his voice barely audible to me. "That's it... You're just like your mom. Think you can get anything you want by spreading your legs."

Nonononono...

"W-what?"

"Don't play coy, Juliana. It's just us here, no one else." His voice turns rough as he sweeps a thumb along her jaw. "I saw the way you looked at me at the derby."

Her mouth slackens. "Wha—"

"Don't try denying it." His eyes roam down her figure once again. "Why else would you wear such a low shirt when coming to beg for my mercy, hmm?" he taunts, despite her shirt being perfectly modest.

He tsks at her silence, brushing a hand across her arm as a blush creeps up her neck—and the sight of that red stain... it's twisted. Appalling. And kills a part of my soul. I don't know if she actually feels an attraction toward my father, or if grief has rendered her one last option. Frankly, in this moment, I don't care.

I just need to save her.

Adrenaline surges through me when he leans closer than ever, traveling a hand down the small of her back, his gaze fixated on her ass.

Please, please, please, please, I beg for that cement to crumble.

As he retreats, I swear I catch her cringing, before she masks the look with fright.

Come on, come on! A crack splits down my bondage.

He grabs her by the nape, forcing her to look at him.

FUCK, MOVE! Another splinter.

"Care to know how to get what you want? You can start by unbuttoning your blouse, then I'll think about adding your name."

Like the snap of a band, I break free. Blinded by rage and fury and promises of familial murder, I reach for the door handle, meaning to tear it back on its—

I gasp when he whips around. "But that can wait," he says, bounding for the door. "I have a board meeting in ten minutes. Conference Room A. You'll come and make your little confession, then we'll find a quiet place, and you can show me how much you want it."

Before I can gauge her reaction, I sprint down the hallway with the intention of coming back and turn a corner, right as the door creaks open. Warren's humiliation can wait, even just for ten minutes, because right now, there's a more pressing matter...

Juliana needs me.