Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
"We start with a visit. A couple weeks. Let him see what a different life can be like. He can see you happy." I keep my voice calm. "Then we figure out the rest."
"A visit?" Hope flickers across her face, then falters. "I don’t know, you haven’t met my parents. They are going to use him to keep me there. They know how to use leverage.”
"We’ll see about that. You’re the one paying the fucking bills. You have the power, baby. Not them."
The house comes into view. Perfect suburban facade, expensive cars in the driveway. There's a black Range Rover that looks like it just drove out of a showroom.
The way Tessa's breathing has gone shallow, I know she’s preparing for battle. Every protective instinct I have is screaming at me to shield her from whatever's waiting in that house.
"Where's Ethan's room?"
She points up to the second floor, and I look up to see a figure silhouetted against the light, looking down at us.
"He knows we're here," she says, relief flooding her voice. "He's waiting."
"Course he is. Kid's been counting the hours." I turn to cup her face. "We’ll bring him home. You ready for this?"
"No. But let's do it anyway."
The front door opens before we ring the bell.
Richard Quinn stands there in a thousand-dollar suit, looking like Central Casting’s idea of a successful executive. I recognize Tessa Quinn’s business manager and father from my research... also known as stalking.
But I can see the stress in the tight lines around his eyes, the way his jaw's clenched like he's bracing for impact. Maybe he’s smarter than I thought.
Behind him, a woman who must be Tessa's mother hovers in the hallway. Same bone structure as her daughter, but where Tessa's beautiful, this woman looks brittle. Hollow. Like someone who's been performing for so long she's forgotten who she really is.
"Tessa." Richard's voice is carefully modulated. He throws me a one-second glance, then back to her, but I note the tick that twitches below his eye. "You look... different."
"Dad." She steps closer to me, and I feel the slight tremor in her hand. "This is Beau."
His dark eyes, so much like hers, return to mine. "Mr...?"
"Boone." I don't offer my hand. We’re not here to play nice. Besides, if I got his hand in mine, knowing what I know, I’d break it. Not only did this man spend years turning his children into products—and I can see exactly what it cost them—he also scared my baby girl into thinking she was in real danger.
The only reason I’ll even let it pass is because she said he never actually touched her.
"Mr. Boone." He sniffs, then focuses back on Tessa. "We need to talk. There are... complications. With your decision to disappear."
"I didn't disappear. I left."
"Without consideration for your contractual obligations. Or your family."
The word 'family' hits wrong, and I see Tessa flinch. This asshole has no idea what that word means.
"Where's Ethan?" she asks.
"Upstairs. Packing, apparently." Richard's mouth twists. "He seems to think he's going on some kind of adventure?"
"He is."
"Tessa." Her mother's voice is sharp. "You can't just take him. He's fifteen. He has school, and responsibilities—"
"What responsibilities?" Tessa's voice turns hard, and I feel proud of my girl for standing up to them. "You mean the YouTube channel you make him film? The sponsored posts? The brand partnerships where you parade him around like a trained monkey? The way you use his neurodivergence slash autism like product placement? It’s all so trending now, isn’t it? Being all inclusive. Nice move."
"That's not fair—"
"Isn't it?" She steps forward, and I watch her transform from nervous girl to fierce protector. "When's the last time either of you asked Ethan what he wanted? When's the last time you treated him like a person instead of a revenue stream? Got him some help instead of exploiting his uniqueness?"
Richard's face flushes. "Everything we did was for both of you. The house, the cars, the opportunities—"
"Were paid for by us. With our childhoods. Our privacy. Our mental health."
"Mental health?" Her mother's laugh is bitter. "Drama, you mean. You've always been dramatic, Tessa. Ever since you were small."
Something dark and protective flares in my chest. The urge to step between Tessa and these brand managers masquerading as parents, to shield her from their poison, is overwhelming. But she's handling herself. She doesn't need me to fight this battle.
Not yet.
"I want to see Ethan," she demands.
"Of course. But first, we need to discuss the financial implications of your... tantrum." Richard glances at me, clearly uncomfortable having this conversation in front of a stranger. Especially one that looks like he’s about to detach his head from his neck. "Your brand partnerships alone are worth—"
"Were worth. Past tense." Tessa crosses her arms. "I terminated all my contracts. Deleted my accounts. It's over, Dad."