You Are My Reason - Willow Winters Page 0,2

an early grave like my mother. I’m not responsible for the mess my father’s referring to and I refuse to take the blame.

I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone any longer.

My father’s face reddens before he picks up a cup of hot coffee. He holds the black mug with both hands, blowing across the top and refusing to back down.

“You would have gone through hell—”

“No, I wouldn’t have,” I say, cutting him off, although my voice doesn’t reflect any emotion whatsoever. This is a turning point in our relationship. Instead of his disappointment creeping under my skin, it’s the other way around. I look him in the eye as I add, “I would have been just fine.”

A moment passes where the only sound is the ticking of the large clock on the right side of the room. “It wasn’t my mess you cleaned up, and we both know it.” He’s the first to look away but instead of showing remorse, his expression only reflects his anger.

“Did you need anything else?” I ask. I just want to get the hell out of here and back to the construction site. This office reminds me of my grandfather, a man I loved and trusted. But he was a man who turned out to be just like all the other powerful men in this city. Ruled by corruption, driven by greed, imperfect. Devastated is the word a former therapist would use to describe my reaction when I found out the truth about my family.

“I’m tired of you getting into trouble,” my father says and I scoff. This is the first time in my life I’ve truly been in control of myself. No more fucking around, starting trouble. These recent events have been sobering. When I was a hormone-filled teenager dealing with grief and anger, it was easy to act out and pick fights. Caused first by the death of my grandfather and then later, my mother.

At thirty-three and on my own, I’m not like that anymore. I finally have my life together … all but the ties to my father. It’s a tangled mess of lies and offshore bank accounts. Much like the dealings of the elite who rule this city.

The thought makes my gaze fall to the floor before I look back up to the shelves and mindlessly scan the spines of the antique texts.

Being aware of what my father did makes all those old memories of losing my mother surface. My stomach churns and my blood heats, the adrenaline coursing in my veins pushing me to confront the man I no longer know.

I bring a clenched fist to my mouth as I clear my throat and take a few steps toward him. He’s the one who called this meeting, demanded it really. But he hasn’t even risen from his chair. Lazy prick.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answer him easily. “I haven’t got a single problem on my mind.” I give him a polite smile and keep a charming look on my face. It only makes him angrier and I love every second of his pissed-off expression. He thought I’d feel as if I owed him.

I don’t owe him a damn thing.

I may be just like him in looks. Tall, dark and handsome, or so I’ve been told. I’ve perfected a brilliant smile with an air of ease that’s made to fool and seduce the world at large. It makes sense that he’s a lawyer. It’s the family business but if it wasn’t, it’d still be the profession most apt for my father.

“You need to quit this charade and do what you’re told, Mason.” He stands from his seat quickly, his chair rolling backward until it hits the wall. It disturbs the blinds and streams of dim light flicker into the room.

“I don’t need to do anything but breathe and pay taxes.”

He could order me around like that all he wanted back when I was a child or before I knew the truth, but now I have no respect for the man in front of me. I’m disgusted by him and caught on the edge of what’s right and wrong. I should turn him in to the authorities and let him rot. I grit my teeth as I stare back at him. It’s what’s right, but I can’t bring myself to send my own father to prison.

A low hum of admonishment deep in his throat makes the smirk on my face widen into a smile.

“I have my own company,