Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Do not bring your brother into this conversation.”
I laughed, the sound dry and brittle. “No, I’m never supposed to talk about him, am I? We all pretend we’re great. That we’ve moved past losing him.” I grimaced. “The truth is we’re still stuck in that hospital, watching him die. He would hate that. He would hate what has happened to our family.” I looked directly at my father. “He would hate you for allowing it.”
The color drained from my father’s face. “You will not see Montgomery Logan again. You will refrain from these hysterical outbursts.”
“Or…” I let the word trail off.
“Or you will no longer be employed here. You insist you had nothing to do with that boy’s sudden windfall. I disagree. I think he has you so confused, you have no idea what the truth is.”
I stood. “I think you’re wrong. I think you are the one blinded to the truth. Call Carmen. He will tell you exactly what happened. So would Alfred. Logan didn’t use anyone. I did nothing wrong in my handling of the account.”
“I intend to.”
“Be my guest.”
His eyes became frostier. “You forget, I don’t need your permission. This is my company. You need to find your respect, Charlotte. I’m—”
“Disappointed. I’m aware. You’ve been disappointed in me since the day Josh died. You’ve made that very clear. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done. Perfect grades. No trouble. Going to school and getting my degree, with honors, for a career I never wanted but hoped would finally win me your approval. But I’m never going to get it.” I barked out another laugh. “I just got that—after all these years. I am never going to be the one you love, because that person died.” I stared at him, realization sinking in. “All these years, you’ve wished it were me who got sick. That Josh lived.”
My father stood so fast the chair hit the wall behind him. “Charlotte!” he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with shock.
I held up my hand. “Get out of my office. My resignation will be on your desk by noon. I’m done.”
“We are not finished with this conversation.”
“Yes, we are. I can’t keep trying to be something I’m not. I’m not Josh. I never will be, and I need to find my own life now.”
He stared at me, his face now lax. “Charlotte,” he began, his voice quieter.
I lowered my head, suddenly too tired to hold it up anymore. “Leave, please.”
My father didn’t say another word. I heard the door click shut behind him, and I sank into the chair, my legs trembling.
I had expected my father to be angry. What I hadn’t expected was my reaction. The accusations. His face when I confirmed that he had wished it had been me who died, not Josh.
When I realized that no matter what I did, it would never be enough.
I wasn’t enough for him. It didn’t matter how many deals I put together. How many victories I won on his behalf. How much I lived my life in an effort to please him. Even if I married a man he chose and gave him grandkids—I would never be who he wanted.
Because I wasn’t Josh.
A wave of dizziness hit me so hard, I had to put my head between my legs. I felt shame flood me, worry over what had just occurred filling my chest.
I had quit my job. Told off my father. Unraveled whatever fraying strands had been left of our relationship. I had no idea what my mother would do. Probably side with my father, so in effect, I had lost them both.
Not that I really had them, I had to remind myself.
My head began to pound, and my legs shook. My breathing became harsh, and I struggled to get in enough oxygen. The room pulsated around me. Somewhere in the background, I heard voices. Footsteps. I grabbed the edge of the desk, needing to stand, desperately trying to find my footing.
Why was the room spinning?
I heard noises, shouting, and suddenly, my door flew open, crashing against the wall. A voice, a voice I knew, a voice I loved, filled the room, and he was there.
Logan. His warmth was close, his hands on me, holding me upright.
“Lottie, baby, what is it?”
“H-help,” was the only word that came out before the room went black.
Chapter 22
Logan
I paced the waiting room in the hospital, the last couple of hours a blur. I had gone home after Lottie left for work, but I was too restless to stay. Too worried about her father. I’d had a glimpse of him last night before he left the room. Lottie thought he had left, but he was at the back, and there was no doubt he heard the announcement. I didn’t want her to suffer because of me, and I had a feeling she would.