Page 6 of Billionaire's Bookworm

“Then it can wait until morning,” I said, keeping my tone firm but not unkind.

“Understood, sir. Have a good evening.”

I ended the call and set the phone to silent, resisting the urge to toss it into the ocean. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, the screen lit up again—Amy’s name flashing insistently.

“What now, Amy?” I muttered, answering reluctantly.

“I can’t believe your audacity!” she fumed without preamble. “You just left! Do you have any idea how that makes us look?”

“Amy,” I began, rubbing a hand over my face, “it’s late.”

“It’s not even midnight,” she snapped. “Honestly, Wade, it’s like youwantto be written out of Dad’s will. You can’t keep running away every time things get a little uncomfortable.”

“I’m not running away,” I countered, though even I heard the defensive edge in my voice. “I’m choosing not to engage in pointless charades.”

“Pointless?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Networking is hardly pointless. Priscilla was waiting for you, and you couldn’t even be bothered to show some basic courtesy.”

“Priscilla is more interested in a merger than in me as a person,” I retorted. “And I have no desire to be a pawn in Dad’s business schemes.”

“You’re impossible!” she exclaimed, exasperation clear. “One day, you’re going to realize that isolating yourself isn’t the answer.”

“Maybe so,” I conceded quietly. “But I’d rather be alone than surrounded by people who only see dollar signs when they look at me.”

There was a brief pause, the sound of her sigh barely audible over the distant crash of waves.

“I just worry about you,” she admitted, her tone softening slightly.

“I know,” I replied, a hint of a smile touching my lips. “But maybe it’s time you let me worry about myself for a change.”

“Fine. Enjoy your lonely life then,” she huffed. “One day, it’ll be just you, your fancy cars, and that bourbon you love so much.”

“Sounds peaceful,” I murmured.

“Ugh!” With that eloquent response, she hung up.

I stared at the dark screen for a moment before chuckling. “Goodnight to you too, sis.”

Pocketing the phone, I leaned against the deck railing, gazing out at the restless ocean. The whitecaps glowed under the moonlight, each wave whispering secrets as it kissed the shore. I felt a mix of relief and an undercurrent of melancholy. Family ties were complicated, woven with threads of obligation, expectation, and genuine care that often tangled into knots.

I gazed out at the ocean, the endless horizon a canvas of possibilities. Somewhere out there, beyond the glitz and the pretense, was a life that resonated with who I truly was—a life not dictated by boardroom deals or society’s ruthless climb.

My thoughts drifted back to a night fifteen years ago. College days, when the world felt wide open and uncharted. I’d met someone—a woman whose eyes held galaxies, whose laughter eased the weight of the world. She probably had no idea, but she’d changed the way I looked at the world forever. Maybe even had been the catalyst that led me to build my own fortune, without relying on my family’s money.

And maybe I’d been searching for some version of her ever since.

The bourbon warmed me from the inside out as I took another sip, the smoky richness a balm to old wounds. I wasn’t some starry-eyed kid anymore, but I still held out hope—however small—that there was someone out there who saw the world the way I did.

Stepping back inside, I made my way to the study. Shelves of well-read books greeted me like old friends. I sank into the leather armchair, picking up a novel at random. The familiar scent of aged paper and ink was comforting.

As I tried to lose myself in the pages, the words blurred. My mind kept circling back to the same thoughts. Maybe I was fooling myself. Maybe that connection I’d felt was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

But then again, maybe not.

I glanced at the bourbon, its amber liquid catching the light. “Here’s to finding out,” I murmured, lifting the glass in a silent toast.

Leaning back, I propped my feet on the ottoman, the soft sound of the waves providing a steady rhythm. Tonight, I’d let go of expectations—family’s, society’s, even my own. Tomorrow was another day, with its own set of challenges and possibilities.

For now, I had good bourbon, a good book, and the calming lullaby of the sea.

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