Page 122 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

Fine.

He was getting one.

By the time I shoved through the front doors of his real estate firm, my blood was boiling.

The receptionist barely had time to look up before I stormed past her desk.

“Sir,” she started, but I ignored her, pushing straight through the heavy wooden doors into Hank’s office.

He was waiting.

The smug bastard was leaning back in his chair, a glass of whiskey in hand, as if he knew I’d come.

“Ethan,” he drawled, taking a slow sip. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

I slammed my palms onto his desk. “You think this is a game?”

Hank didn’t even flinch. He just smiled, lazy and self-assured, like he already knew how this was going to play out.

“I think it’s business,” he said smoothly. “Something you and your brothers clearly don’t understand.”

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.

“Medford is changing, Ethan. You either change with it, or you get left behind.”

I clenched my jaw. “You set us up.”

Hank let out a low chuckle, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Set you up? That's a bold accusation.”

He tilted his head.

“But let’s say, hypothetically, someone did vandalize your shop. Left it open. Slashed a few tires. Do you really think the town will care how it happened? Or will they just see a failing business, run by three reckless brothers who don’t take care of their clients’ cars?”

My hands curled into fists.

“If you don’t sell,” Hank continued, “the bad press will put you out of business anyway.” He smirked. “And let’s face it, the Gradys have been on thin ice for years.

“The only reason you’ve lasted this long is because people are sentimental. But once they lose faith? Once they start going to other mechanics?” He shrugged. “It’s over.”

I wanted to hit him.

Wanted to drive my fist straight through that smug expression and make him feel even a fraction of what he’d put Aurora through. What he was trying to do to my family.

But I didn’t. Because that was exactly what he wanted.

Hank wasn’t just a bully, he was a snake.

He knew how to push people just far enough, how to make them snap so he could turn around and play the victim.

That was what he’d done to George Bennett.

That was what he was still doing to Aurora.

And if I lost control now, he’d twist it.

Turn it into another story to fuel his smear campaign against us.

I forced myself to breathe. To think.

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