Page 131 of Mexico Can Choke On It
The blow lands exactly where he intended. He knows my weak spots better than a surgeon understands anatomy, and he never misses.
A Sterling always honors his commitments.
The family mantra sounds noble. But it really means:no way out.
“Your mother is livid,” he continues. “Amanda is the ideal starter wife and future mother of your children. She checks every box—elegant, obedient,and built to bear heirs. She’s been vetted and approved for the Sterling bloodline. You don’t discard an asset like that.”
My finger drums faster on my leg, beyond my control.
“Amanda will accompany you to New York,” he declares with the finality of a judge’s gavel. “Your personal preferences are irrelevant.This is about Sterling legacy, about our empire that employs thousands and influences global markets.”
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
“Enough with this dream life you picked up playing entrepreneur in Los Angeles. Real life doesn’t accommodate fairy tales, son. This family name transcends our personal desires and will outlive us both. A Sterling leads Sterling Industries—that’s always been your destiny.”
I swallow hard, tasting copper. “What if… there was another woman? Someone who—”
“You have a woman in mind who can match Amanda’s pedigree, social positioning, and readiness to produce offspring immediately? Because you’re behind on that requirement too, son.”
An image of Petra flashes through my mind—those rebellious eyes that never surrender, that mouth that tells the world exactly where it can go. She’s not just the opposite of Amanda. She’s the opposite of everything I was bred for.
And that’s the problem.
She’d laugh in my face if I asked her to play house and raise heirs. She’s made her stance on kids clear: not for her. Especially not with a man like me. And she’d never, not in a million years, wear the Sterling name as a collar.
But damn it… I wish she would.
“Quit wasting my time and get your ass to New York,” he snaps. “I don’t give a damn about your pet project. If I wanted to destroy it, I could. Don’t test me, or I will bury your little startup so deep, nobody willremember it existed.”
My blood turns to slush in my veins. When my father employs that razor-edged tone, it means the execution plan’s already drafted. He doesn’t bluff—he strategizes, then annihilates.
“That Brinkman boy keeps creating headaches for me,” he continues. “I should have put my foot down when you wanted to drag that charity case along for your Ivy League experience. Stop showing weakness. Be the man I raised you to be.”
My chest caves inward. There’s no escape route from this conversation, no clever maneuvering—only surrender. But I can salvage what Gavin and I built together. I can protect the sixty million people who trusted us with their financial futures, the families learning to invest for the first time.
Petra flickers in my mind, but it’s hopeless. She was never mine to have.
“I’ll do what you ask, on one condition. You delay announcing my CEO transition until Heartvest’s IPO completes successfully.”
“I’ll expect a wedding ceremony within thirty days and confirmation of your first pregnancy by Christmas,” he counters without hesitation. “No more delays. You secure what you want, and I collect what I’m owed.”
“Yes, Father. I understand. We’re in agreement.”
“Smart choice, son.”
The line goes dead.
My phone drops, hitting marble with a sickening crack. I collapse onto the bed’s edge, pressing both palms against my skull, hard enough to make it all disappear for half a second.
But it never does.
I push up. Start pacing. Five steps to the minibar. Back again. The air feels too thick, as though I’m walking through water and every breath is a fight.
I go to the drink cart. Grab the decanter of scotch. No ice. Just a hard pour and a harder swallow. It scalds all the way down, exactly the punishment I deserve.
One more pour. This time, I don’t drink it. Instead, I march to the balcony, the crystal tumbler clutched tightly in my hand. And I throw it.
CRASH!
