Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I stormed toward the front door.
Of course, he was there standing right at the entrance like he'd been waiting for this moment.
"So you're really leaving, huh?" he said, almost amused.
"Damn right," I said, meeting his eyes dead-on. "I'm finally getting the hell out of your shitty house."
"Rey, you really outdid yourself this time too," I added, throwing his old words right back in his face.
He chuckled.
"Using my own words against me. Classic," he sneered.
Then his expression darkened
He wasn't going to break me.
Then his expression darkened.
"I'm giving you forty-eight hours," he said. "You'll come crawling back.. No money,no cushy lifestyle. You can't survive without my money, without the life I gave you."
My jaw tightened.
"I've already cut off all your credit cards. Let's see how long you last out there."
His voice was full of smug satisfaction, like he couldn't wait to watch me fail.
I glared at him, dead in the eyes.
"You'll never see that day," I said coldly. "I swear on my life."
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Lena—the parasite smirking from the stairs.
I turned fully to face her.
"This is what you wanted, right?" I said.
"More room to suck him dry? Congratulations, gold-digger. You won gold digging your way into his will."
I saw the fury flash across my father's face the moment the words left my mouth.
"How dare you, Vincent!" he barked.
"You're just as pathetic as your late mother."
That was it.
I didn't flinch.
I didn't even blink.
I just slung the bag higher onto my shoulder and walked straight out of their disgusting housewithout looking back.
I drove for about an hour, not thinking, not caring. I just needed to be somewhere that didn't reek of that house.
I ended up crashing at some random fancy hotel across town.
Not one of my father's hotels, obviously — he practically owned hotels half the damn country.
I wanted nothing connected to him. Nothing at all.I didn't need his shadow following me everywhere I went.
The room was decent. Big enough. Cold enough.
I tossed my bag on the floor, ordered three bottles of whiskey, and downed the first one before I even bothered taking off my jacket.
For the next three days, I locked myself up in that stupid hotel room.
Drinking, ordering room service like my life depended on it, ignoring the outside world like it didn't exist.
Vodka bottles piled up on the floor.
Plates of half-eaten food cluttered the table.
I barely moved except to drink more or curse at the ceiling.
My phone buzzed nonstop.
At some point, I was too drunk to care.
It wasn't until I cracked my eyes open on the third day, with my head pounding like a jackhammer, that I finally picked it up
Thirty missed calls.
Most from Valerie.
Some from Cassie.
A few from Ken.
I stared at the screen, my vision still blurry.
Valerie's name blinked at me again with another incoming call.
Sighing, I answered.
"Vincent?! Oh my God, Vincent!" Valerie's voice practically exploded through the phone. "I've been trying to reach you for three days!"
I groaned, sitting up on the bed, rubbing my eyes.
"Yeah. I know. I'm alive, don't freak out."
"Dad told me you left," she said. "He said you stormed out because he told you to marry Bianca. Is that true?"
I laughed dryly.
"Yeah. Because I'm not his puppet, Val. And you know it."
There was a pause on the other end. I could almost picture her sitting straight, clutching her phone, still trying to see the good in him, still desperate to fix everything like always.
"Vincent..." she said, softer this time. "You're my baby brother. You know how much I love you. But you know, maybe Dad just wants what's best for you."
I scoffed, pushing myself off the bed, pacing the room.
Typical Valerie. Always seeing him as this flawless savior, this perfect father who just happened to "want the best for us."
She didn't see the man he really was.
The control. The manipulation.
The way he dangled love and approval like a goddamn prize you had to earn.
I gritted my teeth.
"Yeah, sure. He wants the best," I said sarcastically. "Maybe next he'll arrange who I should breathe around too."
"Vincent, don't be like this—" she started.
"Look," I cut her off, running a hand through my hair. "I need a favor. He already cut me off. Credit cards, everything."
There was a pause.
"Can you send me some cash? Just enough to get by for now," I asked.
She sighed heavily.
"I'll send it," she said. "But Vincent... you should come back. Apologize. Make peace with Dad. That's the best thing for you. Trust me."
Before I could argue, she hung up.
I stared at the screen for a second, feeling this heavy weight in my chest.
I tossed the phone back on the bed.
Apologize?
Make peace?
Not happening.
I was done living like a caged pet, waiting for scraps of freedom he'd hand out when he felt like it.
No. This time, I needed to figure it out myself.
Maybe get a job.
Damn, even thinking about that sounded insane.
I had no skills.
None.
Maids, assistants,people had always been there to do everything for me since I could crawl.
Now?
I was standing on my own for the first time ever.
No money.
No car, except the one I just bought with my last cash.
No plan.
I leaned against the wall, letting the reality hit me.
What the hell kind of job could I even do?
Who the hell would hire Vincent Aston?
I chuckled bitterly to myself.
This was gonna be one hell of a crash.