Finnegan
I should have felt something. Anything at all. Maybe a bit of anticipation, or even mild dread, but all I felt was the same hollow feeling I'd always had for years.
My birthdays had never been about me. They were either about Devin, and when he supposedly died, they were always a business decision.
Mother hosted a gala every year, lavish galas where I was trotted out like some prize stallion. Another year of Wolfe Corp's stock rising. Another year of Finnegan being the perfect heir.
The only times my birthdays had felt like mine were the times I spent with Angel, River, and my friends but this year felt different.
I glanced through the glass wall of my office. I'd had the curtains removed Monday, at the start of the week when Abigail and I got back to work.
Technically it was to let in more natural light, but really it was just so I could see her. Abigail was half-perched on her desk, phone pressed to her ear, gesturing animatedly with her free hand.
