Chapter 234

Chapter 234
Blake

Three years. Three whole fucking years since they'd locked him away, and somehow he still managed to look like he owned the world. I watched as my father emerged , his posture military-straight despite everything.

Those piercing blue eyes—the same ones I saw in the mirror every morning—scanned the surroundings with calculated precision before landing on me. My stomach clenched with a mixture of anger, resentment, and something else I couldn't quite name. Maybe it was just the twisted remains of what used to be respect.

I stepped out of the black sedan, my emotions a goddamn hurricane I couldn't begin to sort through. Part of me wanted to turn around and drive away. The other part—the part that won—needed answers.

Elias remained by the car, vigilant as always, his muscular frame tense as he surveyed our surroundings for potential threats.

"Blake, I hadn't expected to see you." James's voice was steady, but I caught the flicker of surprise in his eyes. Three years in prison had etched new lines into his face, silver threading more prominently through his hair, but it hadn't diminished his commanding presence one bit.

"What, you thought I'd send a driver for the great James?" I replied, crossing my arms. "Someone had to make sure you actually came out."

He studied me with those calculating eyes. "You look well. Leadership suits you."

"How was your stay at the government's expense?" I kept my tone neutral though my heart was pounding like I'd run a marathon. What the hell do you say to the father who went to prison for corporate espionage and God knows what else? Happy homecoming, Dad. Glad the treason charges were dropped?

A slight smile crossed his face. "I've certainly stayed in more comfortable accommodations. The thread count leaves much to be desired." He glanced around at the open sky. "Three years gives a man plenty of time to think. To plan."

"I bet it does," I muttered, nodding toward the car, swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat. "Let's go before the press figures out you're free."

The three of us settled into the sedan, Elias taking the wheel while my father and I sat in the back. The partition between front and back seats rose silently, giving us privacy. I watched as James stared out the window, taking in the landscape with an expression that seemed oddly relaxed, which pissed me off even more. How dare he look so fucking calm?

"Sofia and the children are well," I said, breaking the silence, my fingers tapping nervously against my thigh. "Lily's in school now. She's brilliant—math skills off the charts." I paused, thinking of my daughter's beaming face when she solved a problem. "Jasper's health has stabilized."

"And your marriage?" he asked, still gazing out the window. "I heard things were... difficult for a while."

My jaw tightened so hard I thought my teeth might crack. "How the fuck do you know about that? Who's feeding you information?"

He turned slowly, one eyebrow raised. "Prison walls are more permeable than you might think. Especially to information."

"Jesus Christ," I hissed, running a hand through my hair. "Even in prison, you couldn't just let us live our lives."

"You're my son, Blake. My only son."

"We've had our challenges," I replied, the words tasting like acid. "It's better now. Sofia and I have worked through a lot."

He nodded, something like approval flickering across his face. "She's a remarkable woman. Far stronger than Juliana ever gave her credit for."

The mention of my mother sent a fresh wave of anger through me. "Don't start with that. I'm not interested in playing whatever game you two are still running."

"What are your plans?" I asked, unable to hide the edge in my voice. "And don't give me the sanitized version you've been feeding your parole officer."

"First, I need to get settled. Start over." His voice was calm, practiced—the voice of a man who'd rehearsed this conversation.

"And what are your real plans?" I couldn't keep the anger from boiling over. "Cut the bullshit, Dad. This is me you're talking to. The son who had to clean up your mess while you were playing chess with the prosecutors."

James studied me for a long moment, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. "You've grown more perceptive in my absence. Harder. But that's necessary in our world."

"I've had to be," I snapped, blood rushing to my face. "While you were gone, Mother was trying to dismantle everything you built. And take Sofia down in the process."

A silence stretched between us, filled with unspoken history and resentment, thick enough to choke on.

"I wouldn't dream of involving you in my personal vendetta, Blake." He adjusted his cuffs—a habit I recognized from board meetings long ago. "You have your family to consider. Some paths a man must walk alone."

"Mother has resumed control of Sterling Group," I said, watching his reaction carefully, a sick knot forming in my gut. "She's restructured the board. She... doesn't talk about you much. Except to say you betrayed everything the family built."

A bitter smile crossed his face. "I imagine she'll never forgive me for exposing the family's secrets. Juliana has always confused loyalty with blind obedience." He turned his gaze back to me. "A distinction I hope you've learned to make."

The car glided through traffic in silence for several minutes before I spoke again, my hands clenched into fists.

"When does it end?" I asked, unable to contain my frustration. "This quest for revenge—what the hell will it accomplish? What's the endgame here? More lives ruined? More scandals? Haven't we all been through enough?"

James's expression hardened, his eyes suddenly cold. "When he pays for betraying our family and hurting so many people. When the truth comes out. Gideon has walked free while I sat in a cell for three years. That balance must be corrected."

I shook my head, feeling suddenly exhausted and disgusted. "Some truths may never come to light. And do you really think exposing more secrets will make anyone feel better? Jesus Christ. Move on. Let it go."

He looked at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. "Some secrets need to be exposed, son."

My heart rate picked up, pounding in my ears. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"In due time," he said, turning back to the window. "For now, I'd like to enjoy my first day of freedom. Perhaps have a real drink. Prison whiskey leaves much to be desired."

I wanted to grab him by his perfectly pressed shirt and demand answers, but something in his expression told me he wouldn't elaborate. Whatever he knew—or thought he knew—about Sofia and me would remain hidden for now, and it made my blood boil.

I wondered what my father saw when he looked at it—opportunity? Revenge? A kingdom to reclaim? His face revealed nothing but a man calmly surveying what he considered rightfully his.

As we drove in silence, I couldn't shake the feeling that his release marked the beginning of something, not an end. Three years might have given him time to think, but it clearly hadn't diminished his resolve. Whatever game he was playing, I was determined to keep Sofia and our children out of it. We'd fought too damn hard for our happiness to let family ghosts destroy it now.

What the hell did he know that I didn't?