Chapter 50
Hayes's POV
Legal records. Fund approvals. Private investigation reports.
I started scrolling, my finger sliding across the screen.
File 001: Background Investigation Report
Date: May 2020
Subject: Sienna Thorne
Contents: Family background (parents divorced, grandmother's custody), academic performance (full scholarship, top 5% of class), financial situation (financial aid, weekend part-time work)...
My throat tightened. They'd investigated everything about her. Every detail recorded like they were assessing the value of a commodity.
I kept scrolling.
Each document was a knife stabbing at my heart.
Academic recommendations cancelled. Financial aid applications rejected.
And at the bottom of all these files, there was an unofficially archived draft.
Non-Disclosure Agreement.
I opened it and read word by word.
The agreement was simple: Sienna Thorne agreed never to publicly disclose her relationship with Hayes Sterling, never to reveal the reason for their breakup to anyone, and in exchange, the Sterling family would not interfere with her future career development.
But what truly stopped my breath was the final additional clause:
"If any clause of this agreement is violated, Party A (Sterling Family) reserves the right to terminate Party B's (Sienna Thorne) development in any related industry and has the right to file suit against her."
I stared at the screen, my hands trembling.
She couldn't tell.
For six years, it wasn't that she didn't want to tell. She couldn't.
Because if she did, my father would completely destroy her.
But this didn't seem to be everything. If it was just this threat, I believed Sienna would choose to fight back.
There had to be something else that wasn't recorded.
As I considered all the possibilities, time passed quickly.
The roar of an engine pulled me back to reality. I knew my father had returned.
Through the study window, I watched a sleek black sedan glide to a stop in front of the fountain. The driver's door opened, and my father—Malcolm Sterling—emerged, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced precision.
He looked exactly as I remembered—impeccably dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit, silver hair combed back without a strand out of place, expression carved from ice. The kind of man who'd built an empire on calculated decisions and zero tolerance for weakness.
I stayed where I was, watching him hand his briefcase to the butler. He glanced up at the window, and our eyes met across the distance.
He didn't look surprised.
That realization sent a cold spike through my chest. He'd known I would come. Known this confrontation was inevitable.
He said something to the butler, then turned toward the main entrance. His footsteps would reach the study in less than two minutes.
The door opened.
The soft click of Malcolm closing the door somehow felt louder than a slam. He moved to the bar cart in the corner, pouring himself two fingers of scotch with the same unhurried control he brought to every boardroom negotiation.
"You've been avoiding family dinners," he said, swirling the amber liquid. His tone was conversational, almost pleasant. "Your mother was disappointed about the holidays you missed."
I didn't move from my position by the window. "Cut the small talk."
"Direct as always." He took a slow sip, then set the glass down on the mahogany desk between us. "Very well. What brings you to Platinum Cliffs, Hayes? I assume it's not a social call."
I pulled out my phone and dropped it on the desk. The screen still displayed the NDA, Sienna's name stark against the legal jargon.
"You want to explain this?"
Malcolm's expression didn't change. He picked up the phone, glanced at the document, then set it back down with the same careful precision he used for everything.
"She told you everything?" He walked around the desk, settling into the leather chair like a king claiming his throne.
The admission hit me like a fist to the gut. No denial. No pretense. Just cold, matter-of-fact confirmation.
"She still won't tell me why she left." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "Six years. You never thought to tell me you threatened her? That you forced her to leave?"
"Threatened?" Malcolm's eyebrow lifted slightly. "I presented her with a choice. That's not a threat, Hayes. That's business."
"Business." I repeated the word like it tasted of poison. "She was eighteen years old. A college student. And you—" I had to stop, force myself to breathe through the rage building in my chest. "What exactly did you tell her? What did you threaten her with to make her sign that agreement?"
Malcolm regarded me for a long moment, his gray eyes—so similar to mine, yet so utterly different—assessing, calculating.
"I told her the truth," he said finally. "That the NFL doesn't tolerate controversy. That scouts look for character as much as talent. That one word from the right people could raise questions about your academic integrity, your behavior, your fitness to be drafted." He leaned back in his chair. "I simply explained how fragile a young athlete's future really is." He paused, then continued.
The words landed like body blows.
Academic integrity. Behavior concerns. Draft eligibility.
He could have destroyed everything with a few phone calls. Could have planted doubts, manufactured scandals, poisoned the well before I ever set foot on a professional field. Could have brought me back under their control.
But he'd used it to tear Sienna and me apart.
"You son of a bitch." The words came out quiet, deadly.
Malcolm's expression hardened. "Watch your tone. I'm still your father."
"Are you?" I stepped closer to the desk, my hands braced against the polished surface. "Because a father wouldn't weaponize his son's dreams to control him. A father wouldn't threaten the person his son loved just to maintain some twisted sense of dynasty."
"Love." Malcolm's lip curled with something close to contempt. "You were twenty years old, Hayes. Infatuated with a girl who had nothing—no family connections, no social standing, no future that would benefit this family. I was protecting you from making a mistake that would have cost you everything."
"She wasn't a mistake."