I had thrown my fists at someone before. He was my cousin, a trusted friend, and we both went to Harvard. I’d almost killed him. He was hospitalized for three days, and his parents loathed me. He had broken ribs and I fractured his fingers. My father always thought that I did it for fun. He even apologized to my uncle and gave them compensation. He used to think lowly of me. He didn’t even know what happened.
Jonas had been throwing rocks behind my back by dating Stacy. He knew I loved her. He knew she was going to be the woman I’d marry. But what did he do? He broke my trust. He ruined our friendship. The day I found out the child wasn’t mine was the day I wanted to kill a person.
But I didn’t, because it wasn’t worth it.
I’d changed. A lot. My father resented having a son like me. But I did not care. He wanted me to take over the company as his only son, but I built my own instead. I helped him. Sure, but it’s the way of showing him that I hated him for taking Jonas’ side and calling me useless. My chest felt as if it had been covered with stone.
I had never thought of opening my heart to anyone.