He walked toward me.
“You were choosing a man you hoped would become worthy of your love.”
That sentence broke something in me.
I looked away.
“I gave him everything.”
“I know.”
“I gave him the money.”
“I know.”
“The patents.”
“I know.”
“My connections. My reputation. My family.”
“I know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“And he still thinks I’m nothing.”
My father placed his glass down.
“That is because you made one mistake.”
“What?”
“You hid your power so well that he eventually believed you had none.”
I stared at him.
Then he opened a drawer in his desk.
Inside was a thick black folder.
He pushed it toward me.
My name was printed on the cover.
Not Alyssa Prescott.
Just:
ALYSSA VALE — CONTROLLING INTERESTS
My breathing slowed.
I opened it.
