SILAS

I didn’t let go. My fingers were locked around my father’s wrist, pinning his hand against the small of his back. I could feel the cold steel of the gun holstered beneath his jacket.

The old man was actually going to do it. He was going to pull a weapon on a girl in the middle of his own home just because she’d insulted his ego. It was a pathetic new low, even for him. He had spent his whole life building this empire, and here he was, ready to throw it all away because a twenty three year old had more backbone than he did.

"Five hundred million...