Sophie's POV
The conference room feels like a stage set for a confrontation I've been rehearsing my entire life.
Sterile walls. Polished wood table stretching between us like a battlefield. Fluorescent lights that wash everything in harsh, unforgiving clarity.
This is neutral territory—chosen specifically for its multiple exits, its proximity to security, its complete lack of anything my father could use as leverage or escape route.
Blaze and Asher wait in the hallway, close enough to intervene if needed. Eric stands just outside the door, his presence a steady anchor I can feel even through the walls.
I'm not alone. For the first time in my life, I'm facing my father with people who actually have my back.
He sits across from me, and the first thing I notice is how old he looks. The confident, silver-tongued man I remember from childhood has been replaced by someone worn down and desperate.
Whatever schemes have been consuming his life since he abandoned me months ago have taken their toll. His suit is rumpled, his hair grayer than I remember, his eyes darting nervously toward the exits like a cornered animal calculating escape routes.
Good. He should be nervous.
"Sophie." He spreads his hands on the table, palms up—a gesture meant to convey openness and honesty. I recognize it from a thousand previous manipulations. "I'm so glad you agreed to meet with me. We have so much to discuss."
"Then discuss." My voice comes out steadier than I expected. "I'm listening."
He launches immediately into his familiar playbook. "Everything I did was for family, sweetheart. For us. My business ventures were meant to benefit both of us—to build something we could share, a legacy that would provide for generations."
The words sound rehearsed, polished from years of convincing marks and creditors and anyone else foolish enough to believe him. I've heard variations of this speech my entire life. It used to work on me.
Not anymore.
"You don't understand the pressure I was under," he continues, leaning forward with practiced sincerity. "The opportunities I was chasing required bold moves. Yes, I made mistakes, but everything I did was motivated by love for my family. You have to believe that."
"No." The single word stops his momentum cold. "I don't have to believe anything you say."
His expression flickers—surprise, quickly masked. "Sophie, if you'd just listen…"
"I've been listening to you my entire life. I listened when you promised Mom that the next scheme would be different."
I meet his eyes without flinching, drawing on every ounce of strength I've built over months of cleaning up his disasters.
"I listened when you swore the creditors would be paid, the debts would disappear, our lives would finally stabilize. I listened when you told me you'd changed, that this time would be different, that family meant everything to you."
"It does! Family is everything!"
"Then why did you list me as an accomplice in your forged documents?"
The question cuts through his performance like a blade.
"Why did you put my name on partnership agreements and loan applications without my knowledge or consent? Why did you make me a target for criminals who wanted to collect on your debts?"
His mouth opens, closes, opens again. For a moment, I see the real man beneath the charm—scrambling, calculating, trying to find the angle that will get him out of this.
"That was... a misunderstanding. I never intended for you to be involved in the business side of things. If I used your name on a few documents, it was just for appearances…"
"I was attacked on the street."
My voice rises despite my efforts to stay calm.
"Two men grabbed me, tried to drug me, nearly beat me unconscious. They believed I had access to money you promised them. They were going to hurt me, maybe kill me because of deals you made and debts you couldn't pay."
"I didn't know that would happen."
"You didn't care." The truth of it settles into my bones like lead. "You never cared what happened to me as long as you could use me when convenient. I'm not your daughter to you. I'm just another resource to exploit."
His expression shifts, and I watch him recalculate his approach. The sincerity act isn't working, so he pivots to guilt.
"After everything I sacrificed for this family," he says, his voice taking on a wounded quality. "All the years I worked to provide for you and your mother. This is the thanks I get? Being accused and attacked when I was just trying to build something meaningful?"
"Don't." The word comes out sharp as a knife. "Don't you dare bring Mom into this."
"She would be so disappointed to see you turning your back on family."
"If you treated her anything like you've treated me, it's no wonder she left."
The words explode from somewhere deep inside me, carrying decades of suppressed pain.
"Real family doesn't manipulate. Real family doesn't disappear when consequences arrive. Real family doesn't sacrifice their children's safety for personal gain."
His face hardens, the mask of loving father finally cracking to reveal the selfish desperation beneath. "You ungrateful little…"
"I want nothing to do with you ever again."
My voice is steady now, calm with a certainty I've never felt before.
"No contact, no money, no future schemes where you drag me into your disasters. You're not my father anymore—you're just a stranger who happens to share my DNA."
The finality of the declaration hangs in the air between us. I watch him process it—the realization that his primary source of manipulation has permanently dried up, that the daughter he's exploited for years has finally grown teeth.
"You'll regret this," he says, but there's no conviction behind the threat. "When you need family, when you're alone and struggling…"
"I won't be alone. I have people who actually care about me now. People who show up when things get hard instead of disappearing." I stand, pushing back from the table. "We're done here."
I don't look back as I walk toward the door. Behind me, I hear him gathering his things—probably already calculating his next escape route, his next victim, his next scheme.
The police are waiting to question him about the forged documents, but I already know he'll find a way to slip through the cracks. Men like him always do.
It doesn't matter anymore. His future is his own problem now.
Eric is waiting just outside, his face flooding with relief when he sees me. "How did it go? Are you okay?"
"I'm..." I pause, taking inventory of my emotions. "I'm actually okay. Better than okay."
It's true. There's an unexpected lightness spreading through my chest, as if years of invisible chains have finally been broken.
The father who haunted my nightmares, who controlled my choices, who made me feel responsible for his failures—he has no power over me anymore.
I'm free.
Blaze and Asher join us in the hallway, both wearing expressions of cautious hope. "It's done," I tell them. "He knows I'm not his safety net anymore. Whatever happens to him next is his own doing."
Blaze pulls me into a fierce hug. "I'm proud of you," he murmurs. "That took incredible courage."
When he releases me, Eric immediately takes his place, holding me like I'm something precious. "Let's go home," he says softly. "You've done enough for one day."
As we walk out of the building together, I steal one last glance toward the conference room. My father is gone—slipped out some other exit, already running from consequences that will eventually catch up to him.
But that's not my problem anymore.
For the first time in my life, I'm choosing my own family. And they're walking right beside me.