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“You don’t know what you’re saying. Don’t be ridiculous.” There’s a quiver to his voice, the restrained anger threatening to burst through.

I step around the chair to take a seat, a move that makes his eye twitch. Leaning forward with my elbows resting against my arms. “I know exactly what I’m saying. The only reason you called me here is because I’m not following whatever precious plan you had for me, where you could use me to help make you richer.”

The corners of his mouth pinch the same way they always did before he started screaming at me; but I’m not a kid anymore, so he can’t banish me to my bedroom. “You are wasting your money. You don’t take a paycheck fromthis place. If you put your face on the company more—”

“Nonprofit,” I correct. Nonprofit and charity were the equivalent of swear words in my house. My father could never fathom why someone would care about something that didn’t immediately benefit him. “I don’t need to take a paycheck; I’m doing just fine. I invested the money I made swimming correctly, so that’s more than enough to live off. I would rather pay my employees fairly for the amazing work they do, then make myself richer at their expense.”

The anger was manifesting itself in the splotchy redness creeping across his cheeks and up his bald head. “You’re a disappointment to this family, Ronan.”

I lean back in my chair with a casual shrug. “That’s not the first time you’ve said that to me, but here’s something I’ve never said to you: I’m embarrassed to be part of this family, so your disappointment can’t hurt me anymore.”

“You ungrateful little—”

“On that note”—I stand, ready to be done with this conversation—“there’s nothing else for me here. Thanks for the chat—hope it cleared some things up.”

I take a step toward the door. I hear things on my father’s desk jostle, then a hand is squeezing my arm so hard, I can almost feel a bruise forming. I look down at the hand, then up at my father, who is staring me down. Up this close, I can see the signs of his aging—the wrinkles around his eyes and jaw, the slight sagging of his skin, but I also realize I’m not looking him in the eye anymore. The man who always towered over me and made me feel small even when our heights were matched was now an inch—maybe even two—shorter than me.

“You will regret this. You won’t get a damn penny from me!”

I wrench my arm from his grip, watching as it causes him to stumble slightly. “I don’t want anything from you. Either of you.”

I’m at the door when he speaks again, voice shaking. “You’re no longer part of this family, Ronan. Do you hear me?”

The last shred of hope I’ve spent my whole life hanging onto snaps. “I can’t lose what I was never part of, right? You made that decision a long time ago, Declan. I hope life treats you better than you treat it.”

The door shakes when I slam it shut behind me. I can hear him screaming my name, followed by a loud crash. His secretary, a woman I’ve known most of my life because she’s never stood up to him, is staring at me with wide, stunned eyes. I stop at her desk, giving her a tight smile. “You might want to add me to the list of banned visitors, Gina.”

Her face relaxes, offering me a small smile. “Heading home, dear?”

I smile down at her in return. “I am. Have a good day.”

“Excuse me, Miss Sheridan?”

I spin around to face the woman who’d spoken my name in a polite but firm tone. I’m surprised to be staring at someone who looks like the poster child for swim moms everywhere with a tone that deserves to be commanding boardrooms. Her smile is warm, but professional.

“That’s me.” I smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “What can I help you with?”

“It’s nice to meet you! My name is Rachel Smith. My daughter Daisy swims on Coach Ronan’s team.” The girl in question instantly pops into my mind. She and Emmie have gotten close, clicking almost immediately. I’ve heard Ronan and Bryce, reminding them to focus on practice.

“Right.” I shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Daisy is a great kid and a wonderful swimmer.”

Rachel flushes in the way all doting parents do when someone compliments their kid. It’s the same prideful look Ronan gets when Lezak learns a new trick. “Thank you. I was wondering if I could speak with you about a job offer?”

Well, that’s certainly not what I was expecting to hear right as practice is about to start. I was about to retreat to the gym for a quick workout. “Oh, that’s very nice, but I’m in the process of building—”

“Your own freelance marketing business, I know. Bryce told me when I asked who does the marketing for Adair. I’m looking to hire an independent marketing professional for the business I run with my wife. Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”

I blink, but recover my surprise quickly. “Sure. We can go up to my office or go outside?”

Rachel agrees to stepping outside, since it’s not too hot. Before long, the two of us are sitting across from one another at a picnic table. Rachel slides a dark green folder across the table to me.

“My wife and I own a number of restaurants and bars in both Columbia and Charleston,” she begins. “Bryce told me you like to work with people who have causes. I’d like to chat about some of the things we believe in. First, we locally source as much product from South Carolina farmers as possible, but all our products are organic and ethically sourced, regardless. Secondly, and most importantly, my wife was formerly a social worker and has seen firsthand the difficulty children face when they age out of a system that doesn’t always work in their favor. Over seventy-five percent of our workforce is made up of kids who are about to age out or have aged out but don’t know where to go.”

I feel an itch under my skin, a dozen or more ideas already bubbling up in my head. “And you would want me to handle the marketing for the restaurants?”

She smiles. “Exactly. Our last marketing person didn’t seem to care about the vision we had or the difference we were making in these kids’ lives. We provide a sense of normalcy, teach them a positive work ethic, and help them learn what to expect from the outside world. I think you’d be perfect to take this over.”

“I would love the opportunity to present my portfolio and a list of references—”