Page 90 of Broken Brothers

The only difference would be the degree to which Edwin Hunt disliked me. Instead of seeing me as an object in the room to ignore, he would see me as a viral pestilence to his well-being and existence.

My only regret was that if Morgan agreed to the deal with his father, MCH would fall apart and I would be back to being on my own. But, well, that’s what I had always wanted, so I guess it wouldn’t have been that bad, huh?

“Dad,” Morgan said on the other line. His voice sounded surprisingly together. “All my life, you have raised me to be the heir to Hunt Industries. You have never bothered to ask me what I really wanted to do. You never gave me a choice. It’s no wonder that I started our partnership. When suffocated, people will do whatever they can to escape.”

I could hear the intensity of Edwin’s breathing increase.

“The funny thing is, I know I’m throwing away a ton of money and taking a huge risk by going on this path. But Chance has shown me something, Dad. He’s shown me that you can not just fail, but get publicly embarrassed and humiliated and thrown down by someone like you—yes, I know what you did with Craig Taylor—and still emerge strong. If that’s not strength of a man, I don’t know what is.”

“You’re out of your damn mind, boy,” Edwin snarled.

“Maybe I am, but I’d rather be out of my mind than out of any freedom,” Morgan said. “So no, I’m not going to take that offer.”

“And I’m sure as hell not either, Edwin,” I said.

“You both are goddamn fucking lunatics,” Edwin said. “Chance, go the fuck away and never let me see your adopted, worthless face ever again. Better yet, lose the goddamn last name. Morgan, you’re fired. Don’t you dare contact your mother, either.”

With that, the line died.

I don’t think Edwin could have said anything more insulting to me.

And yet, honestly, I could sincerely say I did not care. In fact, if anything, I felt profoundly grateful that we had all aired our dirty laundry.

I knew we had not had our last encounter with Edwin Hunt. Mr. Hunt would not just let this go by and fall to the side. He would find out what deals MCH was working for and insert himself in there. He would continue to harass us with goons and mobsters until we… I don’t know, groveled at his feet or something? He would continue to waste his energy trying to make our lives living hells.

But I had accomplished what I’d always set out to do, which was separate myself from Edwin Hunt.

I really didn’t give a shit if I went by Chance Hunt or Chance Givens, my birth name. Edwin could not legally compel me to change my name, though I’m sure if I didn’t I would get more calls from Darth Vader-sounding goons. But I did give a shit that I had my brother by my side, and just like my last name, I knew Edwin could not take that away.

Morgan would have his own fallout with Edwin to deal with. But for me? I had it just fine.

I was free, finally, from Edwin Hunt. I was free to make my life as Chance.

I was free.

37

By the time I landed back in New York City, I saw that shit had hit the fan hard for Morgan.

His father wasn’t kidding when he said he was fired. Morgan, by the grace of all that was good, had a savings account and an investment account of about $50 million that was given to him when he turned eighteen, meaning we didn’t have to suddenly come up with money we didn’t have for the investment in Virtual Realty.

But unlike me, who never considered Edwin Hunt a father, he had actually lost his father. He had lost his job. And he had probably lost his standing in the family.

Undoubtedly, Edwin had already told a few dozen people about what had transpired and insisted that no one ever do business with us. That would probably hurt Morgan, but as a free man, I could not have cared less.

I was Chance. Whether you wanted to call me Chance Hunt or Chance Givens didn’t make a difference; Chance did what he wanted to. He charmed women, he made good deals, and he did so with a level of honesty that would shock just about any old time New York businessman. Some might have gotten turned offby the bluntness of me, but there were at least two people who didn’t—one of whom I made a point of seeing that night.

No, not Layla. Layla… was someone that I still had to figure things out with. If Claire was true to her word about not wanting something serious, that allowed me to see other women. And while I didn’t want to say out loud that I was ready to go back to Layla, nor did I think it was a good idea at this time, learning about her uncle had softened my view of her a bit. She had her own family drama to deal with and was not some manipulative cunt. There was more to our story that had not yet been written, I knew.

But that could wait for later.

For now, it was time for some good old hot, steamy, victorious sex with Claire.

I didn’t even bother to stop by my apartment en route to Claire’s. She was more than willing to have me over, especially since I had none of the care and concern that I had had when I first came over. The animal had just gotten its largest kill to date, and it wanted to celebrate with his lioness.

Oh, yes, Chance Hunt was celebrating his conquered hunt tonight.

When I knocked on the door, Claire opened the door in a nightgown. She smiled at me. I came in, shut the door with my foot, and pressed her against the kitchen wall as we made out. Her nightgown came off with no effort. I tore off my clothes with nary a thought for if they got ripped or not. I could take care of that later. But this could not wait. I needed to be inside Claire now.