Page 2

JD

I crept through the side door of the estate, boots in hand, trying not to wake the entire damn house.

The sun was barely breaking the horizon, soft orange streaks painting the sky.

I’d just come back from the bunkhouse—where Skye had fallen asleep in my arms, curled up safe and warm after our night under the stars.

She was safer in the spare bunkhouse than with her mother where strange men revolve in and out.

I didn’t regret a damn thing.

But the second I stepped into the hallway, my father’s voice cracked through the silence like a whip.

“You think we don’t notice when you sneak in at dawn?”

I stiffened, shoes dangling in my grip. My mother stepped in beside my father, arms crossed, lips pursed in a way that told me this wasn’t the first time they’d been waiting.

“Where were you?” my father barked.

“I was with Skye,” I said plainly, dropping the pretense.

My mother’s face twisted in disgust. “That girl? Again? Haven’t you learned your lesson after the incident last month?” He roared. “That good for nothing gold digger is going to nothing but drag you down—and us along with you.”

“She has a name,” I snapped. “And I love her. I gave her my Northport ring as a placeholder until you give me Gram’s.”

My father stepped forward. “That girl is trailer trash, JD. You’re a Northport. You come from bloodlines, from status. That kind of girl doesn’t belong in our world or wearing our family’s crest on her finger.”

My jaw clenched. “You mean someone who works hard and doesn’t care about your damn cocktail parties?”

“She’s beneath you!” my mother hissed. “She’s a phase. A mistake.”

“No, you’re the one making a mistake,” I shot back, voice rising, “for thinking I’d ever want your cold, empty life. You parade me around like some heir to your legacy, but I don’t give a damn about it. I want a life that’s real. And Skye is real.”

My father’s face turned red. “You’re eighteen. You don’t know what love is. What you know is lust. And if you don’t wise up, I’ll take the truck. The Ducati. Your Amex. Everything.”

My fists curled at his sides.

“Go ahead,” I spat. “Strip it all away. I’ll still choose her.”

My mother gasped like he’d slapped her.

“You’d throw away everything we’ve given you for a girl in a thrift store sundress?”

I met her eyes, steady and burning. “I’d give it all up a hundred times over for one more night with her.”

My father turned his back, dismissing him with a wave of his hand .

“You’re grounded. No more keys. No more cards. You want to act like trash, you can live like it.”

I didn’t flinch.

“Fine,”I said. “I’ll find my own way.”

And as I walked up the stairs, two at a time, I realized I meant it. Every single word.

Let them keep their empire.

I had love. Real and true.

And that was worth more than all their gold.