Page 31 of Ex- Factor
I blinked hard, staring at the man behind the oversized mahogany desk. "This couldn't be real life," I muttered under my breath. It had been three months of quiet since the camping trip. I knew something would happen that we wouldn’t like.
The office smelled like leather and power, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown. Of course Silas’s father would have the kind of office that screamed, I think I’m God.
He sat like a judge, hands folded, waiting to sentence me.
“Thank you for coming, Eshe,” he said smoothly. Too smooth. His voice had the kind of practiced weight that made people listen whether they wanted to or not. “I know this is… unconventional.”
“No problem,” I said flatly. “But I don’t understand why I’m here. Silas doesn’t even speak to you.”
A faint, cold smile touched his lips. “Which is precisely why you’re here. He’s making emotional, short-sighted decisions. Cutting off his legacy, his potential, over… sentiment.” He said the word like it was a disease.
“He’s a Rutherford. That name carries weight. It opens doors he doesn’t even know exist yet. It comes with expectations.”
He leaned forward, sliding an envelope across the desk like we were in a mob flick. My eyes cut down, then back up at him. I didn’t touch it.
“One hundred thousand dollars,” he said. “Tax-free. For you. Today. All you have to do is make a clean exit. No drama. No messy goodbyes.”
I paused, my brain connecting his words. I barked a laugh. Couldn't help it. “This is a line straight out of Days of Our Lives. ”
His eyes narrowed, the politician’s charm fading.
“This is reality, Ms. Eshe. Let’s not be naive.
What do you offer him? A few months of passion?
My son isn’t built for that. He’s built to lead.
He needs a partner who understands the world he was born into.
Someone who can navigate a charity gala.
Someone with a family name that complements his own.
You’ll only ever be a distraction. A story he tells later about the girl he almost derailed his life for. ”
I crossed my legs, leaned back, and folded my arms. “Instead of trying to buy his life, why not just… I don’t know, be a dad? Leave him alone like he wants? That’s what fucked-up parents who actually want redemption do.”
He didn’t flinch. “I don’t want redemption. I want my son to fulfill his destiny. This isn’t about love—it’s about legacy. It’s about ensuring the empire I built doesn’t end with a boy playing house with a girl who sees him as a rebellion.”
It sounded so cold. My heart sped up. He didn’t even pretend he loved Silas. He wanted an heir. A puppet, not a child.
I tilted my head, fighting a smile. “You hear yourself? That’s sick. And sad.”
His jaw flexed. The mask slipped completely. “You think this is a game? I’ve spent my life building something. I will not let a child’s infatuation tear it down. I can make your life very, very difficult.”
That did it. I laughed so hard the secretary outside probably heard me.
“Sir, please. I’ve survived worse on purpose than an old rich white man threatening me. You're easier than my ex to handle.”
His nostrils flared. “Watch your mouth.”
“No—you watch yours.” I leaned in, elbows on his precious desk, invading his space.
“See, you think money means control. You can’t scare me.
You threaten me again, I’ll fuck your whole world up in five to seven business days.
TikTok, Instagram, Twitter—I’ll go live, cute as hell, crying, and I’ll say my boyfriend’s white multi-millionaire daddy tried to pay me off to leave his son. I’ll insinuate it’s because I’m Black.”
I laughed again.
“You think your Black clients will like that headline? Think NBA stars and WNBA players wanna sign contracts with your company? I did my research. I know what you are, deep down. You’re scared.”
His face turned blotchy—mottled red and white. “You have no idea what you’re playing with—”
“No. You be careful. Because I’m not some desperate woman gonna take your hush money. I love your son. He loves me. And unlike you, I actually give a damn about what he wants.”
The silence stretched thick between us. He sat there, stone-faced, but I could feel the rage vibrating off him. He wasn’t used to being told no.
Finally, I stood. Smoothed my skirt.
“This meeting’s over. Silas is your son. I can’t speak for him, but for me? Leave me the fuck alone.”
I walked out before he could say another word. Boy, I was hot.
Angel was waiting for me outside, leaning against the car, sipping a smoothie. She’d insisted on coming for back-up. Waited outside—said if I didn’t come back in ten minutes, she was storming in.
“Well? What the old pervert want?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
I blew out a breath, then laughed. “Girl, he really tried to bribe me like I’m some side chick off a reality show. Slid a whole envelope across the desk like we in The Godfather. Gave me the whole ‘you’re-not-good-enough-for-my-legacy’ speech.”
Angel cackled, shaking her head. “You should’ve taken the money.”
I paused. “What you mean?”
She shook her head. “Tell him yes and don’t do it. I bet you when you tell Silas what happened, that’s what he say.”
“Oh shit,” I groaned.
“What?” Angel asked, voice high-pitched.
“Silas is just getting back to normal since his parents popped up.”
My stomach turned. Because I knew him—he’d either explode or shut down, no in-between. And either way, his father would’ve gotten exactly what he wanted: chaos. And Silas didn’t need more chaos. Not now. Not ever.
“Now I gotta tell him this shit.”
Angel nodded slowly. “I see what you’re saying.”