Page 135 of Merry Fake Bride

I care about the bakery and Martin, and her parents.

I care that she’s scared because a monster has tracked her down.

That’s what I care about.

Not this.

I stand and everyone shifts, watching me as if expecting some words of wisdom that will suddenly smooth this whole thing over.

I close the button on my suit jacket and lift my gaze to Martin who watches me with a pinched brow.

“I’m not going to fix this,” I say quietly. “Because I just don’t care. Call the lawyers. Call the police. Do whatever you see fit. But I’m done. I quit. The company was never mine to begin with. I was just a figurehead because Silver Canopy without a Sycamore at the head would have crumbled. I used to think I had to do this to keep my father’s memory alive, but you know what?”

I step away from the table. “This isn’t living. And Ryan, you’re not angry at me. You’re angry that the attention this has brought is going to unearth all the shit you’ve been pulling over the years. My resignation will be in your inbox shortly.”

The table erupts.

There are so many angry, distressed voices that I can’t decipher what anyone is saying.

It all washes over me as a bubble of regret rising in my gut.

I left Devon alone when she likely needed me.

Putting out this fire while my team hunts for Axel was a top priority, but being here made me realize I’m happy for it to fizzle out.

As I walk past Martin, he joins me in the hallway and hands me his phone.

“I did what you asked. Axel is fleeing a warrant in Colorado. Turns out he beat up his girlfriend so badly she lost the sight in her left eye. There are witnesses, so the warrant is air-tight.”

“Fuck.” My stomach flips at the pictures. “And now he’s here. What about the marriage? Are he and Devon legit?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Martin presses the button on the elevator, ignoring the fury behind him in the conference room. “But I already spoke to your lawyer. Given the circumstances, we can get it annulled.”

“This late?”

Martin smiles. “If you’re willing to pay for it, yes.”

“Kairo?” Mom’s voice drags me from my phone and I turn to her as she stops a few feet away.

“Mom.”

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” She clutches at her pearls. “What kind of son have I raised?”

I step into the elevator with Martin.

“You didn’t raise me. My nanny did. You looked the other way my entire life until I became useful.”

“No, I loved you. I cared for you. I did everythingforyou,” she gasps, stumbling forward. “Do you have any idea what this will do to me?”

My heart clenches as tears fill her eyes, but over the years I’ve learned they’re barely real.

“Do you remember that night after the Yankees game when Dad was so angry at his loss that he broke my wrist? Do you remember what you told me?”

Despite the tears rolling down her cheeks, she nods and straightens up. “I told you that Sycamores can weather anything. Reputation is everything.”

I scoff and press the button inside the elevator.

“No. You told me to suck it up. So I say the same to you. It’s time for both of us to find out who we really are without the Sycamore weight tying us down.”