I flinch. “We were just kissing.”

He turns around so fast that I take a step back. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No, sir.”

“Clearly, you do!” He pounds his fists onto the desk, papers go flying, and then he shoves more off before sitting in his chair and holding his head in his hands. “Son, I created an empire, for you, for our family. The press is all over this situation with Mary-Belle. What’s going to happen when your friends say something? Or when you get caught like you just did? I know you’re not related, but it’s not right. You need to be focused on you, on our family, on sports, on taking over the dynasty one day—“

“—What if I don’t want that?” I press my palms onto his desk, onto all the other papers that make me feel sick to my stomach. “Whoever asked me if I wanted this perfect fucking legacy? You? Mom?”

He glares. “Don’t for one second think you’re untouchable because you’re rich!” His voice shouts louder, making me take a step back. “I did this for you, and you do nothing but mouth off, nothing but make mistake after mistake, nothing but do the exact opposite of what I ask!”

I smirk at him, angry that he’s making sense but also angry that he doesn’t see me or care about my feelings or wants. “Maybe you should have told me to screw her first, then I probably wouldn’t have.”

He comes barreling around the corner of his desk, hand flying across my right cheek before I can move.

I’m so pissed he slapped me that I don’t even know what to do or what to say. Eyes watering, I shake my head and press a hand to my cheek. “Really? That’s what it’s come to?”

Dad grabs the hand touching my cheek. Dark circles frame his blue eyes. What the hell has him so stressed out?

Everything’s always perfect.

So why isn’t he right now?

“Why do you even care?” I ask. “You’re never home. And we live a fucking lie. Everything is perfect and has to be, or you lose your shit. Who cares if I’m kissing the girl you took in all because you wanted people to look at you like some sort of savior!” I’m raising my voice and can’t help it. “Look, just leave me alone. I’ll be the perfect son, even when I’m home, but I’m not touching your legacy. Because you never really did it for us. You did it for yourself. Everything is for you, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of pretending. Do you even realize the only time you played catch with me was when the cameras stopped by for a photo op?”

Dad pales. “You never asked.

“I asked all the time!” I shout. “I begged you to give me five minutes, and you told me that your five minutes cost at least five grand, so I finally stopped asking!”