Sweet Hatred Chapter 17: Liability

The next hour was filled with figures, projected revenues, and risk assessnts. I responded when needed, my voice crisp and firm, but my patience was thinning fast.

Because through all of it, my mind refused to cooperate.

Aria's defiant eyes. The way she spoke to like she wasn't the least bit afraid. The way her body reacted—no matter how much she tried to deny it.

I shifted in my chair, jaw tightening as I forced my attention back to the conversation.

"Mr. Roman?"

I flicked my gaze toward the man who spoke, a middle-aged executive with graying hair and an ill-fitted suit. "Yes?"

He cleared his throat, clearly nervous. "We'd also like to finalize the details on the partnership proposal. The Japanese firm needs confirmation before the end of the week."

"Then send it," I said evenly. "I already approved it."

The eting dragged on, but I kept my composure. When it finally concluded, the board mbers filed out, and I leaned back in my chair, exhaling through my nose.

The mont of reprieve was short-lived. I barely walked three steps outside the conference room when my phone buzzed. My father. I answered the call swiftly.

"I assu this isn't a social call," I said, voice devoid of emotion.

"Co visit your old man," my father's voice ca through, deep and impassive. "Today."

And just like that, the tight grip I had on my restraint only got harder to hold onto.

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The living room was just as I rembered—pristine, expensive, and utterly devoid of warmth. My father sat on a couch across the TV, his expression unreadable as I stepped inside. He held a a whiskey glass in hand, the picture of calculated control. His silver hair was combed back, his presence still carrying the sa weight it always did.

"Kael," he said smoothly. "Sit."

I didn't. "What do you want?"

His lips pressed into a thin line before he leaned back in his chair. "I want to talk about the company. About your position."

I remained silent, waiting.

"You've been performing well," he admitted, though his voice was void of any real praise. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, eyeing with the sa sharp gaze I'd grown up under. "I heard about Victor Voss. You backing him into a corner."

That little bitch.

I tucked my hands into my pockets. "He's beco a liability. He should've been more careful."

A slow, approving nod. "True. He has always been sloppy." Then, a pause. "But you aren't just cutting him loose—you're obliterating him. Freezing his offshore accounts, exposing his tax inconsistencies, and making sure no one in the industry will touch him again."

I didn't respond. What was there to say? The man was weak. He made mistakes. I simply ensured those mistakes had consequences. A rule drilled into my mind.

My father exhaled, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. "Kael, I don't disagree with your thods. I know what son I chose after all. You did what needed to be done. But at so point, you'll need to learn the difference between eliminating threats and burning every bridge in sight."

I stared at him. "You think I should've handled him gently?"

"I think you should've left him just enough rope to stay dependent on you," he said simply. "Completely cutting a man off makes him desperate. Desperate n make reckless enemies."

A slow simr of irritation built in my chest, but I tamped it down. "I'm not interested in keeping parasites around."

He chuckled lightly and studied for a beat, then exhaled. "You remind of myself."

I hated when he said that.

A sharp laugh escaped —humorless, cold. "Then that should concern you."

Sothing unreadable flickered in his gaze. A tension so subtle that if I weren't watching closely, I would've missed it. But I was always watching.

He didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he leaned back, expression unreadable. "It doesn't. It only tells what I already know."

I clenched my jaw. That was enough. I had no interest in sitting through another veiled lecture on how I was his mirror image.

I straightened. "If that's all, I have work to do."

He let go without another word, because we both knew—this conversation was over.

And just like always, I left feeling like I had sothing to prove.