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Chapter Three: The Heir's Short-Circuit

Author: Ruthie B
last update publish date: 2026-05-22 22:59:42

Finn’s POV

I grabbed her arm without warning, but the sheer coldness in her eyes made me drop my grip before I could even find my words.

"Are you happy now? What if this little stunt you're pulling ruins my reputation before the corporate audit?!" I blew up at her, my voice echoing down the empty hallway of our apartment.

Instead of crumbling into a tearful apology as she normally would, she simply adjusted the strap of her designer purse, looking at me like I was an irritating stain on her shoe.

"Ten billion," she said to me hauntingly, her voice completely devoid of emotion. "That’s how much of your father's asset portfolio I personally restructured for you last quarter. Don't expect me to leave without my consulting fees, Finn."

My chest seized. "Ten billion? Consulting fees?" I repeated back at her, making sure my ears weren't short-circuiting.

"I didn't mince my words, Finn," she replied, her red lips curving into a mocking smile. "I gave up a promising career and the best years of my youth to make you look competent in front of Knox Hartley. Don't you think a heavy settlement is the least I deserve?"

"My father?" I could barely process what she was throwing at me.

Where was my sweet, compliant Sloane? The one who would stay up until three in the morning to organize my calendar or fix me a meal without a single complaint?

Only a week ago, she was quietly enduring my late nights. Now she was talking about walking away and gutting my financial stability.

As the future heir to the Hartley fortune, I could handle pressure, but my father was arriving at the estate tomorrow. If Sloane wasn't there to ensure everything ran flawlessly, I was dead meat.

Before I could demand that she stop this nonsense, my phone vibrated in my palm. It was my past flame, texting me from the restaurant.

(Finn, babe, where are you? The appetizers are already here and I'm getting bored.)

I looked from the screen back to Sloane, hesitant for a split second. She just rolled her eyes at my dilemma.

"Go to her, Finn. Both of you deserve each other."

A muscle ticked violently in my jaw. "This conversation isn't over."

I didn't wait for her retort. I hurried out of the apartment to meet my dinner reservation, fully expecting that by the time I came back, Sloane would have cooled her head and returned to her senses.

But dinner was a complete disaster.

Without Sloane there to subtly remind me of my dietary restrictions, I accidentally ordered a dish that triggered my allergies. My date didn't even notice; she spent the entire night taking selfies and complaining about the lighting in the restaurant.

When I finally returned to the apartment close to midnight, the suffocating silence hit me instantly.

I checked the master bedroom. It was empty.

I checked the closet. Half of her elegant wardrobe was entirely gone.

"Sloane?" I called out, my voice sounding desperate even to my own ears.

No response.

My phone buzzed. It was a notification from the security system at the Hartley family's private estate—the one I had told her to go to so she could cry in a corner.

Visitor Logged: 10:14 PM.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips. I ruffled my hair, a smug smile returning to my face.

Of course. She had gone to the estate just like I told her to. She was probably sitting in the guest wing right now, staring at her phone, waiting for me to call and give her a crumb of attention.

I dialed her number, expecting her to pick up on the first ring like a loyal lapdog.

“The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…”

I grated my teeth together, slamming the phone down onto the counter. Fine. Let her play her little games. Tomorrow morning, when my father arrives for the audit, she’ll have no choice but to stand by my side and act like the perfect partner.

What I didn't know—what my arrogant mind couldn't possibly comprehend—was that Sloane wasn't sitting in a dark corner weeping over me.

At that exact moment, fifty miles away at the estate, she was standing in the grand study.

And she wasn't waiting for my call.

She was raising a glass of vintage bourbon with the one man who could strip me of my inheritance with a single stroke of a pen.

My father.

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