Chapter 4
Blake Gibson POV:
Dalton froze, his hand suspended in mid-air. His eyes, still blazing with fury, flickered towards the voice.
My gaze followed his. Standing at the edge of the mourners, a figure emerged from the shadows of the old oak trees. Tall, imposing, with silver hair and eyes that could strip you bare. Garrison Perry. My father.
Dalton's face drained of color. He knew that voice. Everyone in the Silicon Valley knew that voice. The legendary Wall Street tycoon.
"Father," I whispered, relief and a fresh wave of grief washing over me. He was here. He always appeared when things were at their absolute worst.
Garrison ignored everyone but me. His eyes, usually so cold, held a flicker of something resembling pain as they landed on my tear-streaked face.
"Blake. Are you alright?" His voice was low, cutting through the stunned silence.
"No, Father," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm not."
His gaze sharpened, moving from me to Dalton, then to a sniveling Justine who was now hiding behind Dalton's back. The anger in his eyes was palpable.
"Dalton," Garrison said, his voice like ice. "I believe you owe my daughter an explanation. And perhaps, an apology."
Dalton puffed out his chest, trying to regain some semblance of authority, but his confidence had evaporated. "Mr. Perry, this is a private family matter. Blake is... overwrought."
"Overwrought?" Garrison scoffed. "Your mistress just desecrated her mother's funeral, and you' re protecting her. Tell me, Dalton, is this how you typically conduct your 'family matters'?"
Justine whimpered, tightening her grip on Dalton's arm. "He's just... he's just upset, Mr. Perry."
"Upset?" Garrison's eyes bore into Dalton. "You just tried to lay your hands on my daughter. For her." He gestured dismissively at Justine.
Dalton's face was a mottled red. "She attacked Justine! She' s pregnant with my child!"
"Your child?" Garrison's eyebrow arched, a dangerous glint in his eye. "How very inconvenient for you, Dalton. And for Blake."
He looked at me again, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "Blake, my dear. You don't have to endure this circus any longer."
He then turned back to Dalton, his voice hardening. "You remember that quaint little startup, Elysian Dynamics? The one you so proudly co-founded?"
Dalton's eyes narrowed. "What about it?"
"Oh, nothing much," Garrison said, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "Just that I happen to be its largest, silent investor. And I've just decided to pull all my capital. Effective immediately."
The words hit Dalton like a physical blow. His jaw dropped. "What? No! You can't!"
"Oh, but I can," Garrison said, his voice smooth and deadly. "And I have. Consider it a late wedding present for my daughter. Or perhaps, a severance package for your disgraceful conduct."
Dalton stumbled backward, his face ashen. "This is a bluff! You wouldn't crash your own investment!"
"My investment was in Blake's genius, not your ego, Dalton," Garrison corrected him. "And frankly, the return on investment for seeing you squirm, is far greater than any financial gain."
He gestured to a group of men who had quietly materialized behind him. They weren't bodyguards. They were lawyers and financial advisors.
"Furthermore," Garrison continued, "I've just instructed my legal team to initiate a full investigation into Elysian Dynamics' books. I have a hunch we'll find some... irregularities. Especially concerning the misappropriation of funds for personal expenses." His eyes flickered to Justine's expensive handbag.
Justine gasped, her hand instinctively going to her belly.
Dalton was trembling now, his bravado completely gone. "You can't do this! I'll fight you! Blake, tell him! Tell your father he can't do this!"
I stepped forward, my gaze meeting Dalton's. There was no pain left, only a cold, burning resolve. "He can, Dalton. And he will. Because this is what you deserve. This is the beginning of your end."
Justine, seeing Dalton's empire crumble, started to panic. "Dalton! What about us? What about the baby?"
Dalton looked at her, then back at me, a desperate plea in his eyes. "Blake, please! Don't do this! For old times' sake! For everything we built!"
"Everything I built, Dalton," I corrected him, my voice devoid of emotion. "And I'm taking it all back. Every single piece of it."
Garrison stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Come, Blake. Let's go home."
My eyes, dry now, met Dalton's terrified gaze. "This isn't just about the company, Dalton. This is about my mother. This is about every lie, every betrayal, every humiliation. This is about justice."
I turned, leaving him standing there, shattered, with his pregnant mistress whimpering at his side, his world crashing down around him. The funeral, the pain, had finally given way to a terrifying clarity. The game had changed. And I was finally ready to play.
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