Seth

"You've always been reckless, Seth. But this? This is career suicide," his investor said, twirling a pen between his fingers, frustration etched into his voice.

The office lighting was unbearably bright-ceiling lamps that emitted a harsh glare, giving Seth an instant headache. He couldn't fathom how anyone could enjoy working in a place like this, sitting all day under headache-inducing lights.

"We're done waiting, Harlow. Either start tearing it down, or we're pulling out." The investor leaned forward, the pen clutched tightly in his hand now.

Seth's gaze swept across the room. His lawyer sat beside him, calm and composed, while Tom sat across the table, lounging comfortably next to the investor.

Tom wore a smug smile-a look that made Seth's jaw tighten. That self-satisfied expression only reminded Seth how much control Tom still had over his life. Even now, as an adult, Tom had managed to forge an iron grip around Seth's throat.

He hated himself for the day, years ago, when he was just eighteen and allowed himself to be convinced-pressured, really-by his father and a group of powerful, intimidating men to sign that contract.

The ironclad contract that made Tom his manager.

The contract that bound his life to Tom's.

And the clause that ensured if Seth ever broke free from the agreement, all his finances would revert to his father. It would ruin him-ruin his career.

Sometimes Seth felt like the only way out was if Tom died. How utterly fucked up was that?

Of course, he hadn't realized the weight of it back then. He was just a kid-too young to know better, too naive to understand anything about laws, legal contracts, or agreements. Just a kid whose bastard of a father had him in a chokehold.

"This bet is a PR move. When I win, Freya will have no choice but to step aside, and the stable will be mine without resistance. If we bulldoze it now, we'll face backlash from the locals and lawsuits that could cost us far more than a few weeks of delay," Seth said, his voice calm but carrying the undercurrent of a warning. He locked eyes with Tom, daring him to challenge the plan.

"You're not just risking our money-you're risking our reputation," the investor said with a scowl, his pen hitting the table with a sharp tap.

Seth clenched his teeth. Why the fuck were they so stubborn?

"I understand your concerns, but a few more weeks won't destroy the project. However, tearing everything down now, without resolving the bet, could destroy my reputation-and yours," Seth said evenly, keeping his tone measured even as tension built in his chest.

The investor gave Tom a brief, narrow-eyed glance. Seth was sure this resistance wasn't just about finances. Tom probably had his claws in the investor too.

"The bet, while unconventional, is a strategic move to smooth the transition without attracting unnecessary negative attention to the project," Seth's lawyer chimed in, taking a calm sip from his glass of water. Unlike the others, he didn't seem fazed by Tom-or the investor's mounting tension.

"She's got nothing to lose, Seth. But you? You'll lose everything-and take us down with you." Tom's sneer stretched into something almost feral, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"You invested in me because I take risks-and those risks have always paid off. Give me this one shot, and I'll prove I'm still worth betting on," Seth said, his gaze meeting the investor's head-on, unwavering.

The room fell silent, the ticking of the clock on the wall suddenly deafening.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Just make the damn decision.

"Fourteen days."

Seth gave a small nod in response, his jaw tightening.

"If she wins, you'll lose the stable and the track. And trust me, no one will want to do business with you after that," the investor said.

"The clock starts now, Seth. You either win, or we cut ties completely. Choose wisely."

~*~*~*~*~

After hours under the headache-inducing lights, Seth's lawyer had finally drafted a new contract for the bet.

This time, there were no hidden clauses. Now, Freya had the same chance as he did to win.

It felt a lot better this way. Freya had proven herself a worthy opponent, someone who deserved an equal shot at victory as much as he did.

And yet, a cold, creeping chill settled deep inside him. If he lost now, there was no safety net.

If Seth lost, he'd never race again. He'd lose everything.

Seth left the lawyer's office, walking down the empty hallway, the contract clutched in his hand. The paper that would decide his future.

"Hey!"

Shit.

Seth spun around at the sharp voice. Tom was storming toward him, his face twisted in fury. The look in his eyes left no doubt-he was furious, to say the least.

"You fucking little bastard!" Tom snarled as he grabbed the collar of Seth's hoodie and slammed him hard against the wall. He pinned Seth with every ounce of strength he had, veins bulging in his neck like they were ready to burst.

Seth couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips. Seeing his father so rattled-so pissed-was oddly satisfying.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face," Tom hissed, his voice low and threatening, but his grip stayed firm.

"Not happy with the outcome, I take it?" Seth mocked, knowing full well he was poking a raging bear. But part of him was curious-how far would his father go?

"You're a fucking failure-a bastard born of a whore!" Tom spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You're no son of mine and never fucking were. I curse the day I let you ruin my life by existing. You're nothing but a waste of air, a pathetic excuse for a man, and the biggest fucking regret of my life!"

Seth tried to break free from Tom's grip, but his father was faster, throwing an arm across Seth's throat and pinning him harder against the wall. Seth's head smacked against the wall, sending a sharp jolt of pain down his spine.

Tom's forearm pressed into his windpipe with terrifying strength, cutting off Seth's air. His chest heaved, but the oxygen wasn't coming, and every second without it sent a wave of panic crashing over him.

His father's breath was hot and ragged against his ear. "You've always been a fucking disappointment," Tom hissed. "I should've strangled you in your crib."

Seth clawed at Tom's arm, his nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, but it was like trying to fight a steel beam. His vision began to blur, dark spots spreading across his sight as the lack of air burned in his lungs.

Every nerve in his body screamed for relief, but Tom only pressed harder, baring his teeth in a twisted sneer. "Look at you," he snarled, his face inches away from Seth's. "Pathetic. Weak. I regret ever sticking my dick into that whore!"

"Don't fucking call her that!" Seth growled, his voice barely escaping his throat.

The pressure on his throat was unbearable now, a hot pain radiating through his body. Seth's legs kicked out instinctively, his boots scuffing against the floor, but it was no use. His body was betraying him, growing weaker by the second.

This is it, Seth thought, panic gripping his mind. I'm going to die in this fucking hallway.

Then something snapped inside him. A primal, burning instinct to survive took over, adrenaline surging like fire through his veins. His hands, trembling and desperate, reached up and gripped Tom's wrist with everything he had left.

Seth tore Tom's arm away from his throat and slammed his head forward. The crack of bone against bone made Tom stumble backward.

His father clutched his head, doubling over for a moment to collect himself. When he straightened again, blood poured from his nose.

It was a beautiful sight.

Seth took a step forward and drove his fist into Tom's face. The blow sent his father crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.

For a moment, Tom didn't move. He lay sprawled on the floor, his chest heaving as blood dripped down his face. When he finally stirred, his eyes found Seth's, wide with a mix of disbelief and something Seth had never seen in him before-fear.

"You-you're making a mistake," Tom rasped, his voice unsteady. "You'll lose. You'll end up with nothing."

Seth crouched down slowly, his face inches from Tom's, their gazes locked.

"If I lose this," Seth growled, his voice cold and deadly, "it'll be my pleasure to drag you down with me."

Tom didn't answer. For the first time in Seth's memory, he had nothing to say.

Seth straightened, letting the silence settle between them. His hands were still trembling, his chest burned from the fight, but the weight that had sat heavy on his shoulders for years now felt lighter.

Tom was just a man.

A bloodied, broken man.

Without a second glance, Seth walked away, his footsteps steady in the quiet hallway. The contract was crumpled in his grip, its edges biting into his palm, but he didn't loosen his hold. It wasn't victory-not entirely-but it felt like the first step toward something that could be.

He kept his eyes forward. What was behind him didn't matter anymore.