Her unhesitating declaration of hatred was like a sharp knife plunging deep into Conrad’s heart. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if he were bleeding out, drop by drop.
It hurt.
“About your father, I…” Conrad began, the words “am so sorry” on the tip of his tongue, but Annika cut him off.
“Don’t talk about my father,” she snarled, her body trembling and her eyes turning red. “You don’t have the right.”
“I don’t have the right either,” she whispered, burying her face in her hands as tears streamed through her fingers. She had been living with crushing guilt. She had been powerless to save her father, and her marriage had been the nail in his coffin.
“Annika…” Watching her agony, Conrad felt a pang in his own heart.
He murmured her name, stubbed out his cigarette, and rose from his chair. He walked over to her and loosely wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his lips finally formed the word, “Sorry.”
But that one word grated on Annika’s raw nerves. “Don’t be a hypocrite!” she cried, shoving him away with all her might. Caught off guard, Conrad stumbled backward, nearly falling.
Annika froze, a flicker of alarm in her eyes. But when she saw he had steadied himself, her expression hardened again.
She expected him to be furious, but instead, a bitter laugh escaped him. He brushed the dust from his sleeves. “Mason wasn’t a good person. He preyed on plenty of young women. Besides, it was his rival, Tyson Capital Group, that wanted him destroyed. It had nothing to do with me.”
Conrad never explained himself to anyone. Annika was the exception.

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