Emma was curled up in bed, a book in her hands, the soft lamplight casting a warm glow over the page. She was seconds from closing it for the night when the door slammed open.
Oliver strode in, hair mussed, tie hanging loose, his expensive cologne mixed with the faint scent of whiskey.
“Get dressed. We’re going to see Grandfather.”
Emma didn’t even glance up from her book. “What? Why?”
In two strides, he was at her bedside, yanking the covers off with a violent flick.
“This isn’t a request,” he bit out. “The old man knows about Shelby. He’s furious.”
She finally looked up, her eyes cool. “And that’s my problem because…?”
Oliver’s smile was slow and cruel. “Because if you don’t help me fix this, I’ll stop paying your mother’s medical bills.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a pois
