An Heir For The Billionaire. Kat Cantrell
in emphasis. “You shut yourself up in this billion-dollar prison. I’ve been in your presence twice now, and I have yet to see any evidence that money has made you happy.”
What would she say if he agreed with her? If he said that money had done nothing but give his father the power to rip away Reid’s soul? First by never being any kind of a father figure and then by taking his family with him on his journey to judgment day. The elder Chamberlain had picked his three-million-dollar Eclipse 550 as his weapon of choice, crashing the small jet deliberately and killing his wife and daughter.
Reid hadn’t been on board. He’d been too busy chasing that next dollar.
Scary how alike he and his father were. You could run, but you couldn’t hide from genetics. That’s why Reid hadn’t hesitated to say no when Nash came looking for someone to take in Sophia’s twins. Reid wasn’t father material. Reid was barely human material.
Money hadn’t insulated him from heartache; it only afforded him the means to create what Nora called a prison. To him, it was a refuge.
“I like being alone,” he finally said. “Having more money than the Bank of Switzerland allows me the luxury of kicking people out of my presence whenever I deem it necessary.”
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