Wrightwood sighed. "What's done is done," he said softly. "But take a look at the present and the future instead of the past; view this, honestly if you can, in the eye of an outsider."
"Can you?"
"I can and I have; I've also the opinion of outsiders."
"Do tell."
"I will. You are in what might be called an unpleasant situation. You are the legal heir to the Interstellar holdings whether or not you deny it. You were rechristened Wrightwood whether you try to deny it or not. In the eyes of the world you are my son, brought up by my money and educated by my background. You—"
"Thanks—"
Wrightwood held up a hand to still Steve's sour voice. "Hear me out. Instead of acting as heir to my fortune and crown prince to my business, you engage and embark upon a career which is in diametric opposition to my interest. In shorter words, you have left my company in anger and signed up with the opposition."
"Correct."
"So now, possibly to salve your own qualms, you are leaning so far over backwards that you are about to fall on the back of your head."
Steve snorted.