Page 115 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

“Why?”

“If that’s where he was spending his time right before he died, maybe there’s something there that can tie Marty to his death or something else.”

It’s a long shot.

But at this point, we don’t have anything else to go on.

I rise from the bed and approach the woman standing in front of Silas, suddenly realizing he hasn’t bothered to introduce me yet. “Hi, I’m Lyla.”

“Shit.” Silas winces and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Ursula, this is my wife.”

Ursula’s eyes widen slightly. “Wife?” Her wrinkled lips curl into a genuine smile, perhaps the first one I’ve seen from anyone since we got into town. “Oh, Silas, I’m so happy for you.” She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. “Do what I couldn’t. Take care of him…”

Silas presses a kiss to my temple. “She already does.”

* * *

SILAS

The longer I’m inside this house of horrors, the more determined I become to burn the fucking place down when I’m done with it. Each generation that lived here, the people who built our empire from inside these walls, would be absolutely disgusted to know what happened.

And not just to me.

Could Marty really have killed Father and Ronald?

I don’t want to believe it, but something deep in my gut tells me neither were “heart attacks.” Uncle Marty is smart enough to have itlooknatural so questions aren’t asked—like he might have done with Mom—but killing people he sees as a threat wouldn’t be out of his wheelhouse.

Ursula said Father was arguing with Marty, and that fact alone raises my suspicions even more—makes whatshouldbe unthinkable seem almost likely.

Those two were always so close, inseparable, really.

What possibly could have driven a wedge between them? What could have turned them against each other?

Something tells me the answer lies in Father’s office, the place that was always strictly off-limits to me as a child. So many kids grow up at their parents’ feet, under their desks, sitting on their laps while they work, but not me.

This was hallowed ground, and I was never allowed to step into it. Of course, it didn’t mean that I complied; I just tried to make sure I wasn’t caught because I knew what the consequences would be if Father or Marty ever found me in there.

But I don’t need to sneak around anymore.

I lead Lyla down the stairs and through the hallway to the west wing, where Father chose to set up his office so he could watch the sunset out the massive windows facing the horizon.

Lyla squeezes my hand as we move past several closed doors that I have no desire to open. Having her here with me for this is truly the only thing keeping me grounded. If I had attempted this alone, I never would have made it inside and certainly wouldn’t have been able to keep my head on straight.

Even with everything going on with her brother, she’s still beside me. Still myrock. Still willing to follow me into the lion’s den in hopes of finding the answer to our prayers.

We reach the door to Father’s office, and I take a moment to try to get my shit together before opening it. Lyla doesn’t push me, merely tightens her grip on my hand and waits with me until I grab the knob, twist it, and push.

The familiar smell of stale cigar smoke, wood polish, and bourbon fills the air. I inhale deeply, another flood of memories coming with it.

Father’s booming voice coming from behind the closed door…

Pressing my ear against it to try to hear what was being said…

Ursula seeing me and shooing me away before I got caught…

Lyla squeezes my hand again. “You okay?”

I don’t know how long we’ve been standing here in the hallway as I just stare into the room, lost in my head. But I can’t avoid going in forever. “I will be.”

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