Page 120 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

Practically gloating over the victory he thinks he has achieved.

Silas runs a finger over the writing. “A detailed list of every horrific deed Martin Bolton ever committed—at least those that my father was aware of. Dates, names, locations, amounts paid to the victims to keep them silent. Hell, even the names of some of the police officers they paid to ensure Marty didn’t end up behind bars—”

Marty releases a sardonic laugh, instantly chilling my blood. “All you have are the writings of a man with a bone to pick. He and I have been battling for control of the company for months. He had every reason to write libelous information about me in there to try to sway the board. There’s absolutely no reason any of them should believe a single word of it.”

Fuck.

He isn’t wrong.

Ursula said they’d been arguing. Undoubtedly, Marty was getting tired of waiting for his turn at the helm and wanted his older brother to step down. And since he wouldn’t, he found a way to make it happen himself.

Silas glances over at me, the panic in his gaze twisting my gut. He knows his uncle is right. All that’s there in that book are accusations made by someone who had a motive to lie.

No matter how much we tried over the last few days to get in contact with any of the people named in there, they were all either dead, unreachable, or unwilling to admit they knew the Boltons—probably because they still feared the man staring us down from across the room. Which means we have no witnesses to back up anything written.

But I know someone who isn’t afraid of him anymore.

I watch the panic in Silas’ gaze flip to determination.

What is he going to do?

He reaches up and grabs his tie, pulling the knot loose.

Oh God, no.

I rush toward him as he jerks off the tie and lets it fall onto the conference room table beside the book. “Silas, what the hell are you doing?”

He shucks off the suit coat and casually hangs it on the back of the chair, then reaches for the top button of the white dress shirt. His inked fingers undo it, then another, working his way down, exposing more of his tattoos to the men and women seated at the table. “I’m showing them evidence they can’t deny and giving them eyewitness testimony.”

Shit.

I squeeze my eyes closed and swallow back the bile threatening to make me gag. His hands cup my face, and he tilts it up toward him. I open my eyes and meet his.

The soft sea of blue I could get lost swimming in holds so much affection and confidence. “I can do this.”

The words I said to him before we walked out of the elevator ring in my ears, and this time, I know he believes it, too.

I nod, placing my hand over his on my cheek. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He gives me a quick kiss and releases me so he can continue to unbutton his shirt.

Marty pushes to his feet, his jaw locked, anger flaring his nostrils. “What the hell are you doing?”

Silas makes it to the center of his chest and pulls the shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants so he can reach the rest of the buttons. He turns away from me to face his uncle. “What I should have done years ago. Showing everyone what you did to me.”

* * *

SILAS

I didn’t have the strength to do this fifteen years ago, and I wouldn’t have had it even a month ago. But the woman standing next to me has given it to me.

Lyla has helped me prove to myself that I can move past what the piece of shit at the other end of the table did. That I can become someone else besides the broken man I had let those memories make me, that I can save other people from the pain I experienced by just speaking up and telling my truth, which is exactly what I fucking intend to do.

I undo the cuff links at my wrists as the wide eyes of the board members roam over the tattoos on my chest and stomach.

These aren’t the type of people who appreciate body art, and I know showing them will automatically change their opinion of me—and not for the better.

But there isn’t any other way.

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