Page 122 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

I lift my arms and spin so he can see my entire chest and my back, both of my arms, and tilt my head up so he can view the scar around my neck. I drag my finger over it. “This is where he tried to strangle me the night I left and never came back.”

Dr. Anderson cuts his gaze to Marty but doesn’t say a word, all the color draining from his face.

Marty begins trembling, barely containing his rage. “This is all bullshit.” He smacks his palm against the table. “You can’t prove any of it. You have every reason to make it up, every reason to lie, to get your hands on the fucking company and the money.”

“I don’t give a shit about the money, Marty. I never have. You’re the only one who cared about it. You and Father.” I scan the stunned faces of the other people around the table. “I’m a Bolton just as much as he is. I’m in compliance with the terms of the trust, which means I have every right to take my fifty percent ownership of the company. But what I want to ask all of you is whether you really want a man like Martin Bolton here in these walls as your CEO. Given the amount of time you’ve all known him, I don’t believe for a fucking second that you didn’t suspect something was going on, that you didn’t see through the façade and the smiles and the act he put on for everyone else’s benefit. You all believe me because you know this man and you know what he’s capable of.”

On the verge of a complete meltdown, Marty smashes his fists against the table, kicking his chair back behind him. “Shut the fuck up!”

The snarl that comes from the end of the table makes everyone’s head snap toward Whiskey. He sits next to the chair I vacated, growling low, slobber dripping from his mouth as he stares down Uncle Marty.

“Even my dog doesn’t believe you, Marty, and he’s a pretty fucking good judge of character.”

Lyla can’t hide her half-grin at that, and she steps over next to him and places her hand on the back of his neck, trying to calm him before he tears Marty limb from limb in front of all these people and ruins the expensive white marble tile beneath our feet.

Dr. Anderson finally turns and looks up at me. “What are you asking for, Silas? What do you want us to do?”

“You fucking traitor!” Marty growls low and points at Dr. Anderson. “Don’t forget what I know about you, what I could do to your name and your career.”

Miriam gapes at her husband. “What the hell is he talking about?”

I snort an incredulous laugh. “He’s going back to his old tactics.” Returning to my spot at the foot of the table, I stand to one side of Whiskey with Lyla on the other. “He is using intimidation to try to scare you away from doing what you know is right. Remove him as CEO. Put me in place as interim CEO.”

Maeve Broderick shakes her head from the other side of the table. “Where have you been, Silas? You’ve been gone for fifteen years. You know nothing about the company, about what we’ve been doing, about where we’re going. How the hell are you going to run it?”

“With your help. With the help of the staff that I’m quite confident my father and Uncle Marty ensured knows what the fuck they’re doing. It doesn’t have to be permanent, and ultimately, if the board determines that it’s in the best interest of everyone, we’ll sell. But I’m the last Bolton, and my family built this company from the ground up. I’m not going to let this man destroy it with his greed and depraved behavior.”

“Depraved?” Marty rounds the table but stops short when Whiskey snarls again. “You have a lot of fucking nerve, kid, showing up here and trying to take this from me.”

“Do I?” I fist my hands at my sides, digging my nails into my palms to keep myself from doing what I really want to. “You tookeverythingfrom me. My home, my family, the safety and security I should have had. You took mychildhood,my fuckinglife,and I didn’t get it back until I mether.” I point at Lyla as tears well in her eyes. “We can figure out the future plans for Bolton Steel later. What matters is what we do in this moment, that we do what’s right, that we do what should have been done years ago, what my father wanted done.” I grab the journal and hold it up. “He wrote this before he died. He laid it all out so that I would have evidence to use against Marty because heknewMarty would go to great lengths to ensure that none of it ever saw the light of day otherwise.”

Someone clears their throat. “This will destroy the company if it gets out.”

I turn to the board member who spoke—a man I’ve met half a dozen times, at least—Stephan Russell. “We can’t be afraid of that, Stephan. We can’t be afraid ofhimanymore. I’m not.”

And for the first time in my entire life, I actuallymeanit.

Lyla slips her hand into mine and squeezes it.

The whole room watches Marty, his face red as he trembles, staring down the kid he thought he had taken care of all those years ago. He believed he had ensured my silence, broken me so badly that I would never stand up to him. And I wasthisclose to letting him win.

“You won’t get away with this, Silas—”

I keep my gaze on him. “I call for a vote to remove Martin Bolton as acting CEO of Bolton Steel. Do I have a second?”

Dr. Anderson looks at Marty. “Second.”

“All those in favor?”

Every single person around the table raises their hand as Marty gapes at them.

“You don’t know what you’re all doing. I will destroy all of you.”

I bark out a laugh. “You can sure try, but you have no job, no credibility, no home to go back to. I’ve called and had the locks changed.”

His mouth gapes open. “Youwhat?”

I grin at him, reduced to the same cowering, distraught child I was when he abused me. “I own the house, Marty. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”

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