Page 123 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

“You can’t do this.” He takes a step back and then another. “You can’tdothis!”

Every scar on my body tingles with the utter despair in his cry.

The man who got off on creating that kind of anguish in others has been crushed under the boot of the boy who took the worst of it.

And it’s time to drive the final nail into the coffin.

“I also provided a copy of this”—I hold up the journal—“to the FBI. I’m sure they’ll be contacting you soon…”

His eyes widen, and I see the same fear I once felt reflected back at me before he turns and rushes from the conference room.

Before the door can even close behind him, Lyla wraps her arms around me and buries her face against my bare chest. “You did good, Silas.”

I drop a kiss to the top of her head as Whiskey rubs up against my hand, finally relaxing now that Marty’s gone.

Dr. Anderson climbs to his feet and makes his way around the table toward me. He extends a hand. “You did well, Silas. Your father would’ve been proud of you.” He motions to the board. “We’ve all been trying to figure out a way to get rid of Marty for years, but you finally did it. I wish your father would’ve been here to see it.”

“Me, too.”

And I actually mean it, despite everything he did to me—or failed to do.

“Everything is going to change for Bolton Steel.”

And staring down into Lyla’s eyes, I know it’s going to change for us, too.

For the better.

ChapterTwenty

LYLA

The familiar, rhythmic sound of Silas slamming his axe over and over again into pieces of wood echoes across the property. I never thought hearing that would be so comforting, that this place would feel so much like home to me. But after being back here for a week, I can’t ever imagine being anywhere else again.

Silas was in a rush to return to the mountain after the board meeting, and I finally understand why.

There’s just something about this place.

A magic in the air that immediately relieves the tension in my body and unrest in my soul. It allows me to relax even when so much is still unsettled. Though, it might have something to do with the company up here, too.

Except this guy.

He’s an asshole.

With my hand on the gate, I stare down Billy in the goat pen and point a finger at him. “Don’t even think about it, you little asshole. If you want treats, you can’t try to get out this time.”

One thing I’ve learned about Billy since our little walkabout in the forest is he’ll do almost anything for a carrot, and I’ve been using it to my advantage whenever possible to keep him from bolting again.

Whiskey sits next to me, staring up, waiting for me to open the gate. I insisted on borrowing him from Silas long enough for him to help me with the animals, in case Billy decided to make another escape.

I undo the latch on the gate, and Billy immediately runs for it.

Little jerk.

I’ve learned my lesson, though, and I slip in and close it quickly, turning to face the tiny goat that gave us so much trouble. “Are you going to be like this your whole life, little guy?”

He releases a baa in response, takes the small carrot from my hand, and then runs off toward his brother and parents near the shed where we keep their feed. I make my way over to them, get them fed with only a few playful nips from the twins, then head back for the gate where Whiskey waits for me, tail wagging. After I secure the pen, I turn to pet him and tell him he can go back to Silas, but the sound of the axe no longer hangs in the air.

Once Silas is in a rhythm, he rarely stops, and the utter silence on the property makes Whiskey’s ears perk up. I listen, too, for any signs of where Silas might have gone, but he comes around the side of the barn before I have to go looking for him.

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