Page 96 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

It’s the bed I share with Lyla and sometimes Whiskey.

“I’ll pay someone to clean it out when the time comes. I don’t think I can ever set foot in there again.”

She gives me a sympathetic look. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to. I’m sorry I suggested it.”

For two centuries, that house held our family. It was the place everyone came for holidays and parties, where Bolton Steel was built into the most successful steel company in the world. But it was also Father’s and Uncle Marty’s playhouse, where they got away with anything they wanted, where they used and abused people.

“Don’t apologize.” I press a kiss on her forehead. “I don’t want the house. I want nothing to do with it, but I will relish seeing Uncle Marty’s face when I take it from him.”

I drop my head and bury my face in her hair, clinging to her tightly. That citrusy shampoo scent that always clings to her wafts over me, and I inhale it deeply. “Your hair smells so good.”

She laughs against my chest. “Um, thanks?”

I pull back and tilt her chin up. “Really, I love that smell.”

She stiffens slightly, and I realize I’ve said a very important word in kind of a strange context.

All the air sucks out of the room, and she searches my face as if she’s waiting for me to say something else, something more.

But I can’t.

I don’t know if I would recognize love when I never saw it myself. Saying it to her wouldn’t mean anything when I don’t understand it or know if I’m even capable of it.

All I know is that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Lyla. I would’ve stayed on the mountain, kept hiding, kept trying to forget this life that always haunted me. It’sherstrength that allowed me to get this far and will get me into that board meeting tomorrow.

I capture her face in my hands, tilting her head up. “Thank you.”

Her soft brow furrows. “For what?”

“For coming with me.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do, be by your side in sickness and health, good times and bad, all that jazz?”

The playful, light way she references our vows makes my heart clench.

What was supposed to be fake has turned real so quickly, but there’s still so much I don’t know about Lyla Sinclair—like why she needed that money in the first place.

But I don’t ask her, no matter how badly I want to know.

I still have my secrets, the worst of what he did to me, that I’ll never tell a soul, and I can let her have that one.

ChapterFifteen

SILAS

Bolton Steel hasn’t changed in fifteen years.

The same building towers over me, and the familiar suffocating sense of dread settles on my chest before I’ve even walked in the door.

As a child, this place was Father’s and Uncle Marty’s, so I avoided it whenever possible. Each time I was dragged here with them, I spent as much time as possible exploring the hallways and back offices, as far away from them as I could get for as long as possible. This building represented the men I feared, but now, I don’t have a choice because Lyla’s right. If I don’t do this now, Uncle Marty wins, and he will continue to hurt people, putting the company in jeopardy.

Something the Boltons have struggled for and built up for centuries could be gone in an instant with that man at the helm. He would destroy our family name and legacy and continue his reign of terror, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t let any of this continue. I have to do what I should have done back then.

End it.

Once and for all.

Lyla loops her arm through mine and squeezes. I shift uncomfortably in the suit, tugging at the neck of the shirt, tight against my throat, for the millionth time since I put it on at the hotel this morning.

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