Page 5 of Marrying His Brother

Mrs. Young looks utterly stunned, a gasp escaping her lips. And then there’s Emily. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react immediately, just sits there for a moment, processing the words.

I pour myself a large glass of whiskey and down it in one go.

Chapter 3: Emily

The drive home is silent except for the hum of the engine. My knuckles are white on the steering whee , trying to make sense of what just happened.

I should’ve seen this coming when he went quiet over the last few weeks, but, I just assumed he was busy, partying up a storm as usual.

“Maybe this is a sign,” Mom says from the passenger seat, breaking the silence.

I glance at her. “A sign of what?”

“That the wedding was a bad idea to begin with,” she says, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know how we would have explained this to your father. Selling off half his company...”

I scoff, shaking my head. “What will he say if he wakes up to no company at all?” My words are sharper than I intend, but I can’t help it. I’m furious.

Damn Daniel.

Damn everything.

I bite down on my lip, trying to focus on the road ahead, but all I can think about is what this means for Riviera.

The problems we face. The endless problems. There’s always something—the leaking pipes, the outdated infrastructure, the angry guests. Every day, it’s another disaster waiting to happen, and now, without this wedding and the capital it would have brought in, what am I going to do?

I slam my palm on the steering wheel, my frustration bubbling over. “This was supposed to be the perfect solution. An injection of capital would’ve meant renovations, finally fixing all the damn issues. We could’ve launched an aggressive marketing plan, drawn in more clients, and filled those rooms. Now, it's all gone! And I’ll just have to watch it all go downhill.”

My mother’s gaze pierces me, but I don’t look at her. I can’t. The pressure is too much, the disappointment too sharp. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the tension settling like a heavy fog between us.It wasn’t fair to take it out on my mother. I was losing control and I knew it, the feeling settling over me like a huge weight. I needed to get it off my chest. I needed to talk out loud and unload what I could. But, who else would even listen?

We pull up to the house, and I put the car in park, but I don’t turn to face her. Instead, I stare straight ahead, my mind already racing through contingency plans, none of which seem feasible.

“You’ve done everything you could, Emily,” she says softly, reaching out to touch my hand. “No one could have asked more of you, including your father.”

I turn to her and smile. “We’ll think of something else.” Empty words. I have no plan B or C. Or D for that matter.

As she disappears inside, I lean back against the seat and close my eyes. What am I supposed to do now?

***

I stand in the middle of the Riviera Army Base hotel, watching the repairs going on around me. The place is a mess. No matter how much patchwork we do, it’s not enough. This hotel needs more than a few fixes. It needs a full renovation and that takes money we don’t have.

I walk past a section of piping they’ve torn open, shaking my head. The water damage stretches farther than I thought. I swallow the frustration bubbling in my chest, but it’s a losing battle.

Every time I look at these walls, I get angry all over again. At the state of the hotel. At the never-ending problems. At Daniel.

Daniel and his damn cowardice. We were six weeks away from a solution. Six weeks from pulling Riviera out of the quicksand it was sinking into. And he couldn’t even tell me to my face. Instead, he sent his brother.

As I try to focus on the contractors, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see a new number flashing across the screen. Probably more bad news. Don’t they say that when it rains, it pours?

I hit answer, already dreading the call.

“Emily Young.”

“Emily, it’s Andrew Bennett.”

I freeze for a second, caught off guard. Andrew. Of course. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting to deal with the Bennetts after Daniel bailed, but I wasn’t expecting it this early, and certainly not Andrew. We barely knew each other.

“I need to meet with you. It’s important,” he says, not even bothering with a greeting. His tone is blunt, curt.

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