Page 92 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

God, what does she do to bank managers? Jace said the bank manager in Christmas Valley had been intimidated by her, as well.

“Good,” she replies, her gaze cutting back to me. “Because I don’t think you fully understand how this works. Paying off the note won’t happen overnight. It’s going to take time, and during that time…” She trails off, her smile sharpening. “Let’s just say I’ll be watching closely.”

Emma clears her throat, stepping in before I can respond. “The bank has no legal reason to delay this process,” she says, her voice icy. “There may be steps the bank has to take…” Emma stares directly at Candace. “But if I sense anyone is dragging their feet, the Murphy family and the Celtic Knot Vineyard will file suit to ensure the payment is processed in a timely and acceptable manner.”

The room goes silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Mr. Davis looks like he wants to crawl under his desk, and Candace’s smile has turned brittle. I don’t know if it’s bureaucracy, incompetence, or just the stubborn resistance of fate, but every minute feels like a lifetime.

Finally, Mr. Davis clears his throat. “There’s no need for legal action, Ms. Murphy. I assure you; we’ll handle this as expeditiously as possible.”

Candace’s eyes narrow slightly, but she says nothing, her hands curling into fists at her sides. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s furious. She doesn’t like losing, and right now, she knows she’s losing.

“Good,” I say, standing. “Then we’ll leave you to it.”

Candace doesn’t wait for a polite farewell. She’s out the door, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. I watch her go, her back straight, her posture screaming defiance.

“I’ll handle this,” I mutter to Emma.

She raises an eyebrow. “You better before I do,” she says, leaning back with a faint, cheeky grin as I stride toward the door after Candace.

The storm outside hits me the second I step into the parking lot, the wind whipping against my face and the heavy scent of rain filling the air. Thunder rumbles low in the distance, the sky dark and churning. It feels fitting, somehow—a physical manifestation of the storm that’s been brewing between me and Candace since the moment I got back.

“Candace!” I call, jogging toward her as she reaches the limo.

She stops but doesn’t turn, her shoulders stiff. The driver is already reaching for the door handle, but I wave him off. “Give us a minute,” I say firmly.

The driver hesitates, then steps back, clearly unwilling to get in the middle of whatever’s about to happen.

“What do you want, Ryan?” Candace snaps, finally turning to face me. The wind pulls at her hair, sending golden strands flying around her face, but she doesn’t brush them away. Her eyes are bright, burning with fury, and her lips are set in a thin line.

“We need to talk,” I say, trying to keep my tone calm.

“We’ve talked enough,” she spits back. “I don’t owe you anything, least of all my time.”

“Why are you so damn angry?” I demand, stepping closer. “You’ve made it your mission to destroy me, my family, and anyone close to me. Why? To prove a point? To get back at me for something I don’t even know I did?”

Her laugh is bitter, cutting through the sound of the wind. “You don’t understand? Really, Ryan? You walked away from me. You left me with nothing—no explanation, no closure, nothing. You left your father to do your dirty work for you. And now you want to stand here and play the victim?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and I take a step back, stunned. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I left after the coroner’s inquest because I think my father killed my mother. I knew I’d kill him if I stayed. I had to get a handle on my rage. I didn’t know you even saw my father…”

“You didn’t know what?” she interrupts, her voice rising. “That I was pregnant? That I lost the baby? That I’ll never be able to have children? That I almost died that night? Of course you didn’t know, because you didn’t care enough to stay and find out!”

I can’t breathe. The weight of her words crashes down on me, splintering through every carefully constructed defense I’ve built over the years. My chest tightens, my ribs locking up like a vice around my lungs. A sharp, stinging pressure builds behind my eyes, but I blink hard, refusing to let it take me under.

She lost our child. Our child.And I never knew.

My pulse pounds, roaring in my ears as I try to make sense of it, but there’s no making sense of something like this. The realization burrows deep, clawing its way through my gut, leaving nothing but raw, open wounds in its wake. I should have been there. I should have known. I should have… God.

My hands tremble at my sides, fingers curling into fists as if that might somehow keep me from breaking apart. But the guilt—it’s suffocating, drowning me in everything I failed to do, everything I didn’t even realize I had already lost.

I force myself to look at her. Candace. The woman I walked away from. The woman I thought I was protecting. And now,she’s sitting in front of me, telling me the one truth that rips the ground out from under me.

“How?” The word barely makes it past my lips, hoarse and broken. “When?”

Her expression flickers, something guarded flashing through her eyes before she exhales slowly, like she’s bracing herself. And I hate that. I hate that she still feels like she has to steel herself against me, against this.

Because this—it isn’t something I can just shove down and ignore like I have with everything else.

I drag a hand over my face, my throat so damn tight it feels like I might choke on the regret lodged there. "Jesus, Candace," I whisper, voice shaking. "I didn't know." As if that makes a difference. As if my ignorance somehow absolves me of the pain she carried alone.

---