Page 27 of The Breakup Broker

“Then she’d better stay far away from anything involving this family,” he said. “Because if she crosses us again, I’ll make sure her little business—and her family—regret it.”

A wave of panic surged through me. “Leave her out of this,” I said, my voice low and steady. “She had nothing to do with it. Caroline didn’t want to marry me, and that’s all there is to it.”

“That’s all?” he repeated, his voice cold and mocking. “The Ashworths are calling for answers. You’ll fix this by the end of the week.”

“I told you, there’s nothing to fix. It’s over.”

“You’ll smooth things out,” he said with finality. “Or I’ll destroy the Honeysuckers for ruining what I built.”

The line went dead, leaving an icy knot of dread in its wake. Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, I let out a shaky breath. My father was a master of wielding power as a weapon, and now that Savvy had re-entered the picture, I knew he would aim it straight at her if it suited his purposes.

My father’s threats sat heavy in my chest as I drove the rest of the way to Madison Center. When I stepped into my grandfather’s room, I tried to keep my expression calm,though it was clear today wasn’t one of his good days. His usually vibrant eyes were dull, and his gaze seemed far away, fixed on the garden beyond the window.

“Grandfather,” I greeted softly, taking the seat beside him.

He turned toward me slowly, his gaze searching my face. I thought I saw a spark of recognition for a moment, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “And you are?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

My stomach clenched. “It’s me. I’m Henry, your grandson.” I reached out and placed my hand over his. “I came to check on you.”

His fingers curled slightly under mine, but he didn’t pull away. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, his gaze drifting back to the window. “It’s so quiet in this place. Too quiet.”

I looked out at the manicured gardens, the vibrant fall colors doing little to lift the heaviness in the air. “I spoke to her, Grandfather,” I ventured after a moment. “Savvy. She said she’d come to see you.”

His brow furrowed as he processed the name. “Savvy,” he repeated slowly, testing it out. Then, with a tilt of his head, he said, “Who is that?”

I cleared my throat, struggling to keep my voice steady. “She’s … someone important. Someone who means a lot to both of us.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his focus drifted again. “It’s nice out there today,” he said, nodding toward the garden. “The trees … the colors…”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yes, they’re beautiful.”

We sat in silence for a while, the quiet broken only by the distant hum of activity in the hallway. I wanted to tellhim more, to reassure him that Savvy would come, but the words didn’t come. Would she keep her promise? Or was I setting him—and myself—up for disappointment?

The sound of a nurse entering pulled me out of my thoughts. She offered me a small, sympathetic look as she approached. “Mr. Morrison, it’s time for your medication and a nap.”

My grandfather sighed heavily, his usual spark of resistance dimming. “All right, all right,” he muttered. As the nurse helped him take his pills, he looked back at me, his gaze momentarily sharper. “Henry,” he said, his voice carrying a note of clarity. “She’s coming, isn’t she?”

The question surprised me, and for a moment, I froze. Then, summoning more confidence than I had, I nodded. “She’s visiting you today, Grandfather.”

His expression changed, the warmth I remembered glimmering back into his eyes. “Good,” he said. “I’d like to see her.”

As I left the Madison Center, his words echoed in my mind, filling me with hope and dread. Savvy had said she would come, but would she?

CHAPTER TEN

Savvy

The train ride to Madison Center stretched endlessly before me, each mile a reminder of the control I was choosing to relinquish. I’d cleared my calendar for the next few days, a rash decision made without fully understanding why. It wasn’t like me to leave loose ends, but after yesterday, I couldn’t trust myself to keep delivering perfect goodbyes. Three hundred and forty-two flawless endings, yet all it had taken was one look at Henry Kingston to unravel me.

The trip gave me seventy-five minutes to question everything—coming alone, the last five years of my life. Manhattan’s skyline loomed ahead, sharp and glittering, like a crown of thorns. It was Henry’s world. One I’d always circled but never touched. In that world, I’d made a name for myself by being his opposite: the kind of person who could walk away without leaving a piece of herself behind.

When I stepped off the train, the late afternoon air had that particular Manhattan crispness that usually centered me before a job. Not today. Today, my professional distancefelt like tissue paper in a storm. I couldn’t stop replaying yesterday’s scene—the way my voice had cracked on his name, the raw edge in my tone as I delivered Caroline’s goodbye, the moment years of perfect composure had shattered like cheap glass.

Madison Center loomed ahead, all gleaming glass and modern angles—nothing like the architecture that Henry and I used to admire along River Bend’s waterfront. Inside, the warmth hit me like a wall, and I shrugged off my jacket, the soft cashmere sweater beneath chosen with deliberate thought. It was comfortable without looking careless, saying, “I’m doing fine,” without trying too hard to prove it.

The lobby radiated calculated comfort—polished floors gleaming like a magazine cover, a receptionist with an air of professional charm, and chairs designed to suggest luxury without overstaying your welcome. A piano rendition of “Moon River” floated through the air, subtle enough to feel elegant but prominent enough to ensure you noticed it.

I fought back a laugh. Of course, they’d put Henry’s grandfather in a place where even the background music seemed deliberate.

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