Page 41 of The Breakup Broker

Our fight. The words lingered in the air, foreign and strangely comforting at the same time. I wanted to push him away, to hold on to the anger that had shielded me for so long, but the cracks in my defenses were widening. Henry Kingston had a way of doing that—slipping past my walls, leaving me exposed to emotions I didn’t want to feel.

I took a deep breath, crossing my arms to steady myself. “And after the board meeting? What then?”

“Then we regroup,” he said, his voice steady. “We figure out our next move. My father won’t go down without a war.”

“Good,” I said, my chin lifting defiantly. “Because I’m not afraid of a fight.”

For a moment, Henry looked at me, something unreadable in his eyes. “I know,” he said. “You’ve never been afraid of anything. That’s one thing I’ve admired about you.”

I looked away, the intensity in his voice too much to bear. The room seemed to close in around me, the pressure of our conversation mounting with each passing second. “You’d better not let me down, Henry,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Because if you do...”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his eyes never leaving mine. “Not this time.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, but I forced myself to stay composed. I couldn’t afford to let hope creep in—not yet. Not when so much was still uncertain.

Henry stepped back, his movements deliberate. “I should go,” he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “It’slate, and you have enough to deal with without me standing here making things harder.”

I didn’t respond, my throat too tight to speak. Instead, I watched as he moved toward the door, his hand hesitating on the knob.

“Savvy,” he said, turning back to face me. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know … I’m not walking away again. I’ll see this through—for you, your family, and River Bend. And after that, well…” He paused. “After that, I’ll leave it up to you.”

My heart twisted, the vulnerability in his words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. I nodded, my emotions too tangled to form a coherent response.

Henry opened the door, the cool night air rushing in as he stepped outside. For a moment, he lingered on the threshold as if waiting for me to say something, anything, to stop him. But I stayed silent, rooted in place, until he disappeared into the shadows.

I turned back to the quiet of the bookstore, the rows of books suddenly feeling like a refuge and a cage all at once. Mom’s organized world surrounded me—the neat stack of invoices on her counter, the perfectly aligned bestseller display, everything in its proper place. Everything except me, standing here with my heart thundering in my chest.

I was drawn to the window, my fingers brushing the cool glass as I stared into the empty street.

“Don’t mess this up, Henry,” I whispered to the night. “Please, don’t screw this up.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Henry

I drew a deep breath, bracing myself before pushing open the heavy oak doors to the boardroom. The tension inside was almost palpable, the air charged with the gravity of decisions that could alter River Bend’s future. As I stepped in, my gaze immediately landed on my father at the head of the table—Richard Kingston III, the embodiment of corporate dominance, his tailored suit immaculate, his silver hair precisely styled. He was mid-sentence, but the words died on his lips the moment he saw me.

"Henry," he said, recovering quickly. "I wasn't expecting you today."

The room fell silent, a dozen pairs of eyes turning toward me. I kept my expression steady, feigning ease. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Dad."

As I took a seat, I caught the subtle tightening of his jaw. He was pissed, but he wouldn't make a scene. Not here, not now, with all these witnesses. I nodded at a few familiarfaces around the table. Some seemed curious, others skeptical. I wondered how many of them my father had won over.

Dad cleared his throat, reclaiming the room's attention. "As I was saying, gentlemen, our vision for River Bend is nothing short of transformative."

I listened as he launched into his pitch, his voice smooth as silk, painting a picture of progress and prosperity. But all I could see was the destruction of everything that made the town special. The local businesses pushed out, replaced by chain stores and overpriced condos. The marina where I spent my summers turned into a sterile yacht club with waterfront mansions.

My hands clenched under the table as I thought of Savvy, of her family’s bookstore. Of all the people who called River Bend home, blissfully unaware of the storm headed their way.

"This project will bring River Bend into the 21st century," my father continued, his eyes gleaming with barely contained triumph. "We're not just developing property. We're creating a legacy."

A legacy built on lies and manipulation,I thought. But I forced myself to stay calm, to listen. I needed to know exactly what we were up against if I had any hope of stopping this.

As Richard droned on about projected profits and property values, my mind drifted to my mother. What would she think of all this? She loved River Bend as much as I did, but she was too afraid to stand up to my father. I wondered if she even knew the full extent of his plans.

River Bend wasn’t just another town—it was a place where people looked out for each other, where a handshake still meant something, and where life moved at a pace that let you breathe. There was an honesty to it, a simplicity thatfelt like stepping back into a time when the world wasn’t so complicated. It was the kind of town where neighbors showed up unannounced with casseroles when you were sick and where the waitress at the diner knew your order by heart. There weren’t any hidden agendas, no fine print. Just real people living real lives.

And my father wanted to bulldoze it all in favor of something shinier, something that would never have the heart of the place it replaced.

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