Page 70 of The Wexley Inn
“That’s wonderful news. The milestone requirements will all be met comfortably ahead of schedule.”
“Well, we were concerned about those permit issues last month,” Gerald said, making some notes on his documents. “But then we heard about the county complaints and potential review delays, and the loan committee had some serious discussions about risk exposure. But Thomas’s personal guarantee really reassured us. Having someone of his stature and local standing co-sign gave us the confidence to keep the original terms rather than calling the loan or changing the rates.”
The words seemed to come from far away, reaching Isabella through a strange ringing sound in her ears.
“I’m sorry, what personal guarantee?”
Gerald looked up, his expression changing to one of concern. “Thomas’s co-signature on your loan? He didn’t tell you?”
Isabella felt the room tilt slightly, her hands gripping the arms of the leather chair. “Wait, Thomas co-signed my loan?”
“Well, yes. About two weeks ago, when those anonymous complaints were filed with the county, the uncertainty in the timeline created a risk exposure from the bank’s perspective. If your opening were delayed past December 31st, as you know, we would have had to invoke the performance clauses. But Thomas offered to personally guarantee the loan, which essentially removed our risk. Gerald’s discomfort was growing more apparent. “Isabella, you did know about this, didn’t you?”
“No.” The word came out flat. “I did not know.”
“Oh.” Gerald set his pen down carefully. “I assumed, given your relationship with Thomas, that this was something you had discussed by now.”
“What exactly did he guarantee?” Her voice even sounded strange to her own ears, too calm, too controlled, while her hands were trembling.
Gerald pulled a file from his desk drawer, wishing he were anywhere else, if the look on his face was any indication. “He’s personally liable for the loan balance if the bank has to call it. That’s currently about $350,000, though it decreases as you make your payments, of course. He also vouched for the project’s viability and your management capabilities, which carried significant weight with our loan committee.”
$350,000. Thomas had put himself on the line for $350,000 - more money than some people saw in a lifetime - without even telling her. He had made decisions about her business, her loan, and her financial future without consulting her.
“And again, when did this happen?”
“Well, the paperwork was signed on November 3rd.” Gerald looked genuinely distressed. “Now, Isabella, I’m very sorry. I truly thought you knew. This was presented as a mutual decision to protect the project during a difficult period.”
November 3rd. The day after Grayson’s threats. The day after she called Thomas panicking about the permit complaints. The day he’d said he would look into it and make some calls. This was what he had meant by handling it.
Isabella stood, her movements mechanical, like she was some kind of robot. “Thank you for the information, Gerald. I’ll review the documents and get back to you about the disbursement.”
“Isabella—”
“Thank you, Gerald.”
She walked out of his office with her spine straight and her hands clenched at her sides, just holding herself together through sheer force until she reached her car. Then she sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the steering wheel, trying to process what she had just learned.
Thomas had guaranteed her loan, had put his own financial security at risk. He’d made decisions about her business without even consulting her. He’d gone behind her back to protect her from knowing how vulnerable her position was, and he had treated her like a child who couldn’t handle adult problems.
The betrayal felt physical, a sharp, hot pain in her chest. Not because he had helped. She understood he’d been trying to solve a problem. But because he’d done it without telling her, without giving her a say, without respecting her enough to let her make her own decisions about her own business.
Flashbacks - just like all those years ago, when he decided what was best for both of them without giving her any choice in the matter. She had spent months believing they were building a genuine partnership, that this time it was different, that Thomas had grown, that she had grown, that they could be equals working together. And all along, he’d been making decisions for her, protecting her, managing her life without her knowledge or consent.
She started the car, her hands shaking with rage that she could barely contain. Isabella was usually a calm, cool, collected person, but right now she felt like she could wring his neck.
She drove toward the inn on autopilot, her mind replaying every conversation they’d had over the past couple of weeks. Every time he’d reassured her about the permit situation, every time he told her not to worry, that he was handling it.
This was not what handling it meant. Taking control, making guarantees she never would have agreed to given the choice, putting himself at risk without her knowledge, treating her like someone who needed rescuing instead of the capable professional who could solve her own problems.
By the time she pulled into the inn’s driveway, the initial shock had turned into a cold fury. Thomas’s truck was already there - of course it was - because he was always there, always working on her project, always helping her in ways she apparently couldn’t understand or appreciate unless he hid them from her.
She found him in the dining room, kneeling beside the refinished floor with Wade, discussing the final coat of finish. He looked up when she entered, his face lighting up with that smile that usually made her heart skip a beat.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon. How’d the bank meeting—” He stopped, clearly reading something in her expression. “Isabella, is something wrong?”
“I need to speak with you. Privately.” Her voice was ice.
Wade looked between them and stood up quickly. “I’ll just go check the veranda.”
