Page 32 of Daddy's Christmas Rescue
“So,” he said gently, “Banjo, Biscuit, and me… we kinda need you home, okay?”
The world went silent even as my father started to speak—something about family, about forgiveness—but my mother touched his arm, and the words died. She was staring at Blakewith disgust. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. The only thing that existed was that tiny, worn bunny in his hands.
“Holly,” my Mom tried again. “Think what Nana would have wanted.”
And that was it. All I needed because I knew to my toes Nana wanted me to be happy. My fingers twitched before I even meant them to. Then I reached out, shaking, until my fingertips brushed the soft, frayed fabric.
It broke something open inside me. Not fear. Not even sadness. Just this raw, aching relief like the world had been holding me underwater, and I’d finally taken a breath.
I took a slow step forward. “Holly.” My voice came out rough. “You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to. Not now. Not ever.”
Her eyes flicked toward me, just once. A spark. Then she looked down again.
Her father’s tone hardened. “You don’t understand, Weston. She’s fragile.”
I met his gaze head-on. “No. She’s strong as hell. You just broke her for so long she forgot what strength feels like.”
That wiped the smirk right off Vincent’s face, and Holly saw it. She looked up again, studying me as if she was weighing every lie she’d ever been told against the truth she wanted to believe.
Then her chin lifted, just slightly. “Amanda said she was your fiancée,” she whispered. “She told me.”
The name burned like acid, but I held her gaze. “She was," I replied honestly.” "But I haven't seen her in nearly three years since she cheated on me."
Her mother scoffed behind her. “Honestly. How melodramatic.”
Her father stepped forward, voice sharp. “Enough. You’re staying.”
Holly’s hand trembled once, then went still. She straightened, squared her shoulders, and for the first time spoke with absolute clarity.
“No,” she said. “I’m not.”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to hurt.
Vincent’s smile vanished entirely. “Holly,” he warned.
She looked at him, and I saw the shift happen—the flicker turning into something fierce. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”
I moved then, slow and steady, holding out my hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”
Chapter eleven
Blake
Headlights swept the cab as Duke’s truck caught up behind us, his horn giving a short warning blast. My phone buzzed against the console. I tapped the speaker button.“Yeah?”
Rafe’s voice came through, low and urgent. “I’ve got my college buddy Tony on the line. Might have snowed them about my brother-in-law, but they're not going to let this go easily." The unspokenthey're not going to let her go easilywas eerily loud and I cursed. I'd been so focused on Holly, I hadn't given a thought to what came next.
“Miss Turner, I'm Agent Carlton,” Tony introduced himself. “We've had your business under investigation for some time, I'm afraid.”
Holly’s head snapped up. “My business? What do you mean my business? I don't own a business.”
Tony hesitated, and I heard the paper shuffle on his end. “Then I should probably tell you it looks like your parents weren’t entirely honest. You are the legal owner of ClearwaterInsurance. It was left to you in your grandmother's will and is being managed by your parents and your lawyer.”
She blinked fast, confusion warring with disbelief. “That's impossible. Why didn't I know?”
“Widescale fraud from what we can see,” Tony said gently. “The business—your grandmother’s company—was transferred into your name when she died. Your parents have been using your legal ownership to funnel money, file insurance claims, and shield assets. On paper, you’re the sole proprietor of two subsidiaries, including one that’s been moving seven-figure payouts.”
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the sound of the engine and the rush of wind outside. Then Holly’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “They used me. They used my name.”
