“I have spent my entire adult life trying to outrun what he did,” I said, the words spilling faster now. “My father. I’ve been small and careful and invisible. I changed my name, I moved, I built a life that took up as little space as possible in the hope that … if I were quiet enough, the monsters wouldn’t notice me.” My hands curled in my lap. “They noticed, anyway.”
No one spoke. No one interrupted. They just watched me, breathing with me.
“I thought this inheritance was some kind of test,” I said. “Stay a year. Don’t sell. See if you’re strong enough to hold onto anything without losing it. And then Gideon showed up and he made it feel possible. Like I could have something of my own and let someone in at the same time. And then my dad walked inand—” My voice broke. “And I thought, ‘Of course. Of course, he ruins this, too.’”
Vivienne leaned forward. “But he didn’t.”
“He’s gone,” I said. The words felt unreal. “For real this time. There’s a part of me that … unclenched when I realized that. And I hate that part. I don’t want to be the kind of person who feels relief at her father’s death.”
“You’re the kind of person who survived him,” Natalie said, voice firm. “That’s not the same thing.”
“And he didn’t ruin anything,” Portia added quietly. “He tried. The people behind him tried. They’ll probably keep trying. That’s what people like that do. But you’re still here. The inn is still there. Gideon is still utterly, stupidly in love with you, in case that wasn’t obvious. Which means everything is … inconvenient. Messy. Complicated. Not ruined.”
“So the question isn’t ‘what did he take,’” Claire said. “It’s ‘what do you claim now that he’s gone?’”
I stared out at the harbor. The water was dark and calm, dotted with pinpricks of light from anchored boats. In the glass, I could see my reflection—pale face, damp hair, borrowed clothes. I looked like a stranger. But my eyes were mine. Green and too wide and maybe, for the first time in a long time, not just afraid.
The words kept coming, rising up from someplace deeper, steadier.
“And I’m moving out of my Chicago condo. I’m quitting my HR job. I’ve been living half in, half out—afraid to commit to anything because I never trusted it to last. But I want a life that feels like mine, not a placeholder I stand inside because it’s safe.”
A breath shuddered out of me.
“I don’t know how I’m going to make enough money from the inn to support myself long-term. I don’t even know if it can makeenough. But I’ll figure something out. I’ll find a way. I’m done choosing safety over living.”
Hallie Mae let out a soft, scandalized laugh.
“Oh, honey,” she said gently, “if you’re with Gideon Dane, you don’t have to worry about money ever again.”
Several of the other women nodded—some knowingly, some with amusement, some with the kind of tired, affectionate exasperation that only came from loving a Dane.
“But,” Natalie added with a shrug, “we get it. The independence matters. Just … know that the financial part? That’s the least of your concerns now.”
Lexi grinned. “Trust us. Being with a Dane comes with a lot of chaos but never a Venmo request.”
Laughter bubbled around the room—warm, soft, pulling some of the tightness out of my chest.
But my voice stayed firm when I answered,
“I want to build something of my own, anyway. Even if I never need the money. Even if it takes years. The inn is mine. And I want to stand on my own feet inside it.”
“Good,” Isabel said, satisfaction in her voice. “That inn deserves someone stubborn.”
“And I claim Gideon,” I added, the words surprising me with how right they felt in my mouth. “Not as … property. God, no. But as … my person. My choice. Whether we’re at the inn or here or on some mountain in Montana.”
“Excellent,” Lexi said. “We approve. Not that you need our approval, but it’s nicer when the sister-in-law council votes yes. Less drama at holiday gatherings.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I don’t know what this looks like,” I said quickly, panic nipping at the edges of my resolve. “I don’t know how to be in a relationship where … there are snipers and secret organizations and surprise half-brothers. I don’t know how to be part of a family like this.”
“None of us did,” Meghan said. “We learned. You will, too.”
“Also, for the record,” Sloane added, “the surprise half-brothers thing was new. We’re all improvising.”
A laugh sputtered out of me, shaky but real.
“So.” Portia clapped her hands once, the sound soft but decisive. “Action items. You go home to your inn when it’s safe. You don’t sell. Dominion Hall reinforces the place so thoroughly a raccoon couldn’t sneak up the driveway without tripping three alarms. And when you’re ready for a party that doesn’t involve bomb vests and long-lost fathers,” Portia went on, eyes gleaming, “I happen to be very good at planning that type of thing.”
Hallie Mae giggled. “She means weddings.”
