“How have you been?” I asked, stealing a glance at Sylvie as she navigated around a particularly unruly section of hedge.
She was kind enough to indulge the question, though I could see the wariness in her eyes. “Busy. Really busy. The Christmas Eve party is in a couple of days. Just been working to help manage guests and decorating every surface that doesn’t move.”
“Sounds exhausting,” I said.
“It is,” she admitted. “But good exhausting. The kind where you fall into bed knowing you’ve made people happy.” She paused, then looked at me directly. “Okay, enough small talk. Cut to the chase, Kent. Why are you really back? I have a million things to do and really don’t want to waste time on whatever this is or isn’t.”
Sylvie was direct. No games, no corporate politeness, just honest communication. It was one of the things I’d fallen for from the very beginning.
I took a breath, knowing that what I was about to say would either change everything or end any chance I had of earning her trust back.
“I came to make things right,” I said. “I have another offer I think you and your family should look at.”
She stopped walking and stared at me. The color drained from her face and she took a step back, distancing herself from me. That was expected.
“No,” she said, panic in her voice. “No more offers. No more tricks. No more deals. We’ve accepted our fate. I don’t need to hear anything else from you. I thought you wanted to say something aboutus. I’m not mixing us with my family’s business. That doesn’t lead anywhere good.”
“Sylvie, just hear me out.”
“I can’t do this again,” she continued, her words coming faster now. “I can’t get my family’s hopes up all over again just to have it come crashing back down. And I can’t—I won’t—look like a fool for trusting you again.”
The pain in her voice cut through me. I’d done this to her. I’d taken someone who believed in the best of people and made her afraid to hope.
“I understand that,” I said carefully. “I understand why you would feel that way. I get it and I don’t blame you. But please, just give me five minutes to explain what I’m proposing.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, a defensive gesture that made her look smaller and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. It killed me to know I did that to her.
“Why should I give you even two seconds? I don’t owe you anything. I don’t even know why I’m out here with you. Just go home, Kent. We’re not selling to you. We’re happier to see this place fall apart than to see it be taken to the ground. Go find somewhere else to destroy.”
“I’m not here to destroy anything,” I said.
She snorted. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”
“This isn’t coming from Bancroft Industries,” I blurted out. “This is coming from me. Personally. From my own wealth, my own resources. And it’s not about acquisition or extraction or corporate profits. It’s about investment in something I believe in.”
Her expression shifted slightly, curiosity warring with skepticism. “What kind of investment?”
“A hospitality venture,” I said, the words tumbling out in my eagerness to make her understand. “I want to help you restore this place to its former glory. Bring in the right marketing team, upgrade facilities while preserving the character, focus on the family-friendly and connected community vibes that make this place special.”
I gestured around us, taking in the snow-covered hedges and the warm lights glowing from the lodge windows.
“I want to help you bring this place back to life. Not change it into something else but help it become the best possible version of what it already is.”
Sylvie stared at me, her green eyes searching my face like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “Why?”
“Because I believe in it,” I said simply. “More than that, I believe in you. And if this place could get under my skin the way it has, if it could change someone as cynical and profit-focused as me, then it will definitely get under other people’s skin too.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t,” she said. “Or was that just another lie?”
I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to talk down to her or brag about my wealth, but no matter how I laid it out, that was exactly what it was going to sound like.
“Look,” I said, trying to figure out how to explain it without sounding like a complete ass. “I don’t have access to the billions that Bancroft Industries has in assets. That’s corporate money, board money, shareholder money. But I do have my own portfolio, my own investments. I can free up some stuff, move money around, liquidate some holdings.”
She crossed her arms tighter. “Get to the point. How much are we talking about?”
“Enough,” I said. “Several million. Maybe more if I need to get creative with some of my real estate holdings.”
“Several million,” she repeated flatly. “Just like that. You can just move several million dollars around like it’s pocket change.”
