The shower was running in the master suite. Perfect.
I moved quickly through the cabin to his home office just down the hall. The door stood open—why wouldn't it be? He had no reason to hide anything from me. He had no idea who I was or what I was really doing here.
The file cabinet was unlocked. I pulled open the top drawer with shaking hands, rifling through folders. Property deeds, contractor invoices, permits, licenses—
There. A folder labeled "Flynn's Lodge - Acquisition."
My hands trembled so badly I could barely open it.
The offer letter sat on top. I scanned it quickly, ice spreading through my chest with every line.
Offered purchase price: $850,000 Estimated market value given property condition: $650,000
He'd offered more. Two hundred thousand dollars more than it was worth.
I kept reading, my vision starting to blur. Found Uncle Danny's response letter, dated six months ago.
Mr. Pruitt - I appreciate your generous offer, but I cannot accept more than is needed to clear my debts and obligations. $680,000 will be sufficient. Please adjust the contract accordingly. - D. Flynn
Gil had tried to give him more money. Uncle Danny had refused.
I flipped to the next page. Handwritten notes in Gil's bold script.
Preserve original fireplace - heart of the building
Honor Flynn name somehow
Find right executive chef
My stomach flipped and I sucked in a breath.
More notes, all focused on the property itself: "Property family-owned for 30+ years," "Reputation built on hospitality and community connection," "Preserve what made the lodge special."
He'd researched Flynn's Lodge's history. He'd tried to preserve what mattered. He'd offered more money than the property was worth and Uncle Danny had refused it.
My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the folder.
This wasn't the story I'd been telling myself for six months.
Everything I'd believed, everything I'd been angry about, everything I'd spent six months seething over...
Wrong. It was all wrong.
He wasn't the heartless developer villain. He'd tried to help Uncle Danny. He'd respected my family's legacy. He'd done everything right.
Which meant I was the villain. I was the one lying and scheming and planning someone's destruction for something that wasn't even his fault.
No. There had to be more. There had to be proof he was still ruthless and cold. Because if he wasn't—
If he wasn't, then I'd been wrong. About everything. And that meant facing the truth I'd been running from: that I couldn't have saved Flynn's Lodge no matter what I did. That Uncle Danny's debt wasn't Gil's fault. That my anger had been aimed at the wrong target all along.
The shower shut off.
I shoved the files back into the cabinet exactly as I'd found them and bolted from the office. Made it to the living room just as Gil emerged from his bedroom, hair damp, wearing clean jeans and a black henley.
"Ruby?" He took one look at my face and his expression shifted. "What's wrong?"
My hands were shaking. I felt lightheaded. We hadn't eaten since that breakfast hours ago.
