The boy went up two more floors, and General followed after him. They walked another hallway until they stopped at the third door on the left.
“Mr. Anderson has been working here until her estate is in order.”
The boy tried to open the door, but the brass knob only jiggled slightly with a groan. General watched in pleasure as sweat drizzled down the boy’s forehead. Even though General had the key from the guard’s pocket, he enjoyed seeing the struggle before him. The boy’s breathing became more rapid. General patted the boy on the back and chuckled.
“Steady, lad. I have the key.”
General was hoping the boy would smart off to him so he’d have an excuse to torture him a little more, but the boy was smart, smart enough to know his place—unlike Josephine. He’d give the boy credit for that. The door opened, revealing a large library with a shiny mahogany desk in the corner, surrounded by mountains of book stacks and walls of bookcases.
“Where is his safe?” General asked.
“I-I don’t know, sir,” the boy whimpered. “I’m just a kitchen boy.”
General rolled his eyes. He grabbed the boy’s face and showed him the knife that was already stained by his blood around the edge.
“Don’t even think about trying anything, boy.”
The boy nodded, his legs quivering as he attempted to stand tall. Ignoring the boy's nervousness, General checked the desk and drawers, rifling through their contents. They were filled with pens, useless papers, candies, and personal items like photos.
At last, General opened a cabinet and discovered a large chest with a sturdy lock. With a determined glare, he grabbed his knife and picked at the keyhole. It took a few tries, but finally, he managed to pop it open with a satisfying click. He sorted through the documents until he found what he was looking for—a file with an enveloped letter inside. He snatched the letter, eager to know its contents.
I, Tatiana Marie Callahan, give my estate, assets, fortune, and personal belongings to my beautiful great-niece, Josephine Eleanor Callahan Blythe, as my sole heir.
General paused in shock.Blythe?There had to be a mistake. After all, the woman was senile. She couldn’t have been in her right mind to mistake Wellington with Blythe. He read on.
I ask on my deathbed for my lawyer, Victor Anderson, to defend my niece and protect her child located in Willow Grove, Montana. As I close my eyes in death, this is my final wish. These two are my last living relatives and must be protected and cared for. As for General Marcus Wellington, if he ever wakes from his illness, protect my home. Guard it day and night.
General’s nostrils burned with rising heat. Either the woman was completely out of her mind, or there was more to Josephine’s story. She had a child?That witch! How dare she take my child from me! She couldn’t give me a proper heir, and now she takes what belongs to me. She will pay for her crime! I will watch her suffer! I will have that child of mine!
His father’s weakness drove General Marcus Wellington to become a strong-willed Southerner. His mission was to continue the family line and fortify it for generations. Jared and Loyd had failed, and Josie seemed too weak to bear him a worthy heir. But maybe he was wrong. General smirked to himself. He couldn’t deny it—she had proven herself by taking him down.
Yet she was also naive and foolish. Josie thought she could go far away and escape him, but she was wrong. He’d take what was his and destroy the woman who tried to destroy his life.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
TravisglancedbackatJosie while he built a snowman with the children outside. She stood behind the window, holding Nathan against her shoulder. Josie was a natural mother, and he knew that the day she arrived in Willow Grove. The woman may not have had experience with children, but she had an undeniable gift. This marked the first time she had been out of bed in a week, and as usual, she fought against rest. That was the Josie he knew, and as many times as he wanted her to slow down, she refused.
Travis sighed with a smile, watching Josie pat Nathan’s back. Josie looked up, her eyes meeting his. Sending him a wave, Travis couldn’t help but wave back, natural warmth swimming through him in the biting cold. He couldn’t fathom why her first husband would poison her mind and use his strength to overpower her instead of protecting her. Most of all, he couldn’t understand how any man could hurt someone as lovely and beautiful as her.
When Travis called her a precious treasure days ago, he meant it. Josie was a rare woman, meant to be cherished and valued, and he swore he’d never cast her aside again. All these months, he should have listened, forgiven her, but instead, he only thought about himself—fearing she might come between the memory of what he and Sophie once had. But now that those walls had crumbled, he couldn’t imagine why he’d built them in the first place.
The first time Travis held Nathan in his arms, he realized he could learn to treasure Josie more with each passing day. He wasn’t just a new father; he was a husband, bound by a vow to honor and cherish Josie—and he was determined to do just that. Loving Nathan was the first step in keeping that promise.
However, he knew he had to be patient with Josie. He couldn’t ignore the way his heart fluttered whenever he looked at her, but he would take things one day at a time. When his heart was ready, he would welcome any new feelings that came.
A burst of cold smacked the back of Travis’s head, chilling the nape of his neck and snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned around to find the children giggling, their faces full of mischief. Shaking his head with a smirk, he placed his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes playfully at them.
“Was that a challenge?” Travis scooped a large handful of snow, quickly shaping it into a ball. With a grin, he hurled it towards the children, who shrieked and scattered.
Another snowball came flying in Travis’s direction, narrowly missing him. The kids darted toward a cluster of trees, ducking behind them for cover. Travis followed, launching more snowballs. The icy air burned his nostrils, but in that moment, none of it mattered.
For the first time in a long while, Travis experienced profound joy. His children’s faces were lit with wide smiles, and theirsqueals and laughter echoed through the frosty air. He kept hurling snowballs until Jonas ran to him, arms raised in defeat.
“Don’t throw, Pa! I surrender!”
Travis chuckled as his son reached his side, his nose and cheeks flushed red as tomatoes.
“I’m joinin’ ya!”
