Let’s be clear: I have absolutely no desire to sign the deal as is. This NDA isn’t one I’d offer to my clients, let alone my worst enemy. It’s a vile clause, and I won’t allow it to stand unless it’s fixed on my terms.
I know I’ve been on this ranch a while now, but once upon a time, I was a suit. I know my way around contracts, NDAs, and parcels worth millions, and I also know Roger has no idea of that.
He’s so focused on enriching himself that he never bothered to check who he was actually working with.
Truthfully, men like him see a woman and assume she knows less than they do—that we’re easily swindled. He has another thing coming. I read the entire deal, every clause, and it’s utter garbage.
I walk into the Horizon Group headquarters with my head held high. I’m guided into a conference room where Roger waits, along with another man—older but equally slimy-looking.
It’s easy to tell Roger isn’t thrilled to have him in the meeting, but given how long this sale has been dragging on, my guess is the higher-ups are getting frustrated with him.
Inside, both men stand to greet me.
“Miss Carter, this is Jeremy Bourgh. He’s one of our senior executives here at Horizon,” Roger explains as I shake Jeremy’s hand.
“He’ll be sitting in today to ease any concerns you may have.”
Ease. Right. This isn’t about comfort—not in the slightest. It’s about intimidation. Two men against one woman isn’t exactly even—and they know it.
“Pleased to meet you,” he says as we take our seats. Jeremy grabs the documents—the ones I’ve already read thoroughly—and slides them toward me, pen included, as if I’d sign them as is.
“I’m not signing it like this,” I reply, looking between their shocked expressions.
“These terms are not only grossly immoral, but illegal.” I take out my copy and turn it toward them, tapping the highlighted sections.
“Here, for example, where it states,‘upon signing, you are hereby seizing rights to any and all property on the land in question.’That implies the moment the dotted line is signed, everything becomes yours before the ink even dries. Is that correct?” I ask, and they glance at each other uneasily.
Jeremy clears his throat. “That would be correct.”
“Except that’s illegal.” I pull out a printed document and place it on the table between us. “Texas law requires up to thirty days following a land transfer. That means you must allow occupants time to vacate the premises.” I meet their eyes.
“Unless Horizon doesn’t like playing by the rules.” They sigh deeply, and suddenly I can feel their nerves tightening the room.
“We can alter this deal and the clause for you,” Jeremy finally says, and I smile a fake grin in his direction. He looks to Roger. “Get this reworked, please,” he adds as Roger nods, stepping out of the conference room to leave me with Jeremy.
“We’ll reach out to you with the finalized details,” he adds as I get up, not even bothering to shake his hand.
The likelihood I’ll sign even the revised version is slim, not because it won’t be better—it will be. They’ll make it more profitable, I’m sure. But signing the ranch away to a group that’s done nothing but cause problems, only to let them get what they want anyway, isn’t justice.
So why come all this way, then? Because I needed distance—and clarity.
The stipulations in the will never said I couldn’t leave to clear my head and come back once I’d made my decision.They only stated I couldn’t leave with the intent of never returning.
When I step into my apartment, I drop onto the couch with a huff. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed being in my own space. Five and a half months away, and everything is still neatly in its place.
The only reason I kept my rent active was because I knew there was a chance I’d come back—long before I knew Gage, or whatever this was between us.
And this is why I needed to leave Bell River and reset. Figuring out what to do now feels even harder than it did when I was still stuck on the ranch. The difference is that Gage was always there, making me melt and lose my resolve, but that can’t always be the case.
I have to make this decision for me. At the same time, how can I do that when the man doesn’t even want to fight for anything anymore?
I groan, sighing deeply. This isn’t going anywhere, especially not on my own. I reach for my phone and dial Mandy, my best friend. Whenever I’ve had an issue, I’ve always known I could go to her.
I called her a couple of times while I was on the ranch, but I never dug too deep about Gage. I didn’t want to—mostly because I didn’t want to sound stupid.
Things between us were toxic in the beginning, and now we’re back in this hot-and-cold space where I feel foolish for even considering reconciliation.
I need to know I’m not insane for wanting to blow up my life over this.
