And I already knew one thing for certain.
If any of them tried to make her feel small, I was going to burn the whole Montgomery empire down from the inside.
Thanksgiving at the country club lasted forty-seven minutes before I started considering flipping tables.
Forty-seven.
A personal record, honestly.
Richard liked the club because it looked like old money even though most of the men inside had made theirs gutting companies and calling it restructuring. White tablecloths. Dark wood. Women in silk. Men in loafers without socks talkingabout markets, tax strategy, and college athletics like they were portfolio risks.
Isa sat beside me with her napkin in her lap and her smile fixed perfectly in place.
Not too bright.
Not too cold.
Texas debutante neutral.
I hated that I knew enough about her now to see how much effort it took.
Richard was at the head of the table, holding court with two men from his foundation board and a woman who kept calling me “the football one” like I was a breed of horse. Everett sat across from us, calm and blonde and smug in a navy jacket. Beckett lounged beside him with his chair angled toward Isa like the rest of us were just furniture in his way.
“So,” one of Richard’s friends said, looking at me over his wineglass. “Master’s degree next year?”
“I’m in my junior year,” I said.
Richard answered before I could add anything else.
“Drew has one more year of eligibility, assuming he chooses to use it. Possibly two with the new rules rumored to include a 5th year based on a Master’s Degree.”
There it was.
Chooses.
Like football was a bad habit I could quit if I had enough discipline.
Isa’s hand slid under the table and found my knee.
One light touch.
Barely there.
I breathed through my nose.
The woman beside Richard smiled. “And will you? Use it?”
I looked at my father.
He looked back.
This was the thing about Richard Montgomery. He didn’t have to raise his voice. He didn’t have to threaten. He just created rooms where everyone understood the correct answer before the question finished breathing.
“I haven’t decided,” I said.
Isa’s fingers tightened on mine beneath the table.
Richard’s smile cooled by one degree. “Drew has options. Stanford has been excellent for him. Discipline. Network. Exposure to people who think beyond the next game.”
