Widow’s Daughter Only Had $1 for Her Date—Millionaire Cowboy’s Son at Next Table Watched Her, Until…

Chapter 13

The next morning, Silas found his father in the study of the Montgomery estate. The room was grand, lined with leather-bound books and hunting trophies and the accumulated wealth of generations. Harrison stood at the window, his back to the door, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Father.”

“Silas.” Harrison did not turn around. “I assume you are here to lecture me about your little laundress.”

“She has a name.”

“Names are irrelevant. She is a distraction. I have removed distractions before.”

Something cold settled in Silas’s chest. “What does that mean?”

Harrison turned. His face was calm, but his eyes were ruthless. “I have spoken to the headmaster. Miss Boon’s scholarship will be reviewed. It seems there have been some questions about her eligibility. She may not be able to complete the term.”

Silas felt the blood drain from his face. “You cannot do that.”

“I can do whatever I please.” Harrison took a sip of his whiskey. “I own this town, Silas. I own the academy. I own the bank that holds the loan on her family’s cabin. I own everything. And I will not see my son destroy himself for a washerwoman’s daughter.”

Silas stood very still. The roaring in his ears was the sound of his entire world collapsing.

“Father,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am not going to destroy myself. I am going to save myself.”

“From what?”

“From you.”

Harrison’s face went pale. “What did you say?”

“I said I am not going to be you.” Silas’s voice grew stronger, filling the room. “I am not going to spend my life squeezing people off their land and treating human beings like assets. I am not going to build an empire on the backs of the invisible hands that Kora wrote about. I am going to be something different.”

“Different.” Harrison laughed, a cold, bitter sound that echoed off the high ceilings. “You are a Montgomery. You are what I made you.”

“No.” Silas shook his head. “I am what I choose to be.”

He turned and walked out of the study, leaving his father standing alone in the lamplight, the whiskey glass trembling in his hand.