Page 58 of Best Kept Vows

“Dad,”—I set my wine glass down—“are you sure?”

He met my gaze unwaveringly. “Money’s…running out.”

I knew that.

Dad sighed, rubbing a trembling hand over his mouth. “Investments can only…go so far.”

Over the years, my father had built up stocks, real estate holdings, and a portfolio that had nothing to do with Boone Metals, which was supposed to keep the family secure.

“How bad is it?” I asked carefully.

Dad looked away, his lips pressing together. “Okay…your mother’s allowance…is gonna shrink soon.”

I let out a humorless laugh. Dolly Boone finally forced to budget? The world really was ending.

Dad took another slow sip of wine. “Selling’s…only way. Won’t get…much. Debt’s high.”

I swallowed hard. He was right. By the time we paid off outstanding loans, backdated vendor payments, and gave severance for employees who’d be out of a job, there wouldn’t be much left. Boone Metals wasn’t worth what it had been in its heyday. If we’d sold ten years ago, my family would have walked away rich. Now? It would be a salvage operation at best.

“I didn’t…give it to you…all those years ago,” Dad said, his voice rough. “Because I…didn’t want you to know.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” All these years, I’d assumed he didn’t believe in me—only to realize now that it was his own insecurities, his fear of failure, that had shaped his decisions and ultimately mine.

“Pride.”

There was that word again, which had ruined both of us. Dad had kept Boone Metals out of pride, and so had I, fighting for a legacy that no one wanted—not Tristan, not Ada, and, apparently, not even my father. And for what? To prove I was better than my father? In the end, all I had was a big, empty house, a wife who had left, and a company that was sucking the life out of me.

“Nigel has…authority,” Dad said again. “Talk to him.”

I nodded, my mind already spinning with the next steps. Selling wasn’t as easy as calling up a buyer. It would take months—maybe a year—of negotiations, clearing debt, finding the right deal. But it was inevitable now. There was no saving Boone Metals. All I could do was make sure what was left could sustain the family.

Dad reached for his glass, fingers trembling slightly, and I steadied it for him. He let out a slow breath.

“You’re…young. Live!” he muttered. “Don’t waste…your life.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I don’t plan to.”

He gave me a tired smirk. “Good. Took you…long enough.”

I huffed out a weak laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, well. Pride seems to run in the family.”

Dad closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted, but when he opened them again, they were clear and focused. “Son…it’s time.”

A sudden prick of tears stung my eyes. He wasn’t just saying it was time for bed—he was telling me it was time to sell the company, time for him to leave this world, and time for me to finally start living my life.

“Yeah, Dad. It’s time,” I agreed.

CHAPTER 21

Ophelia

Iliked to cook, but it was disheartening to do it just for myself—what I often ended up doing on the nights Sebastian worked late and I ate alone.

If I had to dine solo, I figured someone else might as well do the cooking. A Yelp search pointed me to Collins Quarter at Forsyth, just down the street, known for its Australian-inspired cuisine with a Southern twist.

When I stepped into the restaurant, I was instantly wrapped in the warm glow of low-hanging Edison bulbs and the soft flicker of candlelight dancing across polished wooden tables. Laughter and friendly voices surrounded me, a warm energy that urged me toward the hostess stand.

I got a seat at the bar, which made me not feel quite so lonely.