Page 67 of Burning Daylight

My world tilts on its axis. “So…what, this whole time you’ve beenprotectingme?”

“You’re my flesh and blood. The only one capable of carrying on my legacy. I needed to keep you safe from him until you were old enough to hold your own. This town…” He shakes his head. “It isn’t for the weak. We have to play our cards right or else everything will be stolen from us. It alreadyisbeing stolen from us.”

He usesusso easily, as though I’ve always been a part of him. And if I have, well then, that’s news to me. My teeth clench so tightly, my jaw aches.

I’m not sure if I believe him.

I want to, though.

Badly.

Sniffing, I crack my neck. “And now I’m old enough to hold my own?”

He blinks. “Now…you’re old enough to have the choice.”

His words are arrows dipped in poison, spreading through my veins like branches on a tree. They smack against the old bruise he left when I tried to come here as a nineteen-year-old, begging for him to recognize that just because he wanted me to play dead didn’t mean I actuallywas.

“I don’t understand how things can change, how you go from one end of the spectrum to the other. You didn’t want me here, and now you do? It doesn’t track.”

“Frederick’s been on me for months,” he admits. “Thinks you need to be here to make a statement.”

My brows furrow, trying to place the name. “The man who saw me last time I was here?”

He nods. “My lawyer. He’ll be thrilled you’ve returned just in time for the Founders’ Gala.”

I make a face. “I don’t really have any interest in that.”

“Tough shit. If you’re here, you’ll play the part. Representing the Montgomery name at the biggest annual event in the town isthepart.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, so even though the retort burns in my throat, I swallow it down.

For Brooke.

“I don’t want to live here at the manor with you,” I state.

“That’s fine. I own plenty of property in the HillPoint. We’ll set you up somewhere private.”

“And I don’t want to work at your shitty construction company,” I add. “Or any of the others. I don’t know the first thing about running a business.”

“You won’t need to. Not right now, anyway.” He shrugs. “But one day you’ll be expected to take it over, so get used to the idea.”

“Great,” I say, my tone flat.

“Good.” My father grins. “I’ll expect you to stay the night, at least. Freddy will be here in the morning with the papers.”

“What papers?”

“The ones that will make you a Montgomery again. Officially.”

Frederick Lawrence is an older man,mid-fifties maybe, with graying hair at his temples. He wears checkered argyle socks, shiny brown shoes that click when he walks, and a hat that reminds me of the 1940s gangsters in the movies.

Apparently, he’s my father’s most trusted confidant, despite him also being the attorney for the Calloways.

How the hell Frederick worked that out, I have no clue.

“So, what is it I’m looking at?” I peer at the papers in front of me.

“This is a trust agreement,” Frederick says. “Yours, more specifically. It outlines your shares in the Montgomery Organization, as well as the assets your father has allocated to you. It also has a stipend you’ll receive monthly, with the entirety of funds and shares in the Montgomery Organization being released to you on either your twenty-fifth birthday or should something happen to your father.”