Page 69 of Cherished Lands

"By what? Destroying people's livelihoods?" The words burned in my throat. "That's not protection, that's control."

Color rose in Dad's cheeks. I fought the urge to cringe away as I registered the danger signal.

"Tessa." Mom's voice cracked on my name.

I looked at her then, really looked. The perfect makeup couldn't hide the shadows under her eyes, the slight downturn of her mouth. How had I never noticed before?

"You don't have to do this," I said, not sure if I was talking to Dad or Mom anymore.

"Actually, I do." Dad straightened his silk tie. "The non-compete agreement is ironclad. Your 'marriage'changesnothing. You have twenty-four hours to withdraw your investment, or I start dismantling your new family's business piece by piece. Choose wisely,Mrs. Everton."

The way he said my new name—like it was something dirty and shameful—made my chest tighten. But it was Mom's barely perceptible wince that broke my heart.

"And just remember," Dad said, "you'll always be a Belmonte."

"We're done here." Elliot's chair scraped back as he stood, still holding my hand. "Hank?"

Our lawyer nodded and began gathering his papers. "We'll be in touch."

As we headed for the door, I glanced back one last time. Dad was already on his phone, dismissing us entirely. But Mom... Mom watched me go, her perfect posture crumbling at the edges.

And for the first time in my life, I wondered if she was as trapped as I had been.

The January windwhipped through the parking garage, but I barely felt it. My mind was stuck on that tiny flinch, that tremor, the little cracks in my mother's perfect mask.

"Tessa," Elliot coaxed. "Talk to me."

I realized I was still gripping his hand, probably hard enough to hurt. But when I tried to let go, he held on tighter.

When I eventually answered, my voice sounded strange and hollow. "I never saw it before. Or maybe I didn't want to see it."

"See what?"

"The way she..." I swallowed. "The way we both..."

My throat closed up. Elliot tugged me closer, tucking me against his chest. His familiar scent—cedar and citrus andhome—made my eyes burn.

"He's going to destroy your family's orchard," I mumbled. "Because of me."

"Hey." Elliot caught my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Not because of you. Because he's losing control. There's a difference."

"But—"

"Let him try. We've been through worse."

I thought of my mother's rigid posture, her silent submission. How many years had she been hiding? How many times had I missed the signs because I was too busy planning my own escape?

"She's trapped. Just like I was. But she never got out."

Elliot wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. "You did get out. And you're not going back."

"Promise?" I hated how small my voice sounded.

"Promise. You're an Everton now. And Evertons protect their own."

Chapter Twenty-Five

ELLIOT