Page 12

Bree

The dress feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.

I check my reflection for the hundredth time, but it's not the emerald silk that's the problem. It's the empty bathroom doorway behind me. No Ken hogging the mirror, no terrible dad jokes while he fixes his tie, no playful arguments about counter space.

His side of the closet is bare. Even his scent is gone.

The envelope isn't in the trash—I checked. Twice. Not that it matters. Paper can't fix what I broke.

A knock startles me. Probably Clara with more cookies I won't eat.

But when I open the door, my heart stops.

Ken fills the doorway in a perfectly fitted tux, his glasses catching the light. He looks devastating. And completely untouchable.

"Hi." His voice is carefully neutral.

"Hi." Mine isn't.

"Ready? We should arrive together."

I blink at him. "You're still—"

"I ’ve told you, I don't quit. And I won't leave Ashton hanging." He adjusts his cuffs, a gesture so attractive it hurts. "Shall we?"

The walk to the ballroom is silent. No hand at my back, no whispered jokes, no stolen touches. Just the echo of our footsteps and the weight of everything unsaid.

The ballroom sparkles with old money and new tension. Matthews holds court near the bar, practically glowing with confidence. When he spots us, his smile turns predatory.

"Branch." He raises his glass. "Thought about my offer?"

"Hard pass." Ken's voice could freeze hell.

“What offer?” But Ken’s already steering us away.

"Later," he says. "We don't want to miss the speech."

Dad takes the podium, and my stomach clenches. This is it. The moment that decides everything.

Ken is sitting beside me, close but not touching. Last night, he would have held my hand. Would have whispered something ridiculous to make me laugh. Would have been mine .

"As many of you know," Dad begins, "I've been considering retirement."

The room holds its breath. Matthews straightens his tie.

"This decision wasn't easy. We had several excellent candidates."

Matthews shifts in his chair, like he’s actually getting ready to move toward the stage. Subtle as a heart attack.

"Vincent Matthews, for example—" Dad gestures, and applause breaks out. Matthews waves, already victorious. "—has shown tremendous drive and business acumen."

My chest tightens. This is it. I've lost everything.

"However," Dad continues, "recent events have made me reconsider many things. Including what this company truly needs."

“My daughter, Brianna—" Dad's eyes find me. "Has shown remarkable vision. Her water treatment initiative, her commitment to innovation while honoring our legacy..."

Ken shifts besi de me. Still not touching, but I feel his presence like electricity.

"But more importantly," Dad continues, "she's shown me something I'd forgotten. Something my father taught me long ago, when he started this company."

Matthews' smile starts to slip.

"That success isn't just about profit margins. It's about making a difference. About leaving things better than we found them."

My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe.

"Which is why I've decided..." Dad pauses, and the silence stretches like crystal about to shatter. "That the next CEO of Carmichael Chemicals will be..."

I grab Ken's hand without thinking. He lets me.

"...me."

Wait. What?

"Because watching Brianna's passion this week, her dedication to what matters—it reminded me why I love this job. Why I'm not ready to leave it."

The room erupts in applause. Matthews looks like he's swallowed poison.

"And while I'm staying on as CEO," Dad continues, "I am creating a new position. Chief Innovation Officer, responsible for the programs that will carry us into the future."

He looks directly at me. "Brianna? Would you join me up here?"

I can't move.

"Go," Ken whispers, and his hand squeezes mine before letting go. "This is yours. "

My legs carry me somehow. The lights are too bright, the applause too loud. Dad hugs me, and for once, I don't care about showing emotion in public.

"The water treatment program?" I whisper.

"Full funding," he murmurs back. "And wait until you see the budget for R&D."

When I turn to face the crowd, my eyes find Ken automatically. He's watching me with something that looks like pride. Like maybe—

But then his expression shutters, and he's moving toward the exit.

No. Not again.

"Excuse me," I tell Dad, already moving. "I need to—"

"Go," he says softly. "Some things matter more than speeches."

I catch Ken in the hallway. "Wait."

He stops but doesn't turn. "Congratulations."

"That's it? You're just leaving?"

"My job's done. You got what you wanted."

"That's not—" I move in front of him. "Look at me."

He does, and the raw hurt in his eyes steals my breath.

"I didn't want the title," I say. "I wanted to make a difference. To show him I was more than just his daughter who needed a husband."

"And now you have."

"But I lost something more important." My voice cracks. "I lost you."

"You never had me." His jaw tightens. "Remember? I was just a transaction."

"No. I mean, yes, that's what I tried to make it, but—"

"But what? "

"But it wasn't true. None of it was true." I step closer. "You weren't for sale. You never were. I just... I got scared."

"Of what?"

"Of feeling something real. Of wanting someone who wanted me, not my money or my name or my company." I force myself to hold his gaze. "Of falling in love with someone I didn't deserve."

He goes very still. "What did you just say?"

"I'm in love with you." The words come out steady despite my racing heart.

His jaw tics. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Just stares like the words sucker-punched him.

"And I know I ruined everything, but I need you to know that what I did—trying to buy you—it wasn't because I thought you were for sale. It was because I was terrified of losing you when you realized I wasn't worth staying for."

His expression doesn't change. "And now?"

"Now I know I was wrong. About everything. About you." I take another step closer. "The way you defended my project. How you make me laugh. How you see me—really see me. The way you play with those kids at the hospital not because it looks good, but because you care."

Still nothing.

"Say something. Please."

"You got your promotion without playing their game," he says finally. "Without compromising who you are."

"Because of you. Because you showed me I was worth more than that."

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope. For a horrible moment, I think it's my check.

It's not.

"Matthews offered me two million dollars to be his PR guy after he became CEO." He hands me the envelope. "Plus a promise to bury my past. All I had to do was support his 'modernization' plans."

“I can’t believe th is. I mean—”

"He was going to gut R&D," Ken continues. "Shut down your program. Cut safety protocols to boost profits. He had it all planned."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Because you deserve to know what you were fighting. And because—" His voice roughens. "Because I need you to understand something."

"What?"

"That night at the club? When you left money on my nightstand?

" His eyes hold mine. "It hurt. But eventually I’ve understood.

You thought that's what I wanted, what I was.

But this morning? When you tried to buy me again?

" He shakes his head. "That broke something in me.

Because I thought you knew me. The real me. "

"I do. I just forgot for a moment. Because it's easier to believe someone wants your money than to believe they might actually—"

"Want you?" His hand comes up to cup my cheek. "Bree, I've wanted you since that first night. Even after you left. Even after you broke my heart. Even when I was trying to hate you."

My breath catches. "You don't hate me?"

"I tried. But how could I hate the woman who made me believe in something bigger than survival?"

He pauses, gaze locked on mine. “Princess, I’ve been paid to take my clothes off before, but I’ve only ever stripped my heart bare for you.”