Chapter 2

The world tilted. Britt's voice, Dylan's laughter, echoed in my head, a cruel soundtrack to my own stupidity. For years, I' d carried a torch for her, remembering the good times, excusing the bad. I' d paid for dinners, gifts, even helped her family out when they were in a bind, all because I thought there was something real there, something worth fighting for. Now, I saw it all, the calculated smiles, the feigned affection. It was all a lie.

A fire lit inside me, burning away the daze of sorrow. They thought I was weak, a puppet. They were about to find out how wrong they were.

I strode to my father' s desk, the heavy oak solid beneath my hands. Mr. Thompson, our ranch foreman, a man who' d been more of a father to me these past few years than anyone, found me there.

His weathered face was etched with concern. "Ethan? You alright, son?"

"Mr. Thompson," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "My grandfather, he had a pact with the Hayes family in California, a marriage agreement."

Mr. Thompson raised an eyebrow. "Old Man Miller and old Mr. Hayes, yes. Haven't heard that spoken of in decades. Thought it was just an old story."

"It's real," I said. "And it's time to activate it. Get me everything you can on Hayes AgriTech and Avery Hayes."

He nodded slowly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Consider it done, Ethan."

The next day, I was in Dallas for a meeting my father had scheduled months ago. As I left the lawyer' s office, I saw them, Britt and Dylan, swanning out of a ridiculously expensive boutique. Britt was holding a ludicrously small, jewel-encrusted handbag, Dylan grinning like he' d won the lottery.

Britt spotted me, her face lighting up with that fake, dazzling smile. "Ethan! Darling! Look what Dylan treated me to!" She held up the purse.

Dylan puffed his chest out. "Just a little something for my favorite girl."

Then the sales assistant hurried out. "Excuse me, Mr. Miller? Mr. Dylan Miller? The card was declined for this purchase."

Dylan' s face went from smug to panicked in a second. He fumbled for another card.

Britt turned to me, pouting prettily. "Oh, Ethan, darling, could you? Just this once? My card is back at the hotel."

This was it. The casual entitlement, the expectation that I' d just cough up. The old Ethan might have. The new Ethan? Not a chance.

I looked her straight in the eye. "No, Britt, I can' t."

Her smile faltered. "What?"

"And Dylan," I said, turning to my cousin, whose face was now a mottled red. "That credit line you' ve been enjoying? The one linked to the Miller Ranch account? It' s closed. Effective immediately."

"You can't do that!" Dylan spluttered.

"I just did," I said, my voice calm. "And Britt, about those 'loans' you've taken from me over the years? I' ll have my lawyer send you an itemized bill. I expect full repayment."

Britt stared at me, her mouth agape. The pretty pout was gone, replaced by a flash of fury. "Ethan Miller, how dare you!"

"I dare because it' s my money, Britt," I said, turning to walk away. "And you' re not getting another cent."

The shock on their faces was almost worth the years of foolishness on my part. Almost.