Chapter 39 Grant
GRANT
It’s Wednesday morning, the day after Robert left.
I’m in my office, going through the final transfer documents, when Donovan knocks and steps inside without waiting for permission.
“How is she?” I ask, not looking up from the paperwork.
“Quiet. She ate breakfast but barely said two words.” He drops into the chair across from my desk. “Kai’s still in medical, but the doctor says he can be released tomorrow if he follows medication instructions.”
“Good.” I sign the last document and add it to the stack. “Is Samantha in her room?”
“Library. Reading, or pretending to read.” Donovan studies my face. “You’re going to show her the company documents today.”
It’s not a question.
“She deserves to know what’s hers.” I close the folder and stand. “Robert stole it from Mandy, used it to destroy himself, and Samantha should have it back.”
“She’s going to cry,” Donovan says.
“Probably.” I head for the door. “But they’ll be better tears than yesterday’s.”
I find her exactly where Donovan said she’d be, curled up in the oversized leather chair by the library window with a book in her lap that she’s clearly not reading. Her gaze is fixed on the snow outside, distant and unfocused.
She looks up when I enter, and something flickers across her face. Worry, maybe. Like she thinks I’m about to tell her we’ve reconsidered letting her stay.
“Come with me,” I say. “There’s something I need to show you.”
She sets the book aside and follows me down the hallway to my office without asking questions. When we’re inside, I close the door and gesture to the chair in front of my desk.
“Sit.”
She sits, hands folded in her lap, watching me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing.
I pull the thick folder from my desk and set it in front of her. “Open it.”
Her fingers tremble slightly as she flips open the cover.
The first page is a corporate registration document for Price Fashion Ltd.
, her mother’s original company name. Samantha is listed as the sole owner and CEO, the transfer dated yesterday at four thirty in the afternoon, right after Robert signed away his rights.
“I don’t understand,” she says quietly.
“Keep reading.”
She turns the page. Financial statements showing the company’s current holdings.
Real estate in downtown Denver worth three point two million.
Intellectual property rights to several clothing designs that have been licensed to major retailers for the past eight years, generating steady royalty income.
Investment accounts Robert set up using the company as a shell, but never touched because he was too busy bleeding it dry elsewhere.
Her hands stop shaking and grip the pages hard enough to crinkle the edges.
“The total asset value is approximately six point eight million dollars,” I tell her.
“Robert kept the company registered but dormant, using it occasionally for money laundering when he needed a clean paper trail. He never dissolved it completely because that would have drawn attention from creditors looking for assets to seize.”
Samantha looks up at me, eyes wide. “Six point eight million?”
“Give or take a few hundred thousand, depending on current property valuations.” I lean back against my desk. “It’s all yours now. The company, the assets, everything your mother built before Robert got his hands on it.”
“But why?” Her voice cracks. “You could have kept this. Used it to pay off Robert’s debts to your organization or just absorbed it into your holdings. Why give it to me?”
“Because it was never mine to keep.” I cross my arms. “Your mother built that company from nothing. Robert stole it, corrupted it, and used it to pay off his gambling debts. But the foundation was always hers, which means it should be yours.”
Tears spill down her cheeks, and she doesn’t bother wiping them away. “I thought it was gone. I thought the Hales destroyed it, and there was nothing left of what my mother made.”
“Robert lied about that too.” I move around the desk and crouch in front of her chair so we’re eye level.
“Grant Hale Consolidated never touched your mother’s company.
We had no reason to. It wasn’t a competition, it wasn’t interfering with our operations, and your mother never owed us money.
Robert invented that story to manipulate you. ”
“I know that now.” She closes the folder with shaking hands. “But knowing it and feeling it are different things.”
“You can rebuild the company if you want,” I continue. “Honor your mother’s designs, bring back the brand she created. Or you can sell everything and use the money however you see fit. It’s yours to do with as you please.”
“What if I don’t know what I want?” She looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. “What if I’m too scared to touch it because I’ll ruin what she built?”
“Then you take your time figuring it out.” I brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “The company isn’t going anywhere. Neither are you.”
Something shifts in her expression. “You want me to stay.”
It’s not a question, but I answer it anyway. “I want you to stay as long as you’re willing. This isn’t a temporary arrangement anymore, Samantha. You’re carrying our child. You’re part of this family now, whether Robert’s gone or not.”
“I lied to you,” she whispers. “I came here planning to destroy you.”
“And then you fell for us instead.” I cup her face in both hands, making her look at me. “People change. Plans change. What matters is what you choose now, not what Robert convinced you to do months ago.”
She breaks, and I pull her out of the chair and against my chest while she cries. Not the broken sobs from yesterday, but something that sounds more like relief. Like she’s letting go of the weight she’s been carrying for years.
I hold her through it, one hand in her hair, the other wrapped around her waist, and something settles in my chest that I haven’t felt in a long time.
I want this woman in my life permanently. Not because she’s pregnant. Not because my sons want her too. But because when I think about the future, about expanding the lodge and raising a child and running this empire, I can’t picture any of it without her standing beside me.
She’s sharp enough to understand the business. Strong enough to handle the truth about what we do. Brave enough to stay even after everything fell apart.
I want her here. In my bed. In my home. In my life.
For as long as she’ll have us.
Eventually, her tears slow, and she pulls back enough to look up at me. Her eyes are red and swollen, mascara smeared, and she’s never looked more beautiful.
“Thank you,” she says. “For giving me back my mother’s company. For not throwing me out when you learned the truth. For…everything.”
“You don’t need to thank me for doing what’s right.” I wipe the last tear from her cheek. “Your mother deserves to be remembered for what she built, not for how Robert destroyed it. Now you have the chance to make sure that happens.”
She nods and takes a shaky breath. “I think I want to rebuild it. Not right away, but eventually. Something that would make her proud.”
“We’ll help you do that.” I pull her close again, resting my chin on top of her head. “Whatever you need.”
We stand like that for a while, the folder of documents forgotten on my desk, the morning sun streaming through the window and turning the snow outside into diamonds.
Samantha is ours now. Completely. Not because of revenge or manipulation or Robert’s schemes.
Because she chose to stay.
And I’m going to make damn sure she never regrets it.