Chapter 41 Donovan
DONOVAN
New Year’s Eve arrives with clear skies and temperatures cold enough to freeze the champagne if we left it outside.
I’m in my office reviewing the last quarterly reports when Dad knocks and walks in without waiting for permission. He’s carrying two glasses of whiskey, which means this conversation is going to be either very good or very bad.
“We need to talk about Volkov,” he says, handing me a glass.
I set down my pen and lean back in my chair. “I figured we’d get to them eventually.”
“Robert was their inside source.” Dad settles into the chair across from my desk. “They were using him to gather intelligence on our operations. Now that he’s gone, they’re going to realize their pipeline dried up.”
“And they’ll either come after us directly or cut their losses and move on.” I sip the whiskey, thinking through scenarios. “What’s our current exposure?”
“Limited. Robert didn’t have access to anything critical, and most of what he knew is outdated by now.” Dad pulls out his phone and slides it across the desk. “Davis sent this an hour ago.”
I scan the message. Volkov’s been quiet since Robert disappeared. No movement toward our operations. No inquiries through their usual channels. Either they’re planning something, or they’ve decided we’re not worth the trouble.
“They’re testing us,” I say. “Waiting to see if we make the first move.”
“That’s what I think too.” Dad takes his phone back. “Question is, do we let them wonder or do we send a message?”
I consider the options. We could strike first, eliminate key players in their organization, and send a clear warning that we’re not to be fucked with.
Or we could arrange a meeting, establish boundaries, and make it clear that Robert was working alone and his connection to us died with his departure.
“What does Kai think?” I ask.
“He thinks we should blow up their primary warehouse and call it a New Year’s gift.” Dad’s mouth quirks. “But he’s on medication and not allowed to make strategic decisions right now.”
“Smart policy.” I finish my whiskey and set the glass down.
“I say we arrange a meeting. Neutral territory. Make it clear that Robert’s betrayal was his own stupidity, and we had no part in whatever intelligence he was feeding them.
Establish boundaries. If they respect those boundaries, we coexist. If they don’t, then we handle it. ”
“That’s what I was thinking too.” Dad stands, pocketing his phone. “I’ll reach out through our mutual contacts. Set something up for mid-January. Give everyone time to cool down after the holidays.”
“Works for me.” I stand and button my suit jacket. “Are we telling Samantha about this?”
“Eventually. But not tonight.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “Tonight’s about celebrating. The business can wait until tomorrow.”
He’s right. We’ve spent weeks dealing with Robert, with Kai’s collapse, with Samantha’s revelation. Tonight should be about looking forward instead of backward.
I finish up the last of my work and head to my room to change. By the time I make it to the main living area, the sun is setting, and someone’s already started a fire in the massive stone fireplace.
Kai’s sprawled on the couch, looking healthier than he did two days ago, color back in his face. He’s drinking sparkling cider from a champagne flute and complaining about it.
“This tastes like sadness,” he announces when I walk in.
“That’s what not drinking feels like,” I tell him.
“It’s terrible. I hate it.”
Samantha emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray of appetizers, and I notice she’s wearing a dark green dress that shows off her growing baby bump. Still barely there, but noticeable.
“Stop complaining about the cider,” she says, setting the tray on the coffee table. “I have to drink it too, and at least you’re alive to complain.”
“Good point.” Kai raises his glass. “To being alive and miserable.”
“That’s the spirit,” Dad says, walking in with an actual bottle of champagne. He pops the cork with practiced ease and pours a glass for me, then one for himself.
We settle into the living room, and for the first time in weeks, the atmosphere feels light. Easy. Like we can finally breathe without waiting for the next disaster.
Dinner is casual. We order in from the resort restaurant instead of having the chef prepare something elaborate. Pizza, pasta, and too much garlic bread. Kai steals food off Samantha’s plate, and she retaliates by taking his last slice of pizza.
“That was mine,” he protests.
“You took my breadstick.”
“That was fair game.”
“How is stealing my food fair game?”
Dad watches them bicker with the kind of amusement that says he’s not going to intervene. I pour myself more champagne and wonder when our family dynamic became this chaotic and domestic at the same time.
After dinner, we move back to the living room. Samantha curls up on the couch with a book, but she’s not really reading. Just holding it while listening to Kai tell some story about a ski trip that went sideways three years ago.
“And then the avalanche warning went off,” Kai’s saying, “and I’m standing there thinking, well, this is how I die.”
“But you didn’t die,” Samantha points out.
“Obviously. I’m sitting here drinking sad cider and telling you about it.”
“What happened?” she asks.
“I skied faster.” He grins. “Outran the avalanche, made it to the lodge, and Dad grounded me for a month.”
“Two months,” Dad corrects from his chair. “And you snuck out after three weeks.”
“Details.”
I check my watch. Eleven forty-five. Fifteen minutes until midnight.
“Should we go outside?” Samantha asks, closing her book. “For the fireworks?”
“It’s freezing,” Kai says.
“We have a balcony.” I stand and offer Samantha my hand. “Come on. We can watch from there.”
She takes my hand, and I help her up. The four of us bundle into coats and head to the balcony that overlooks the valley. The main resort is lit up in the distance, and I can see guests gathering outside for the countdown.
The cold bites immediately, but Samantha doesn’t complain. She leans against the railing between Dad and me while Kai stands on my other side, hands shoved in his pockets.
“One minute,” Dad says, checking his phone.
The resort starts the countdown. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven.
I look at Samantha and realize this is the moment everything changes. Not because of the new year or some arbitrary calendar milestone, but because we’re choosing this. Choosing her. Choosing to build something that doesn’t look like anyone else’s definition of family.
Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen.
“This is it,” Dad says quietly. “Our beginning.”
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Samantha’s hand finds mine. “Not our ending?”
“Never our ending,” I tell her.
Three. Two. One.
Fireworks explode across the valley, gold and silver and red lighting up the night sky while the resort guests cheer in the distance.
Dad turns Samantha toward him first and kisses her. Quick but firm, a promise in that brief contact. Then Kai, who makes her laugh against his mouth, before pulling back with a grin. Then she turns to me.
I cup her face in both hands and kiss her slowly. Thoroughly. Taking my time because we have all the time in the world now.
When I pull back, she’s smiling. “Happy New Year, Donovan.”
“Happy New Year, Samantha.”
We stay on the balcony until the fireworks end, and the cold becomes unbearable. Inside, Kai immediately claims the couch and pulls Samantha down beside him. She laughs and settles against him while Dad pours more champagne.
I sit in the chair across from them and watch the firelight play across their faces. This strange family we’ve built. This woman, who came here to destroy us, ended up saving us instead.
“I’ve been thinking,” Samantha says after a while. “About my mother’s company.”
“Yeah?” Kai’s running his fingers through her hair absently.
“I want to rebuild it. Not the same way it was, but something that honors what she started. Something real.”
“Then we’ll help you do that,” Dad says from his chair.
“I was actually thinking about the market positioning,” she continues, and I see the spark in her eyes that means she’s about to go deep into strategy.
“The original brand focused on affordable professional wear for women, but the market’s shifted.
Now there’s a gap between fast fashion and luxury.
A middle tier that’s sustainable and ethically made but still accessible. ”
I lean forward, interested. “You’d need strong supply chain management. Transparent sourcing. That’s difficult to scale.”
“Not if you partner with existing manufacturers who already have ethical practices in place.” She sits up straighter, fully engaged now. “There’s a factory in North Carolina that specializes in domestic production. Fair wages, sustainable materials, small batch runs that allow for quality control.”
“What about distribution?” I ask. “Direct to consumer or retail partnerships?”
“Both. Start with DTC to build brand loyalty and gather data on customer preferences, then expand into select retail partnerships once the brand has proven demand.”
“You’d need significant capital for that kind of launch,” I point out. “The company assets you inherited won’t cover a full-scale relaunch.”
“I know. But if I start small, prove the concept works, then I could—”
“Can you two shut up about business for one night?” Kai interrupts. “It’s New Year’s Eve. We’re supposed to be celebrating, not talking about supply chain management.”
“Supply chain management is fascinating,” Samantha argues.
“It’s really not.”
“Says the man who organizes his entire life around avoiding responsibility,” I say.
“I have plenty of responsibility. I’m just not boring about it.” Kai looks at Dad. “Back me up here.”
Dad’s watching us with amusement. “I think you’re outnumbered.”
“See?” Samantha grins at Kai. “Even your father agrees with me.”
“Traitor,” Kai mutters, but he’s smiling.
We stay up talking until almost three in the morning. Business and nonsense and everything in between. Kai falls asleep first, head tipped back against the couch. Samantha’s not far behind, curled against him with her hand resting on her stomach.
Dad stands and stretches. “I’m heading to bed. You coming?”
“In a minute.” I’m still watching Samantha sleep. “I want to make sure they’re settled first.”
He nods and leaves without another word.
I sit there in the quiet, listening to the fire crackle and watching the two of them breathe. This is what we’re protecting now. This strange, unconventional family that shouldn’t work but does.
Robert tried to destroy us using Samantha as a weapon.
Instead, she became the thing that made us whole.
I stand and grab a blanket from the chair, draping it over both of them. Kai doesn’t stir. Samantha makes a small sound and shifts closer to him, and I feel that unfamiliar warmth in my chest again.
The one Kai said was love.
Maybe he was right.