29. Aurora
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Aurora
I woke up to the sound of water lapping against the shore. For a moment, I forgot where I was.
The air was crisp, the scent of pine and damp earth filling my lungs as I blinked against the soft morning light.
Owen’s truck was parked a few feet away, the blanket we’d laid out still tangled around me.
And then there was him … sitting nearby, coffee in hand, watching the lake like he’d been up for hours.
Memories of the night before came rushing back.
The safe. The documents. The truth about Hank’s family.
And Owen, pulling me away from all of it when I didn’t even realize how much I needed to breathe.
But something was different now.
That crushing weight? It wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t suffocating me anymore.
I sat up, stretching my sore limbs. Owen turned, his lips tilting in a small, knowing smile.
“How long have you been up?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.
“A while.” He offered me a cup of coffee from a Thermos, and I took it gratefully. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
I blew on the surface before taking a careful sip, the warmth seeping into me.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“For this. For last night. For knowing I needed to get away before I did.”
His expression softened, but he didn’t say anything. He just reached over and brushed his fingers lightly against mine.
That simple touch grounded me. Reminded me of what I did have.
And of what I was fighting for.
By the time we got back to town, I felt steadier. More sure of myself than I had in days.
The documents we found changed everything.
For weeks, I’d been standing in the middle of a fight I barely understood, swinging blindly against Hank Lawson’s threats and manipulations.
But now?
I had proof. Real proof that Page Turners wasn’t his to take.
That my uncle hadn't left his affairs unsettled—at least not when it came to the ownership of the bookstore.
And that someone— Hank —had tampered with the records to serve his own agenda.
But that wasn’t all.
Hank’s vendetta wasn’t just about the bookstore. It never had been.
This had started decades ago, when his father sabotaged a deal between George Bennett and Walter Grady, trying to ruin them both in the process.
Now, Hank was just trying to finish what his family had started. But I wasn’t going to let him.
Not anymore.
With the documents tucked safely in my bag, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number my uncle had written in his address book.
Thomas Holloway. The lawyer I’d spoken to far too many times.
The call rang twice before a measured voice answered. “Holloway speaking.”
I took a deep breath. “Thomas, it’s Aurora. I need to speak with you. I found some documents that I think you should see.”
A pause. “What kind of documents?”
“The kind that prove Hank Lawson has been lying.”
“Come by my office this afternoon. I'll clear my schedule.”
I exhaled. “Thank you.”
When I hung up, my heart was still hammering, but it wasn’t from fear.
It was from something else.
Determination.
Hank Lawson had spent years trying to rewrite history. Trying to destroy what was left of my uncle’s legacy, trying to make himself the most powerful man in Medford.
But he was about to learn something very important.
I wasn’t going down without a fight.
Thomas shifted through the documents, his brow furrowed as he read in silence, all while my heart hammered loudly against my rib cage.
I was starting to fear that it was trying to break free from my body completely.
I clenched my hands in my lap, waiting.
Finally, he exhaled and leaned back. “This is significant.”
Hope sparked in my chest. “So you think we can use it?”
“Oh, absolutely.” He tapped a finger against the disputed deed. “This proves your uncle had a legal and binding agreement regarding Page Turners. If someone tampered with these records after his death, that's fraud. A serious offense.”
I let out a shaky breath, my pulse quickening. “So what happens next?”
“I'll need to review all the documents carefully. And then we file a motion with the court to challenge Hank Lawson’s claim officially,” he said, handing me back my folder and placing his copy in the first drawer of his desk. “But I think this is solid evidence, Aurora. It strengthens your position considerably.”
I nodded, my fingers gripping the armrests of my chair. For the first time, I actually had a chance.
Thomas studied me for a moment, then softened slightly. “You're doing the right thing. I knew your uncle for years—he would’ve wanted someone to fight for this place.”
Emotion tightened in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “Thank you.”
He gave me a small nod and stood, signaling the meeting was over. “I'll be in touch as soon as possible.”
I rose, shaking his hand before making my way outside.
The air was brisk, but I finally felt like I could breathe again.
It was working. I wasn’t losing Page Turners.
I wasn’t losing my uncle’s legacy.
I wasn’t.
My phone rang, and I frowned, digging it out of my coat pocket.
Daniel Parker.
For a second, relief flooded me. Finally. It had been days since I’d last spoken to them, but maybe they were checking in.
Maybe I could explain.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Aurora.” My boss’s voice was brisk, professional. “I’m calling with an update regarding your position.”
Something in my stomach twisted. “Of course. I?—”
“Your employment with us is terminated.”
The words hit like a punch to the ribs.
I stopped walking. “What?”
“We’ve been following the situation in Medford, and quite frankly, we can’t afford the bad press of an employee involved in a legal dispute. The company has a reputation to uphold.”
My head spun. “But this isn’t… I didn’t…”
“I understand this is disappointing,” he said, voice clipped, “but I also need to be honest with you. Even without the legal issues, it’s clear you won’t be returning any time soon. We need someone reliable, and you’ve been distracted.”
The finality in his tone made my stomach drop.
I had worked years for this job. Sacrificed weekends. Put in extra hours. Jumped through every hoop.
And just like that, it was gone.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Aurora. But our decision is final.”
The line went dead.
I stood there on the sidewalk, phone still clutched in my hand, as the weight of it all came crashing down.
I had lost my job.
Everything I’d built in the city.
There was no future anymore.
I felt like I was falling, and I had no idea how to stop.
I didn’t remember walking to Hank Lawson’s office, shoving open the heavy glass door of Lawson Realty.
Anger burned through me, hot and untamed.
I’d lost my job.
And it was because of him.
Hank Lawson sat behind his oversized mahogany desk, his chair tilted back, the picture of smug confidence.
His office was just like him—expensive but soulless. Dark wood, leather chairs, a gold-plated nameplate that screamed power trip.
He didn’t look surprised to see me. In fact, he smirked.
“Aurora Bennett,” he drawled, tapping a pen against his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I slammed the folder down in front of him, my pulse a roar in my ears. “Drop the act, Hank. I know what you did.”
His gaze flicked lazily to the documents before meeting mine again. “You'll have to be more specific.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “The safe. The real records. The actual deed to Page Turners. We both know George settled his ownership long before he died. You forged those papers, didn’t you? Had someone on the inside make sure they were altered before they were filed. Because you knew you didn’t have a real claim.”
His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.
“I’ve heard you always were a smart girl.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together. “But let’s say, hypothetically, that I did have those records tampered with. What exactly do you plan to do about it?”
I gritted my teeth. “I already met with my lawyer. We’re taking this to court.”
Hank let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, sweetheart. You really think a judge is going to overturn this overnight? Legal battles take months. Years, even. And let me guess, you don’t have that kind of time, do you?”
My stomach tightened.
“I heard about your little job situation,” he went on smoothly. “Unfortunate, really. But what did you expect? No company wants to be associated with a scandal.”
The air in the room felt suffocating.
He planned this. He had known exactly what he was doing.
I clenched my jaw. “This town isn’t going to stand behind you, Hank. Not when the truth comes out.”
“Oh?” His brow lifted. “The truth? Do you think anyone in this town actually cares about your truth?”
I swallowed hard.
He leaned back in his chair, casually adjusting the cuff of his tailored suit. “See, Aurora, you're making this harder than it needs to be. You can fight me. You can go to court. You can drag this out, burn through your savings, watch Page Turners crumble under legal fees. Or you can walk away.”
I glared at him. “Not a chance.”
He sighed dramatically. “That's what I thought. Which is why I took the liberty of preparing a little insurance policy.”
I stilled.
Hank opened a drawer, pulled out a slim envelope, and slid it across the desk toward me.
I hesitated. Then, slowly, I reached for it, my fingers trembling slightly as I lifted the flap and pulled out the contents.
One look, and the blood drained from my face.
My uncle.
A letter, written in his shaky handwriting, dated just weeks before his death.
And an attached document, one that, if real, proved he had considered selling Page Turners after all.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part was the signature at the bottom.
My uncle’s name—the ink slightly smudged, but unmistakable.
I looked up, my heart pounding. “You forged this.”
Hank’s smile was slow, like a predator that had just cornered its prey.
“Prove it.”
I gripped the forged document so tightly my nails nearly pierced the paper.
“You're a liar,” I spat. “My uncle would never have sold Page Turners to you.”
Hank just chuckled, slow and patronizing.
“You sure about that?” He gestured toward the letter. “Because that says otherwise. You see, your uncle wasn’t exactly the upstanding businessman you thought he was.”
My jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare talk about him.”
“Why not?” Hank leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee like we were having a friendly conversation. “He was drowning in debt, Aurora. He ran that store into the ground, and you know it. If he hadn't died, he would’ve had to sell sooner or later.”
I shook my head, refusing to believe it. “He loved that store.”
Hank sighed, like he was dealing with a particularly slow student.
“Love doesn’t pay off loans. Love doesn’t keep the lights on.” His smirk sharpened. “Love doesn’t stop people like me from taking what's owed.”
Rage burned in my chest. “Owed? You think you're owed Page Turners?”
His eyes gleamed. “It was supposed to be mine years ago. My father had a deal, and your uncle broke it. He thought he could screw over the Lawsons and walk away unscathed. But actions have consequences.”
I slammed my hands onto his desk. “You blackmailed him, didn’t you? It was you behind all of that.”
Hank’s expression didn’t even flicker. “Let’s just say I gave him some options.”
My stomach twisted.
Shit.
This wasn’t just about money. This wasn’t just about Page Turners.
This was about power. About control.
My uncle had been stuck in Hank’s grip, backed into a corner, just like I was now.
I pointed a shaking finger at him. “You're a pathetic, power-hungry bastard who’s spent his whole life trying to destroy good people because you have nothing worth holding onto.”
Hank’s jaw twitched. “Careful.”
“Screw careful.” My voice rose, sharp and furious. “You tried to rewrite history, and you know what? You almost got away with it. But I’m not my uncle, and I’m not afraid of you.”
Hank’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his smirk slipping. “You should be.”
Before I could fire back, the office door burst open.
Two large men in security uniforms stormed in, their faces blank and professional.
“Miss Bennett,” one of them said, his deep voice eerily calm. “You need to leave.”
I let out a humorless laugh, grabbing my folder and stepping back from Hank’s desk. “Of course. Throw me out before I cause any more trouble, right?”
Hank just smiled, slow and victorious. “Smart girl.”
I turned toward the door, my blood boiling. But before I stepped out, I twisted back and leveled him with a glare.
“This isn’t over,” I said, voice shaking with fury.
Hank just waved his hand in a lazy, dismissive gesture. “Oh, Aurora. It’s already over.”
The security guards flanked me, guiding me out of the office, through the front lobby, and out onto the street. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing Hank away like the snake he was.