Chapter 4 Grant
Grant
The morning sun gleams off my cart's polished chrome as I arrange the new sundae bar with methodical precision.
The bamboo bowls lack the grandeur of Pierce it's my one chance to breathe.
I glance at Rachel's cart, bustling with activity. Laughter echoes across the beach, parents juggling snow cones while their kids race between carnival games. Meanwhile, my side of the beach feels like a ghost town.
The thought burns in my chest as I decide. With a heavy sigh, I pull out my ledger and finalize the numbers for the day. Closing early stings, but I can't waste any more resources waiting for customers who clearly aren't coming.
As I pack up, I catch Rachel glancing my way, a satisfied little smirk tugging at her lips.
My jaw tightens, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of reacting.
Instead, I load up and drive straight to the council building, my resolve hardening with each mile.
Guilt twists low in my gut. I know exactly what I'm about to do, and who it's going to hurt.
But this is survival. This is what I've been taught: when the odds are stacked against you, you push back. You fight.
The receptionist greets me with a polite smile as I step inside, and I keep my expression neutral.
I may not think like my father, but I know how to act like him when it counts.
The Pierce name still carries weight, even here, and right now, I'm counting on it.
I take a steadying breath, push down the guilt, and step forward.
This is my one shot. I can't afford to lose.
The next morning, when Rachel storms over, anger blazing in her eyes, I force myself to stay calm.
"The council? Really?"
"Rules are rules," I reply, though the words feel hollow. It's true. An impromptu carnival broke half a dozen rules: unapproved structures, overstepping assigned space, and liability issues.
She steps closer, her eyes narrowing. "You really thought you'd win by dragging me down? That's not grit, Pierce. That's desperation. And it's pathetic."
Her words hit harder than I want to admit, cutting through the armor I've spent years perfecting.
She's right. I didn't fight fair. I've been trying to outrun my old self, but today proved I haven't come as far as I thought.
She sees me—really sees me—and that's what stings the most. I came to Magnolia Cove to build something better.
Instead, I've been tearing someone else down.
Someone who's everything I'm not: fearless, real, in ways I can only aspire to.
Her lips twitch into a dangerous smile. "Well, I just had a nice long chat with our head of the council, Dean Markham, about those rules.
Don't worry, Pierce—I've got something even better planned.
And it's completely within regulations." She turns and walks away, hips swaying with deliberate confidence, casting one last barb over her shoulder.
"Grammie Rae's donation is looking more inevitable by the minute. "
I watch her retreating figure, a mix of admiration and alarm settling in my chest. For the first time, I'm questioning whether winning is what I really want.
And for the first time, I wonder if losing—at least to her—might not feel like losing at all.