Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I ndie
The screen glows in front of me as my father’s voice grates like nails on glass. He sits behind the massive oak desk in his study, flanked by leather-bound books that have probably never been opened. His features are sharp, as always—perfectly groomed salt-and-pepper hair, piercing eyes that have seen too many boardroom battles, and a mouth that never smiles without an agenda.
“You’ve embarrassed this family beyond words, Indie,” he says, his voice low but brimming with restrained fury. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to us? To Chad? The Van Allens and Burtons were supposed to unite. The two most influential families in this town and now you’ve ruined everything.”
I sit on the porch swing at Aunt Betty’s, the sun warm on my face, but his words make me shiver. My fingers tighten around my phone. “Ruined everything? Dad, I walked away from a man who hit me. Who controlled me. How is that ruining anything?”
His laugh is cold, a sharp, humorless bark. “Marriage isn’t about love, Indie. It’s about power. Legacy. Chad and you were supposed to be the cornerstone of something bigger than yourselves.”
I grind my teeth, trying to keep my voice steady. “I don’t care about power or legacy. I care about being happy. About building a meaningful life–not spending my life with someone who makes me feel small.”
“Happy?” he scoffs. “You sound like a child. Do you think your mother and I got married for happiness? For love?”
In the background, I catch a glimpse of my mother. She’s perched on the edge of a chair, wrapped in a pristine Chanel suit, her eyes downcast and shadowed. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move—just sits there like a porcelain doll, fragile and lifeless.
“Of course not,” my father continues. “We married for strategy. And look where it got us. Everything you’ve ever wanted—private schools, European vacations, summers in Gstaad, Christmases in Whistler. Do you think any of that came from some Disney fairy tale notion of love?”
My chest tightens, anger bubbling under the surface. “And what did it cost, Dad? Mom? She looks like she’s barely alive.”
His face hardens, the sharp planes of his cheekbones casting deep shadows. “Your mother has everything she could ever want. She understands her role. You could’ve had the same, but instead, you’ve made us a laughingstock.”
My voice rises, my control slipping. “I don’t want that life, and I won’t apologize for leaving it behind. I’d rather be alone than chained to someone like Chad.”
“You’re being selfish,” he snaps. “This scandal is going to cost us—financially, socially. The tabloids will eat it up. Do you really want to see this family crumble because you couldn’t play your part?”
I feel the tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “I want a life that’s mine, Dad. Not one you built to keep up appearances.”
“You’re being foolish,” he growls. “And mark my words, Indie—you’ll regret this.”
The screen goes black as he hangs up, and I let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words still heavy on my chest.
Aunt Betty steps out onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. Her silver curls are pinned back, her sharp eyes softening as she takes me in. “Your dad giving you grief again?”
I nod, swiping at my face. “He doesn’t understand, Aunt Betty. He never will.”
Betty lowers herself into the rocking chair beside me, her gaze thoughtful. “Your dad’s always been like that–even as a kid. Hard. Bossy. Doesn’t know how to connect with people, not really.”
I laugh bitterly. “That’s an understatement.”
She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You can’t let him dictate your life, sweetheart. We all get one shot at this. One chance to love and be loved. And when it’s over, all the money, the power, the legacies—none of it matters. The only thing that stays with you is the love you gave and the love you let yourself feel.”
Her words wrap around me, warm and grounding, but they also bring the tears I’ve been holding back. I wipe at my face, sniffing. “I just need some air, I think I’ll go for a walk.”
Betty pats my hand. “Take all the time you need, darlin’. But don’t let him take the spark out of you.”
The crisp mountain air clears my head as I walk aimlessly down the dirt road that leads out of town a while later. The sun is dipping lower, casting golden light over the pines. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking when I hear the faint sound of a hammer hitting metal. I follow the noise, my feet carrying me toward King’s barn.