Chapter 66
KENT
It was the call I was hoping to avoid, but after my visit to town today, I realized I was proud of what I had done.
I wanted my father to celebrate with me.
If he couldn’t do that, I supposed that was his problem.
He would respect me more if I told him rather than him finding out through a lawyer or the grapevine in general.
For some reason, I still wanted my father’s acceptance and respect. I wasn’t sure if it was because I saw the relationship between Brom and Harold and that’s what I wanted or if it was me trying to stick it to him. Show him I could make shit happen.
It took me a good thirty seconds before I was able to push the button and make the call.
“Kent?” he answered, and just by the tone of his voice, I knew.
“Dad,” I said, trying to keep my own voice steady. “I assume you’ve heard about the Northwood deal.”
“Heard about it?” His laugh was sharp and humorless.
“I had three different lawyers call me this afternoon asking why my son had committed significant personal assets to a property acquisition without consulting Bancroft Industries. Imagine my surprise when I learned that not only had you gone over my head, but you’d completely undermined months of careful planning. ”
I started pacing the length of the porch. It was cold but I barely noticed the temperature. I felt invincible. I was riding the high of closing the deal and being with Sylvie and finding my own footing. I just wanted him to acknowledge the move.
“I saw a chance to do the right thing, and I took it,” I said.
“The right thing?” Dad’s voice rose slightly, though he maintained that terrifying control he was famous for. “This is not how Bancrofts do business, Kent. It’s messy. It’s unprofessional. And it’s betrayal. People are going to question me and your brothers now.”
“Why?” I asked.
“We have always been a united front. We’ve always done deals that make everyone very happy and very rich. You cut out a lot of people.”
I refused to back down. “I tried to get you to change your approach first. I presented you with alternatives that would have preserved what this place means to the people who built it. When that didn’t work, I took matters into my own hands.
You’ve never been here. You have no idea what you were about to destroy.
If you would have just come up here and talked to people. ”
“You went behind my back.”
“I made a business decision using my own resources,” I interrupted, surprising myself with the steel in my voice. “I won’t apologize for that, because I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
The silence that followed was deafening. I waited. I didn’t know what to say to make him understand. To make him see things from my point of view.
“You’re missing sight of the big picture, son. All because of a pretty girl.”
Something cold and dangerous coiled in my chest. I felt like she was mine to protect. I didn’t have to protect her from my father, but I was still not about to let him insult her by suggesting her value was limited to her looks. “This has nothing to do with her.”
“She’s a nobody, Kent.” The dismissive way he said it made my hands clench into fists.
“There are millions of women out there who have more to offer than some small-town girl who grew up on a tree farm. Women with education, breeding, connections that could benefit your career instead of derailing it.”
Rage flooded through me. For a moment, I could barely speak through the fury that was choking me. This was exactly the kind of toxic thinking that had driven Austin away, and suddenly I understood my brother’s decision in a way I never had before.
What kinds of things had my father said to Austin? What poisonous words about the choices Austin had made and the people he cared about had finally pushed him to cut ties with the family entirely?
My dad could be very humble. Very accepting. But he could also be a snobby prick. He had his own ideas about who his sons should be with. Although I couldn’t remember a time when he had ever talked about any of my sisters-in-law the way he was talking about Sylvie.
And that’s what pissed me off. That’s what sent me over the edge. I drew a line in the sand, and I was daring the old man to cross the damn thing.
“I’ve fallen in love with that nobody,” I said, my voice shaking with barely controlled anger. “And I won’t tolerate you speaking about her like that. Not now, not ever.”
The silence stretched between us. It crackled with tension and disappointment and the kind of fundamental disagreement that changes everything between two people.
I felt our relationship, what was left of it, fizzle in that moment. I was sad, but it wouldn’t devastate me. I had Sylvie. Brom. Stacy. Harold. If he wanted to disown me, I would survive.
“You’re still welcome at the estate for Christmas,” Dad finally said.
His voice was calm. Clinical. Devoid of all emotion.
“Your room will be ready, as always. But I want you to understand something, Kent. If you continue down this path, if you insist on prioritizing sentiment over sense, there will be consequences. You won’t be able to access your trust fund as of January first.”
The threat landed exactly as he intended it to.
My trust fund wasn’t just money. It was my safety net.
I always believed my inheritance was my birthright as a Bancroft.
It had been my identity for as long as I could remember.
The trust fund was kind of like payment for putting up with all the bullshit that went along with being a Bancroft.
Because honestly, sometimes it was hard.
Yes, there were a lot of perks, but there could be some serious downsides as well.
And now it was gone.
But looking out at the Christmas lights twinkling through the tree farm, thinking about Sylvie’s face when her father had accepted my offer and remembering the way Harold had called me “son” across the dinner table, I found I didn’t care about the money as much as I should have.
He thought he landed a blow that would make me change my mind.
I took a deep breath. “I won’t be there,” I said quietly.
“Kent—”
“I won’t be there for Christmas,” I repeated, louder this time. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The line went dead.
I stood there holding my phone, staring out at the winter landscape that had somehow become more home to me than the Manhattan penthouse I’d lived in for years. My hands were shaking, though whether from cold or adrenaline or grief, I couldn’t say.
I turned to look at Sylvie, who had stepped out on the porch. She met my gaze, and she must have seen my emotions.
She walked straight into my arms.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Everything okay?”
I tried to smile, tried to project the kind of confidence that would keep her from worrying, but it was just not going to happen. “I’m fine.”
She didn’t believe me—I could see it in her eyes—but she didn’t push. Her arms wrapped around my waist and her head rested against my chest. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, her voice muffled against my coat.
I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders at her touch. “You’re already doing it,” I said honestly.
We stood like that for a few minutes. It was exactly what I needed. I needed her arms around me. Her warmth flooded through me while I processed what had just happened. I had essentially been disowned by my father. Cut off from my inheritance. Exiled from the only family I’d ever known.
I should be falling apart.
And somehow, with Sylvie’s arms around me and the sounds of her family’s laughter drifting from inside the lodge, it didn’t feel like the end of the world.
I wasn’t freaking out. Yes, there was a sense of loss, but it wasn’t devastating me like I thought it would.
“I take it he knows about your decision to invest in us?” she asked, her voice muffled against my chest.
“Yep. The lawyers told him. And then I confirmed it.”
“And he’s not happy?”
I chuckled. “No, but what else is new.”
“Did he disown you?” Her question was barely above a whisper. I could hear the sadness. I almost wanted to tell her no. I didn’t want her to pity me.
“I think that’s one way to put it,” I said. “After the first of the year, I don’t have access to my trust fund.”
She stiffened against me. “Are you going to be able to survive without it?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine. I can do this. Things will change, but I expected this.”
“I know but expecting something and then having it actually happen is very different.”
“I’ve got you, right?” I said.
“Yep. Sorry. You’re stuck with me.”
“Good.”
“Come on,” Sylvie said eventually, tugging at my hand. “Help me finish getting ready for tonight. Best way to get your mind off things is to stay busy.”
I let her lead me back inside, where the warm chaos of party preparation immediately enveloped us. Everyone was working on something. They all knew what to do.
“Everything okay?” Stacy asked when she saw us come in, her eyes immediately going to what I suspected was my less-than-cheerful expression.
“Family drama,” I said, not wanting to get into the details but needing to acknowledge the elephant in the room. “Going home for Christmas isn’t really an option anymore.”
Brom looked up from the table he was moving, one eyebrow raised. “Is that right?”
I hesitated, not sure how much to share. These people had welcomed me into their family, but did they really need to know about my father’s ultimatum? About the fact that I’d just been financially cut off from everything I’d grown up with?
“My father wasn’t happy about the investment,” I said carefully. “He invited me to Christmas, but he’s just going to lecture me the whole time, if I’m going to continue making choices he doesn’t approve of.”
The room went quiet for a moment. I braced myself for the awkwardness that would inevitably follow.
These people understood family loyalty and family obligations.
They probably thought I was crazy for choosing a woman I’d known for weeks over the family that had raised me.
Did they think that proved I was disloyal? Did they see that as a red flag?
But Brom just shrugged one shoulder and went back to arranging chairs.
“Maybe you’re already home for Christmas,” he said casually. “Ever think of that?”
Simple words that carried a lot of weight. I looked around the room at these people who’d accepted me despite every reason they had to be suspicious. They included me in their traditions and their business decisions and their family dinners.
Harold caught my eye and nodded once, a gesture that conveyed both sympathy and acceptance.
Gigi squeezed my shoulder as she passed by with an armload of candles.
Emmy grinned and handed me a stack of napkins to fold.
Stacy had a very motherly look on her face.
She didn’t have to say anything. Her smile was enough.
I got the message.
Sylvie looked at me with eyes that were bright with love and determination, like she was ready to take on my father and the entire Bancroft empire if necessary. For the first time since I made that phone call, I felt like I could breathe again.
“Yeah, you might be right,” I said, my voice stronger than it had been in the past hour. “I think I am already home.”
We threw ourselves back into party preparation. Losing my father’s approval and my inheritance wasn’t the tragedy I always thought it would be.
It was freedom.
Freedom to choose love over obligations. I was choosing connection over control.
Looking around at the family that had claimed me as their own, I knew I had made the right choice. I was going to be okay. It would definitely be an adjustment, but I would be okay.