Chapter 20 #2
“I agreed because you backed me into a corner,” I push back, my grip tightening around the phone. “If I didn’t come, you walk, and the restaurant I’ve spent the last year building disappears with you. That’s not a choice—that’s leverage.”
“You’re choosing to frame it that way,” he says calmly. “I presented you with an opportunity. You should be grateful.”
A quiet, humorless breath escapes me. “A threat dressed up as an opportunity is still a threat, Chet.”
My father sighs over the line, I know the conversation is all but finished by the tone.
“You don’t get to forget who you are.”
My eyes close.
“I’m not trying to forget,” I say, quieter now. “I just wanted something that was mine. Something I did without it being… this.”
“And I allowed that,” he replies. “Because there was strategic value in your participation.”
Of course, because everything I do has to serve his dream, not mine. Because everything I have, I owe to him. Being his son is both a blessing and a cage.
“I know why I’m here.”
“Then act like it.” His voice hardens again before softening, just slightly. “Don’t let distractions cost you something meaningful in the end.”
The line goes dead.
As if he were standing right outside the tent—Julian steps in. He studies me for half a second, before pressing his lips into a straight line.
“How bad was it?”
I huff a quiet breath. “Predictable.”
He leans against the counter, arms crossed, waiting, and I stare out toward the garden, words heavy on my tongue.
“He heard about what I did with production, and felt the need to remind me why I’m here.”
My cousin glances sideways, warily. “And?”
“And I don’t know if I care anymore.”
The admission hangs there, but Julian doesn’t react immediately. Just nods slowly, dark eyes blinking in thought.
“That’s not new for you.”
“No. But it’s getting harder to play his game.”
I drag a hand through my hair, frustration bleeding through. “He didn’t mention pulling funding this time. I think Northern Flame is safe.”
Silence stretches.
Julian watches me, then nods again, more at ease. The lines between his brows smooth out on a heavy exhale.
I let out a slow breath, too. “I’m tired of being… useful. Just a means to an end.”
“That’s a loaded sentence.”
But he knows exactly what I mean. Love is a four-letter word in our family. The only thing that matters is how every choice benefits our legacy.
“Everything is leverage. Everything is positioning. Even this.” I gesture vaguely at the tent. “Especially this.”
“And what does Taylor say about all of it?”
Her name lands hard. I drag my gaze back to Julian. He knows the PR plan was to keep my identity and ties to The Harrington Group a secret.
“She doesn’t know anything about any of this.”
Julian nods like he expected that.
“I don’t want her to know,” I admit. “Because everything changes when people know. It always does.”
Julian doesn’t interrupt, understanding flashing across his face, and he gives me a sad smile.
I toss my head back, eyes on the ceiling, searching for words that don’t sound as bad as they feel. “I just wanted something that was real without context attached to it.”
Blowing the air from my lungs, I stare at the ground as guilt eats away at me. Taylor’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. If anyone was going to take this information in stride, having it change nothing, it would be her.
“I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”
The silence that follows feels different. There’s a shift before I understand why. Julian’s eyes flick past me, and I spin around to see Taylor standing a few feet away.
Her big hazel eyes are locked on me
And I know.
I know exactly which part she heard.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Everything in me goes cold as ice. My hands shake as panic and adrenaline surge through my body. I whip my head to Julian, pleading with him to step in. But he just backs away, hands raised in surrender, abandoning me without a word.
“Taylor—”
Her expression shifts, brows knitting with confusion.
“You shouldn’t have let what go this far?” she asks.
My brain scrambles for the right words, coming up empty.
“I—it’s not—”
“You didn’t want me to know what?” she cuts in.
“I was going to tell you.”
Wrong. That was the wrong thing to say.
“Tell me what?” Her voice cracks. “Just say it. Please.”
I step closer with a hand raised, careful, like she might turn and run. Almost the way you’d approach a scared animal.
“Okay—yeah, okay. I didn’t want you to know who I am. My family. But I swear, it wasn’t about lying to you.”
She lets out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“Alex, you literally just said you didn’t want me to know who you are.”
Because everything changes when people know.
I run a hand over the back of my neck, heart pounding.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” I say, voice rough. “It was part of an agreement with my father. But I also didn’t want this to change. Us. The way you see me.”
Taylor’s eyes glisten now. She shakes her head like the pieces are rearranging inside her mind in real time.
“Why are you here if none of this matters to you?”
Her usual sunny disposition has darkened, and I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing I’m the cause of it.
“You don’t need the money. You don’t need the networking or connections. So… what is this?”
I brace myself against the counter and drop my head.
“My last name is Harrington.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me, Alex.”
Of course it doesn’t. That’s exactly why I was sent here in the first place. To make our name mean something here in the States.
“That’s fair.” I take a deep breath. “My family owns one of the biggest restaurant groups in Vancouver. My father’s expanding into the U.S…”
She studies me as my words trail off, searching my face. Probably looking for any sign of deception. She doesn’t say anything, so I drop my eyes to the ground and continue.
“Julian and I have been working toward opening our own concept and my father threatened to pull funding if I didn’t come on this stupid show. Play by his rules, win people over down here… You get the drift.”
My shoulders sag in relief with the admission. I didn’t realize how much keeping this from her was weighing on me. My next breath feels like the first one I’ve taken in weeks.
Taylor stands there with her arms crossed and her hip cocked, chewing her lower lip. She narrows her eyes as she speaks.
“And that’s all fine, obviously not everyone here came with the sole intention of baking. Look at Lila.”
She rolls her eyes on a scoff.
“There’s plenty about my life that I haven’t told you, but we’ve all talked about our lives back home. At some point, you aren’t just concealing information.” She pauses, thinking. “You’re explicitly lying.”
“I didn’t lie,” I rush. “I work in a kitchen. I do. My family just… owns the kitchen.”
“Lies of omission are still lies, Alex.”
“Taylor, please.” My voice breaks. “I didn’t know we’d become… this. By the time we did, it felt too late.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” she says, and it hurts more than anger ever could. “But I trusted you.”
Her trembling hands rise to her forehead and she begins to pace in front of me. “God, I’m going to look so stupid on TV.”
I’d give anything to go back and refuse the secrecy agreement with The Harrington Group.
“I’d take it back if I could. All of it.”
She shakes her head and steps back. The distance is small, but devastating.
“Please,” I say, desperate now. “I know I should have told you. I’ll tell you everything. Anything. Just—don’t shut me out.”
“No.” Her voice is firm now. She shakes her head furiously, her hair whipping around her face with the motion.
“I need time to process this. I understand everything you’re saying, but I need to work through what this all means.”
She finally looks at me, and I see her trying to hold on to something. “I don’t know which parts were real,” she admits. “And which were just for show.”
My chest caves in, and she turns to walk away.
One hand rises to her face as she goes, and I know she’s wiping away the tears she so bravely fought back.
“It was all real.” My voice is just above a whisper, but there’s a slight pause in her retreat and I know she somehow hears me.
But she doesn’t stop, disappearing through the opening of the tent.
And I stand there, completely still. Alone.
Fuck.