Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sebastian
The red leather portfolio sits on my desk, right next to the lamp Rosalia and I broke. It is a silent reminder of my mistakes. It’s funny how something so ordinary can represent what I’ve carelessly shattered.
My grip slips as I lift my coffee, sending drops across the polished desk.
The dark liquid pools against the portfolio’s edge.
I stare at it, making no move to clean it up.
It’s been three days since the derby party and every time I close my eyes, I see Rosalia.
The pain I’ve caused her, the trust I’ve shattered, loops endlessly through my mind.
I reach for my phone as the compulsion to apologize hits me again. But as my thumb hovers over our message thread, I set my cell face down. There’s nothing left to say that she would want to hear.
A knock at the door rips me from my self-loathing. “Come in,” I say, my attention fixed on the broken lamp.
“My legal assistant said you needed me,” Daniel says from the doorway.
I nod, gesturing for him to sit. The movement sends a sharp pain through my tense shoulders. I’ve spent too much time hunched over work that I barely focus on. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I can help Rosalia.
“Donate to her fundraiser. From my personal account. But make it anonymous.” I don’t need to tell Daniel who she is. He knows.
“How much?”
“Whatever she needs to meet her goal.”
“That would be zero dollars.”
My pen clatters to the desk. “What? Already? It’s been three days.”
He shrugs. “I checked this morning. More than the amount has been given.” Daniel shifts in his seat. “There’s something else you should know...”
I keep my face placid, but my pulse picks up. “What?”
“Thorne sent some papers to my office this morning. About Rosalia’s bookstore lease.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. Whatever game my brother is playing, I’m not in the mood.
Technically, everyone forfeited—I was going to give her the portfolio, but she wasn’t going to take the files.
And Thorne went against his rule and showed her the bet.
But knowing him, he’ll still try to claim victory.
“What now?” I lean back in my chair, steeling myself.
Daniel holds my gaze for a long moment, then his face breaks into an unexpected smile. “He renewed her lease. Indefinitely.” He hands me a sheet of paper.
I stare at him, certain I’ve misheard. “He did what? ”
“Fixed rate, automatic renewal, no termination clause except with her explicit consent. It’s ironclad. I reviewed it myself.” He taps the paperwork. “Seems Thorne might have a soul hidden in that shriveled heart.”
My brother renewed her lease indefinitely. The man I thought I knew wouldn’t have done something so... decent.
“Anyway, even without that unexpected turn, Rosalia would have been okay. Yes, this saves her from having to find a new place, but she now has the money to do so. Like I said, her fundraising efforts are going really well.”
“Why are you keeping tabs on her?” I snap.
Daniel snorts. “Settle down, Jealousy Jones. The woman I’m dating, Anna, works in marketing. You met her at the gala. She’s been helping. Along with a specialist in online services. Oh, and Rosalia’s friend, Paige…” My asshole friend and lawyer smirks, “and her brother Noah.”
A pang of jealousy shoots through me at the mention of the brother, but I force it down. I have no right, not after what I’ve done. “Fine, then give the money to one of her programs. Do the one for adult literacy. That was next on her list.”
“How much?” he asks.
“Enough to cover the whole thing. And do it anonymously.” I instruct.
“Why?”
“I want to take stress off her shoulders, but I don't want her to think I’m trying to buy her forgiveness,” I explain. “This isn’t about getting her back. It’s about supporting something important regardless of whether she ever speaks to me again.”
Daniel studies me. “You’re not going to try to win her back?”
I rub the ache in my chest, that constant reminder of her absence. The pain is physical, like something vital has been torn out. I haven’t eaten a proper meal since that night, and coffee and bourbon are poor substitutes. “I miss her, but given everything we had was built on lies, we won’t work.”
“And you’re going to make sure of that, are you?” he asks sarcastically.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I shout, startling us both. The burst of emotion is unlike me. Running a hand down my tie, I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have let Thorne talk me into that damn bet, but I did, and once it started, there was no way to stop it.”
“Bullshit. You’re a smart man. You could have found a way out of it. But you didn’t want to.”
I flatten my hands on the desk so they don’t curl into fists. “You know I tried.”
“Barely. And like I said, you’re smart, you could have found a way.” Daniel settles back, his expression softening. “But you couldn’t resist testing her, could you?”
“What are you talking about?” Although a small part of me whispers, I know what he’s going to say.
“You create arbitrary tests for people, expecting them to pass without even knowing they’re being tested. It’s unfair. And it’s holding you back.”
I want to argue, but can’t seem to find a defense.
“Take our friendship,” Daniel continues.
“Ever since your divorce, I feel like I’m constantly on trial, having to prove my loyalty to you.
It’s exhausting.” He rests his elbows on the table.
“I’ve known you for more than a decade. I know what this is about.
You want to see if we just want to use you.
And that’s understandable, but you’re pushing people who care about you away.
The bet was your excuse, your test, this time.
You wanted a guarantee she wouldn’t hurt you. ”
“Is it so wrong that I want proof she saw me and not the Blackstone name?” I ask, my voice softer, defeated.
“Well, you got it.” Daniel holds my gaze, unflinching. “And because of it, you lost her.”
I look away. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve been setting up scenarios where I test people, but everyone has failed. Even Rosalia.
With the little bit of fight left in me, I say, “Why did she have to accept his deal? We weren’t strangers. She and I were friends. I’d visited her store often.”
“We’ve been over this,” Daniel sighs. “Thorne was offering to save her livelihood. Are you honestly telling me you wouldn’t screw over an acquaintance to save Blackstone Bourbon?”
“That’s different. ”
His brows shoot up. “Why? Because your distillery is massive and your dream job holds a higher value than hers? She sells more than books; Rosalia’s built a community. People depend on her bookshop. It’s a safe haven, a refuge.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, letting my vision blur.
In that darkness, fragments of Rosalia solidify.
She kneels to help a shy kid find the perfect dragon book, her hand lingering on the cover as she shares something about the author.
Or how she always remembers everyone’s names, their children’s ages, what they’d read last.
Regret winds tightly behind my sternum, like a spring coiling, ready to snap. I measured importance in balance sheets and workforce numbers. By every metric I valued, my work simply mattered more.
I dismissed her work as quaint. Decorative. Less than.
“Shit,” I whisper, the truth punching me.
The distillery is my dream, but it is just that— my dream. I never once considered how her store stitched together the frayed edges of our city. Never saw how she built something I couldn’t blueprint or replicate, something that existed in the space between people.
“And she’s not the only person you were testing,” Daniel says, forcing open my eyes and pulling me from my thoughts. “You’re testing Thorne.”
I bristle. “What test could I possibly want from him? There’s no trust left between us.”
“Maybe you hoped he’d see what he’s become and change, stop being such an asshole.
” He scoots to the edge of his chair. “Look, you have over thirty years of history with him. Things only went to shit in the last decade. I didn’t know you before college, but I’ve heard the stories—you two were inseparable.
Even after everything, I’m sure you miss him. ”
A hollow laugh escapes me. “If that’s the case, he failed me miserably. Again.”
“No arguing there.”
I drum my fingers against the desk, considering my brother and all he’s done and also what he might have done. “I think Thorne was blocking her loan applications around town. ”
Daniel’s eyes widen. “What makes you say that?”
“I had lunch with Marcus from First Kentucky yesterday. I’d mentioned Rosalia. And, not only did he know her name, which is unusual for a small business owner he’s never worked with, but he got twitchy and muttered something about how he’d heard she was a poor investment.”
“That’s not just petty. It’s illegal,” Daniel sits up straighter. “Interfering with someone’s business like that.”
“And that surprises you?” I scoff. “This bet was extortion, you and I know it.”
“True,” he nods. “And knowing Thorne, he probably made sure the banks understood the consequences of helping her, just like he did with you.”
Unable to sit, I move to the window. My reflection startles me. The dark circles under my eyes, the stubble I haven’t bothered to shave. I barely recognize myself. Three days feel like three years, and I wonder if this hollow feeling is permanent.
I refocus on the Kentucky skyline that usually calms me, but today it offers no solace. “None of that matters now. I’ve made such a mess of everything.” My words come out clipped, tinged with frustration.
“Maybe, but it’s not too late to clean it up,” Daniel says from behind me. “Not to play your therapist—”
I snort. “I thought it was your side hustle. How did I get so lucky? I get a friend, lawyer, and therapist all in one smart-ass package.”
Daniel laughs. “Well, at least you admit to me being your friend.”
I shake my head, surprised that I’m amused. “Don’t let it go to your head. The bar’s pretty low these days.”
“Low bar, high standards. You’re more complicated than you let on.
” He clears his throat. “Now back to playing your therapist. In the years we’ve known each other, I’ve seen your dad wear different hats—father, businessman.
.. He’s undeniably brilliant in the boardroom, but he’s a bit of an asshole. ”
“A bit?” I snort. Daniel isn’t telling me anything I don’t know.
“Alright,” he concedes. “I was being generous because he’s your old man. Anyway, I get the need to build a wall around him. To keep him at arm’s length, but you do it to anyone who has the potential to hurt you. Hell, that’s probably why you married Tiffany.”
“Oh, do tell me your full diagnosis of me, Dr. Daniel.”
Just like in college, he ignores my snark, he continues. “Tiffany’s a perfect match socially. Beautiful, from the right family, but way too much like your father—all scheming and narcissism. Someone you could never truly love.”
I bristle, a defensive retort on the tip of my tongue. But even as I open my mouth to argue, doubts stop me. Could he be right? I turn from the window. “Exactly how many psychology classes did you take at university?”
“My minor was in psychology.”
I rub my face. “Christ. Maybe you should have made it your major.”
Daniel chuckles. “I think that’s my cue to leave to do some lawyerly stuff.” He stands and heads toward the door. “I’ll make your anonymous donation to Rosalia’s fundraiser.”
“Thank you.”
The door clicks shut behind Daniel, but his words remain. Each one chips away at the walls I’ve so carefully constructed. I return my attention to the sprawling vista outside my window. I can’t change the past, but I can damn well fight for a better future.
Which means I need to make things right with Rosalia. But how? How can I prove to her that I’m willing to change to be the man she deserves? The thought of baring my soul, of letting her see the vulnerable parts of myself, terrifies me. Yet, it also fills me with a strange sense of hope.
I open the bottom drawer and pull out an old framed photo of my family from years ago. Thorne and I stood shoulder to shoulder before everything fell apart. There’s unfinished business that keeps casting shadows over everything in my life, including what happened with Rosalia.
Before I can move forward, I need to deal with the past. I pick up my phone and dial my brother’s number. He answers on the fourth ring.
“Sebastian?” His voice is weary .
“We need to talk,” I say, keeping my voice even. “There are things that need to be said. Face to face.”
A pause stretches between us that feels heavy with years of resentment and recent betrayal. “Where?”
“My place.” After our fight at The Mansion made headlines in every local paper, the last thing either of us needs is another public spectacle. “Tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock.” That’d give me some time to prepare what I need to say.
Another pause. I can almost hear him weighing his options, calculating risks and advantages like he always does.
“Fine,” he finally says. “Ten o’clock.”
I end the call without another word. The wall clock ticks, each second a reminder of time wasted on anger and mistrust. Tomorrow I’ll confront my brother, unravel the knots between us.
Only then can I stand before Rosalia with nothing held back—no games, no tests, no armor. Just a man asking for one more chance.