Chapter 4 - The Wolves in Daylight
The morning sun over Jackson Hole was blinding against the fresh mountain snow.
I woke up inside a bedroom larger than the entire apartment I rented above the laundromat.
The sheets were Egyptian cotton, cold and crisp, smelling faintly of the lavender mist someone had sprayed before dawn.
On the mahogany vanity table rested my purse, my cracked smartphone, and a folded stack of morning newspapers.
My hands shook as I picked up the Jackson Hole Daily Herald.
Above the fold was a massive, high-definition photograph from the gala.
It showed Nathaniel Mercer towering over table nineteen, his massive wool coat draped over my trembling shoulders.
The headline read in bold black ink: THE KING OF PINEHAVEN CLAIMS HIS BRIDE: ALLIANCE SHATTERED AT BLACKRIDGE GALA.
My phone was vibrating so hard against the wooden table it sounded like a dying insect.
There were forty-seven missed calls from unknown numbers, six voicemails from my landlord, and three frantic texts from my supervisor.
The most recent message was from Daniel Reeves, sent at four-fifteen in the morning.
Emma, pick up your damn phone. You have no idea what you’ve walked into. Nathaniel Mercer is using you to destroy my family. Meet me at the archives before nine or you won't have a future in this town.
I stared at the screen, a cold, hard anger crystallizing inside my chest.
For eleven months, I had been the docile, grateful girl who blushed when he brought me stale pastries.
That girl had died on the floorboards of the Grand Timber Lodge while three hundred rich people laughed at her pain.
The bedroom door opened softly, and a middle-aged woman in a crisp gray uniform stepped inside carrying a garment bag.
“Good morning, Miss Parker,” she said with a respectful nod.
“Mr. Mercer requested that you wear this for your appointment this morning.”
Inside the bag was a charcoal cashmere sweater, tailored wool slacks, and a pair of handmade leather boots that fit my feet like a second skin.
When I walked down the spiral staircase into the massive stone foyer, Nathaniel was waiting by the double oak doors.
He was reading a financial report on a tablet, looking as calm and lethal as he had the night before.
“Blackridge Timber opened down four percent on the private exchanges this morning,” he said without looking up.
“The investors don't like the idea of Pinehaven parking its tanks on their front lawn.”
“I’m going to the office,” I said, my voice steady and firm.
Nathaniel lowered the tablet, his slate eyes narrowing slightly.
“You don't need to step foot in that building again, Emma.”
“My legal team has already drafted your formal severance package, backed by a trust fund that will keep you comfortable for life.”
“No,” I replied, stepping directly into his line of sight.
“If I let your lawyers handle it, Daniel and Madeline will spend the rest of their lives telling everyone I ran away like a frightened rabbit.”
“I am going to walk into Blackridge Timber, clean out my desk, and look Daniel Reeves in the eye in broad daylight.”
“If you want me to play the part of your future wife, Mr. Mercer, you have to let me fight my own battles.”
For a long moment, Nathaniel simply stared at me, the silence stretching between us like a drawn bowstring.
Then a slow, predatory grin spread across his face, transforming his harsh features into something dangerously magnetic.
“You really do have your mother’s spine,” he murmured.
He tapped his earpiece twice.
“Marcus, bring the lead car around.”
“Miss Parker has an appointment to terminate some employment contracts.”
Thirty minutes later, Nathaniel’s convoy pulled up directly in front of the glass-and-timber headquarters of Blackridge Timber and Development.
Employees walking into the building froze on the sidewalk as the armored SUVs took over the executive drop-off lane.
I stepped out into the crisp morning air, wearing Nathaniel’s diamond cuff prominently over the sleeve of my cashmere sweater.
Two armed security guards in dark suits fell in step behind me, their presence an unmistakable statement of force.
The whispers began the moment the automatic sliding doors opened into the lobby.
Receptionists, accountants, and senior project managers stopped in their tracks, staring at me as if I had risen from the dead.
The same people who had smirked at my clearance-rack dresses were now shrinking back against the walls as I walked past.
I pressed the button for the sub-basement archives, the quiet underground floor where company records were stored.
The elevator doors opened into the dusty, fluorescent-lit corridor smelling of old paper and toner.
Standing outside the heavy steel doors of the vault was Daniel Reeves.
He looked haggard, his designer tie undone at the collar and dark purple circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes.
The moment he saw me, he rushed forward, his hands reaching out to grab my arms.
Before he could touch me, the guard on my left stepped between us, his hand resting casually on the butt of a concealed sidearm.
Daniel froze, his face twisting with bitter frustration.
“Emma, please,” Daniel pleaded, his voice cracking.
“Tell these goons to back off for five minutes.”
“We need to talk about what happened last night before things get completely out of hand.”
I looked at the man I had loved for nearly a year, and for the first time, I felt absolutely nothing.
May you like
“You have two minutes, Daniel,” I said coldly.
“Make them count.”
