Chapter 11

Dominic extended his arm through the car window.

Between his elegant fingers rested a pristine handkerchief.

Evelyn froze. She nearly refused but found herself accepting it against her usual instincts.

"Thank you."

The lingering warmth from his touch remained on the fabric.

Dominic swiftly averted his gaze and rolled up the window as the car accelerated away.

At Thornfield Industries, the morning bustle hummed through the office floors.

A month had passed since employees received their last paycheck. Yet despite circulating rumors of financial ruin, the loyal staff continued working diligently.

Evelyn couldn't reconcile this scene of normalcy with the crushing debt she knew existed.

Vincent Holloway escorted her into the conference room where the lawyer waited.

"My condolences, Miss Thorne," the lawyer began without preamble. "Your father appointed me to execute his will."

Evelyn gave a tight nod.

The lawyer opened a dossier. "Your father owned six properties across prime locations." He slid documents across the table. "Details are all here."

Evelyn examined the papers with growing unease.

"Additionally, there are three parking garages," the lawyer continued, producing more files, "eight commercial storefronts, and twelve luxury vehicles."

The revelations kept coming. Evelyn had never known the extent of her father's wealth.

Why hadn't he liquidated assets for his medical treatment?

"The final asset is this company," the lawyer said, gesturing around them. Then added carefully, "Though currently operating at significant loss."

"How much?" Evelyn's voice barely carried.

Vincent adjusted his glasses. "One hundred twenty-five million. Inheriting means assuming that debt. You'd need to sell everything we just discussed."

Evelyn's breath caught. The sum was astronomical.

"You could refuse," Vincent offered grimly. "But this was your father's life's work. Can you watch it collapse?"

"What about Margaret and Victoria?" Evelyn asked after collecting herself.

Vincent's expression darkened. "Your stepmother's brother embezzled millions before disappearing. They fled the country this morning."

Evelyn pressed her palms to her temples. "I want to save Father's company, but that amount—"

"Secure a loan," Vincent urged. "Our new product is nearly market-ready. With funding, we could recover."

"Who would lend that much?" Evelyn's laugh held no humor.

"Banks. Investors. We must try. Will you?"

At Blackwood Group's executive floor, sunlight streamed through panoramic windows.

Dominic's sharp profile stood in silhouette as he reviewed documents Nathan presented.

"Thornfield Industries owes one hundred twenty-five million, sir. The widow and younger daughter fled overseas this morning. Miss Thorne will likely abandon the company."

Lucas Grant stirred his coffee with fox-like amusement. "I'll wager Evelyn comes to Dominic for the loan. Given their... arrangement."

Nathan shook his head. "She wouldn't dare."

"You didn't see her last night," Lucas chuckled. "Smashed a vintage wine bottle and stood her ground against Bianca. There's steel beneath that soft exterior."

"A month of coffee if I'm wrong," Nathan countered. "You buy for the entire department if you lose."

"Deal."

By afternoon, Evelyn had contacted every major bank.

Reality proved harsher than Vincent's optimism.

Eight calls. Two banks already held company debts. None would extend further credit.

"Here's our product prospectus," Vincent said, handing her a thick binder. "I'll arrange meetings. Dress appropriately."

"Why?" Evelyn frowned at her blouse and slacks.

"First impressions matter in finance," Vincent said pointedly.

At six p.m., Nathan received updates.

"We both lose, Lucas. Miss Thorne secured dinners with River City and Silver Linings Bank tonight."

Lucas groaned. "Those lecherous old bankers? She's throwing herself to wolves! Why not approach Dominic?"

Nathan watched Dominic's expression darken dangerously.

Evelyn remained his legal wife. This would publicly humiliate him.

"Shall I warn her, sir?" Nathan ventured.

Dominic's knuckles whitened around his pen. "Don't interfere."

He needed to see how far she'd go.

Lucas cleared his throat. "Drinks tonight? My treat."

Dominic slammed his laptop shut and wheeled away, his bodyguard following silently.