Adison’s POV
The river keeps flowing.
Walter's words echo through my bones like something physical—Richard's company, rightfully mine—and I can't make them mean anything that makes sense.
My mind scrambles for purchase, grasping at fragments of history, searching for whatever buried secret could possibly justify such a claim.
My father never mentioned the Snyders beyond social pleasantries. Victoria was always just a board member, an ally, a family friend. Nothing more.
What am I missing?
Walter turns away from the water, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. "Well. This has been illuminating." His voice returns to that pleasant mask he wears so effortlessly. "I should collect Violet. We have a flight to catch."
He moves toward the house, and something in me snaps into action.
"Wait." I step into his path, blocking his retreat. My voice comes out steadier than I feel—a small miracle. "You can't drop something like that and walk away. What game are you playing?"
"Game?" His eyebrows lift with practiced innocence. "I'm simply stating facts, Adison. Though I understand this must be overwhelming for you."
"Then explain it." I hold my ground despite the trembling in my legs. "What history? What claim? My father never mentioned anything connecting our families beyond business."
Walter's smile turns patient. Patronizing. The kind of expression you give a child asking questions beyond their comprehension.
"You shouldn't worry yourself about this." He tilts his head, studying me with that unnerving attention. "Not here. Not now. There's nothing to be gained from half-conversations by a river in Texas."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting today." His composure doesn't crack. Not even a flicker. "We'll discuss everything properly in New York. When you're back in Manhattan, running the company you believe is yours—we'll sit down like civilized people and sort through the details."
The deflection feels strategic. Calculated to keep me off-balance, marinating in uncertainty until he's ready to strike. I recognize the tactic from boardrooms and society dinners—keep your opponent guessing, let anxiety do the work for you.
I refuse to give him that satisfaction.
"I'll check on Violet myself." The words come out clipped. Commanding. "You can wait on the terrace. Jake and Zachary are there—I'm sure they'll keep you company."
Something flickers behind his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or respect for a move he didn't anticipate.
"As you wish." He inclines his head with exaggerated courtesy.
I watch him walk toward the house, every step measured and precise. Jake and Zachary stand on the terrace, their confusion visible even from this distance. Neither can read the exchange that just occurred—the threat wrapped in silk, the warning I can't fully understand.
I force myself to breathe. Then I turn toward Violet's room.
The door is open when I reach it. Paige stands by the window, folding clothes into a suitcase with careful movements. Violet stands rigid near the bed, her posture brittle with pre-departure tension.
"Paige." I keep my voice gentle but firm. "Could you give us a moment?"
She looks between us, reading something in my expression that makes her nod immediately. "Of course." She sets down the blouse she was folding and slips past me into the hallway.
The door clicks shut behind her.
Violet's eyes find mine, and I watch her expression shift as she catalogs whatever disaster is written across my face.
"What did he do?" The question comes out sharp. Urgent. "What did Walter say to you?"
I lean against the closed door, suddenly exhausted. The weight of everything pressing down until I can barely stand.
"He knows about the pregnancy." The words scrape out like glass. "He knows about Jake. And he claims there's some buried secret connecting our families—something that means my father's company is rightfully his."
Violet's face goes pale.
"That's impossible." She shakes her head, genuine shock cracking through her usual calculations. "I've never heard anything like that. Not from my parents, not from anyone."
"Neither have I." I press my palms against the door behind me, anchoring myself. "But he said it like it was obvious. Like I should already know."
"Walter lies." Violet's voice hardens. "He manipulates. It's what he does—finds your weak spots and exploits them."
"This felt different." I meet her eyes directly. "This felt like something he's been waiting to say for a very long time."
The silence stretches between us. I watch Violet process this new information, her mind clearly working through implications and angles.
"I'll find out." She says it like a promise. Like something she's sealing in blood. "Whatever he's hiding—whatever this secret is—I'll uncover it. He's not as careful as he thinks."
"Why would you do that?" The question escapes before I can stop it. "We barely know each other, Violet. A week ago, you were trying to seduce my fiancé."
Her jaw tightens at the reminder. But something else moves through her expression—something that looks almost like shame.
"Because Walter is dangerous." She steps closer, lowering her voice. "And because you're the first person who's ever looked at me like I might be worth something other than disappointment."
The confession lands somewhere tender in my chest.
"We're allies now then." I hold out my hand. "Real ones."
She takes it. Her grip is surprisingly strong.
Something fragile solidifies between us in that moment—alliance becoming something closer to trust. Two women bound by a shared enemy and the secrets he holds over both of us.
"I'll text you from New York." Violet releases my hand and reaches for her suitcase. "The second I learn anything."
"Be careful." I mean it. "He's your brother, but that doesn't make him safe."
Her smile turns bitter. "I know exactly what my brother is."
Downstairs, the car waits in the afternoon sun.
I walk Violet to the passenger door, her suitcase already loaded in the trunk. Walter stands by the driver's side, his pleasant mask firmly in place.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Adison." His voice carries across the gravel, smooth as silk. "We'll talk soon. Very soon." He pauses, something sharpening beneath his smile. "Prepare yourself mentally. There's much to discuss."
The words land like a blade sheathed in courtesy.
Jake watches from the porch, tension coiling through his shoulders. His eyes move between Walter and me, trying to decipher the warning beneath the pleasant farewell.
He can't. Not yet. I'll have to tell him everything—the pregnancy discovered, the threat implied, the secret I can't name.
But not now. Not with Walter still watching.
"Safe travels." I keep my voice steady as Violet climbs into the car.
Walter nods once, then slides behind the wheel. The engine purrs to life.
I stand in the dust until the car disappears down the drive, carrying my new ally away and leaving me alone with questions I don't know how to answer.
Jake's hand finds my shoulder.
"What happened down by the river?" His voice is low. Worried.
I turn to face him, and I don't know where to begin.