* Present *

I stood frozen in my father’s yard, boots rooted to the dirt like I’d grown there while my body betrays me with every hammering heartbeat.

My children’s faces flashed behind my eyes. Their eyes. Their smiles. Their father is standing ten feet away. If only I could tell which one of them.

“Ivory.” Colt’s voice was softer than I remembered, rougher too. “It’s… it’s good to see you again.”

Six years hadn’t touched them the way it had touched me. Kameron’s devil-may-care grin faltered for just a second, something almost vulnerable flashing across his face before the mask slipped back into place.

“Hey, firecracker,” he said, and damn him for making it sound affectionate. “You look…” He stopped, swallowed. “You look good. Really good.”

I wanted to laugh. Or scream. Maybe both.

They were standing there like we were old friends reuniting. Like they hadn’t F**ked me senseless in a tack room and vanished before sunrise.

“Oh, please. Cut the shit.” The words came out mocking and sharp enough to cut. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like—”

“Ivory, please.” Colt took a step forward, his hands raised like he was approaching a spooked mare. Those hazel eyes held something that looked dangerously close to regret. “We need to talk. All three of us.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“We own the ranch now,” Kameron said steady. “That’s something we need to discuss. Privately.”

Colt stepped off the porch before I could run and Kameron followed, his voice soft in a way that made my skin crawl, as he continued.

“Your father needs his rest. His condition… Well, we don’t want to stress him any more than necessary. This conversation shouldn’t involve him.”

My father stood helpless on the steps, his trembling hands clasped in front of him.

The guilt in his eyes nearly broke me, but I couldn’t comfort him right now. I couldn’t do anything but follow these two men into the main ranch house like a lamb to slaughter.

They led me to my father’s office inside the main ranch house. The same room where I’d learned to balance ranch ledgers as a teenager.

Now I sat across from two men who owned every acre my family had built over three generations.

Kameron claimed the leather chair like he belonged there while Colt positioned himself by the window, watching me with those unreadable eyes.

“Does Ryan know about this?” The accusation ripped from my throat. “How the hell did this even happen? You both disappeared six years ago, vanished like smoke, and now you own everything my family spent generations building?”

Kameron shrugged, that infuriating smile still playing at his lips. “Who do you think told us your ranch was drowning?”

My stomach dropped.

What a stupid…

“We ran into him at the bar about a week back.” He examined his nails with studied casualness. “Old friends catching up, drinks flowing—you know how it goes. Ryan always did talk too much after his third whiskey. Spilling his guts about daddy’s debts, the bank circling like vultures, how worried he was about his baby sister.”

“Ryan wouldn’t—”

“Your father’s Parkinson’s has been destroying more than his body.”

Colt interrupted, finally turning from the window.

“Your father made sure of that during the sale negotiations. He was trying to protect you, Ivory. Protect your practice and your income.”

He slid the folder across the desk toward me.

“Your contract has a penalty clause for early termination. Standard language for a position with housing and equipment benefits included.” His hazel eyes met mine. “Fifty thousand dollars.”

My blood turned to ice.

Fifty thousand dollars. I didn’t have fifty thousand dollars.

I had three children who needed new kindergarten clothes. I had a veterinary practice that barely broke even. I had a bank account held together by prayers.

“This is a joke.” My voice came out strangled. “You’re seriously telling me I’m trapped here because of the fine print I signed three years ago? That I can’t walk away from this—from you—without paying a fortune I don’t have?”

“That’s exactly what we’re telling you.” Kameron leaned on the chair back, that devil’s smile curling slowly returning onto his lips. The afternoon light caught his ice-blue eyes and my stomach lurched. “Looks like you’re stuck with us, firecracker.”

This nickname made me feel a range of emotions, including goosebumps. He’d called me that for the first time years ago, when I’d lost my temper and he’d laughed at the fire in my eyes.

I’d secretly loved it then. Now it felt like a chain around my throat.

I looked between them—Kameron with his careless charm, Colt with his quiet intensity—and saw my future stretching out like a prison sentence.

Daily contact with the men who still made my body burn. Daily contact with the men who had given me three children and didn’t even know it.

Fifty thousand dollars stood between me and freedom. I was trapped.