Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 64

A tall man in a crisp navy suit, polished shoes, and a smug, manufactured smile stepped into her path — like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

Mr. Hamilton.

“Ms. Kaelani,” he said smoothly, hands clasped in front of him like a polite predator. “Out for a stroll, I see. What a coincidence, running into you.”

Kaelani didn’t stop walking, just gave a tight-lipped smile and an audible huff of irritation. “Yes… what a coincidence.”

Unbothered, he matched her pace. “Since we’re both here, perhaps we can revisit our conversation from last month. I think you’ll find our new offer—”

“Look, Mr. Anderson—”

“Hamilton,” he corrected, still smiling.

“Yeah. Whatever.” She didn’t bother hiding her disdain. “My answer hasn’t changed.”

He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“I’m not selling. Not now. Not ever. You and your corporate goons can take your shady money and build your stupid casino somewhere else. Not here. Not in this town.”

Her voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. The kind that shut doors — permanently.

Mr. Hamilton offered a placid smile, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve.

“You know, Ms. Kaelani… It’s admirable — really — how protective you are of that little place. But sentimentality doesn’t secure your future. One day, you’ll realize legacy means nothing without leverage. Especially for someone like you.”

Kaelani stopped in her tracks.

Her jaw clenched as her grip tightened on the wagon’s handle.

“Someone like me?” she echoed, voice deceptively calm.

He lifted a brow, clearly amused. “I only meant a small-town girl running a modest bakery—”

“No, I heard exactly what you meant,” she cut in, taking a step closer, her voice low but razor-sharp. “You think just because I don’t have millions or power or a last name that makes headlines, I’m supposed to bow to people like you. Let you bulldoze over the heart of this town for a few extra zeroes in your bank account?”

Her throat tightened, but her tone stayed controlled — cool and devastating.

“Well, I don’t give a damn about leverage. Or your legacy. And I sure as hell don’t need a man in a tailored suit telling me what I’ll regret someday. You and your developers can keep sniffing around, but I’m not selling. So unless you’re putting an order in for muffins, don’t approach me again.”

Mr. Hamilton gave a polite nod, but the mask had slipped — she saw the twitch in his jaw before he turned.

Kaelani exhaled sharply and pulled the wagon forward, her stride brisk. But the burn lingered — beneath her ribs, behind her eyes — because as much as she hated it, his words still clung to her like smoke.

Kaelani’s boots struck the pavement with a little more force than usual as she walked, her jaw tight, brows furrowed. The nerve of that man. “Someone like you,” he had said. As if her kindness, her work, her roots in this town made her small — disposable.

She shook her head, gripping the wagon handle tighter as she rounded the next block. Still seething. She just needed a moment to breathe, to push the heat from her chest back down where it belonged.

But as she turned the corner, she froze.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify