She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 41

Sybil had gone pale as a sheet. She rushed to deny it. “No, it's not like that! You’ve all misunderstood me”

Alicia didn’t look any better. She pulled her son and daughter close and forced a thin smile at Loyce. “That’s on me. I didn’t think it through. Loyce can live however she likes. We don’t have any objections.”

Forrest spoke evenly. “If that’s the case, don’t say things that invite misunderstandings again. Hank, take our sister around the estate. Let her get familiar with everything. Once the room is cleared out, she’ll move in.”

Hank stepped forward, draped an arm around Loyce’s shoulders, and winked at her like they’d been close for years. “Come on, Loyce. I’ll take you to grab some grapes.”

Loyce glanced at the hand resting on her shoulder and froze for a second. A long scar ran across the back of Hank’s hand. She’d seen that scar before… hadn’t she?

Still distracted, she let Hank steer her toward the vineyard.

After they left, Gordon spoke again. “Tonight’s my first dinner with Loyce since getting her back. Tell the kitchen to put out a spread—different styles, plenty of options. Let’s see what she likes.”

Alicia nodded quickly. “I’ll handle it. And Leroy, help Sybil pack up her things. Have the staff clean out a room for Loyce as soon as possible.”

The moment Sybil got back to her room, the composure cracked. She threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Why is it like this? I’ve worked so hard, and the second Loyce comes back, the boys can’t even look at anyone else.”

Alicia patted her daughter’s back, her voice soft but sharpened underneath. “If you want to blame someone, blame your father. He’s only a minor branch of the Lonsdales—no power, no real standing, and it drags us down with him.”

She tipped Sybil’s chin up, making her meet her eyes. “But I raised you with top-tier standards. You’re miles ahead of some country girl who wandered in out of nowhere.”

So it really was him.

A year ago, Loyce had traveled with the Sampsons and ended up at that same casino—right in the middle of a Costa crime-family turf war. She’d seen Hank there. That scar hadn’t been from some stupid brawl; he’d gotten it protecting an innocent girl.

And lately the dark web had been buzzing: the Costa godfather, Dalton, was supposedly stepping down. Rumor said the successor wouldn’t be Dalton’s son, but a mysterious Yarmoria-born candidate. Someone had posted a bounty—one hundred million—for the man’s head.

Put the timeline together with what Loyce knew… Hank was very likely that “mysterious candidate.”

And the comment thread under the bounty post had already filled with eager applicants—hitmen lining up like it was a job fair. Hank’s name sat near the top of the list. Which meant he wasn’t just living dangerously, he was being hunted.