Chapter 6 - You Tried to Become His Inheritance
Brielle ended the call and turned toward him.
Her face was desperate now.
“They’re leaving because you humiliated me.”
“They’re leaving because you lied to them.”
“I can fix the deposits.”
“Can you?”
She said nothing.
Mara returned.
“Brielle, you need to leave with the guests.”
Brielle looked at the barn.
“I need my decorations.”
“You can coordinate retrieval through counsel.”
“That will take days.”
“Yes.”
“This is my birthday.”
Mara gave her a look so dry it could have preserved meat.
“It is also his ranch.”
Brielle stared at Wyatt.
“You’re enjoying this.”
He shook his head.
That seemed to unsettle her.
Because he wasn’t.
There was no joy in watching a person collapse under the weight of their own lie when your dead brother’s name was tied to the rope.
“I wish Mason were here,” Wyatt said.
Her eyes filled.
“So do I.”
“For different reasons.”
She flinched.
He continued.
“I wish he were here to tell you himself that he signed away the land because he didn’t want it. He wanted Denver. He wanted a restaurant. He wanted a loft with terrible parking and a dog he’d name after a quarterback.”
Despite herself, Brielle’s mouth trembled.
“He wanted me.”
Wyatt softened.
“I believe he did.”
That truth did not save her.
But it mattered.
She looked down at the ruined cake.
“I didn’t know what to do after he died.”
Wyatt said, “So you tried to become his inheritance.”
Brielle closed her eyes.
The sentence hurt because it was accurate.
“I loved him,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Wyatt looked toward the barn.
“I loved him before you knew his middle name.”
Silence.
Then Brielle opened her eyes.
“I was supposed to have a life.”
Wyatt nodded.
“Yes.”
“I planned everything around it.”
“Yes.”
“And then he was gone.”
“Yes.”
Her voice broke.
“And everyone expected me to disappear politely.”
Wyatt did not answer right away.
Because some part of that was true.
Brielle had been treated awkwardly after Mason died.
Not quite family.
Not quite stranger.
A woman in the space between promise and paperwork.
But pain can explain why someone reached.
Not why she stole.
Wyatt said, “You deserved grief. You did not deserve the ranch.”
Brielle cried then.
For real, maybe.
Quietly, at first.
Then with a sharp breath she tried to swallow.
The last guest cars pulled away.
Only a few catering staff remained near the barn, waiting for instructions.
The white floral arch shifted in the breeze.
The cake melted slowly into the grass.
Mara watched Brielle with cautious distance.
Wyatt looked at his sons.
“Go sit in the truck for a minute.”
Owen hesitated.
“Dad—”
“I’m okay.”
The older boy studied him.
Then nodded and guided Eli toward the red pickup.
When they were out of earshot, Wyatt turned back to Brielle.
“I can give you two options.”
She wiped her face, suspicious.
“What?”
“One, you leave now. Mara coordinates with your lawyer. The deposits get documented. The event materials are removed later. Nobody calls the sheriff today unless you refuse.”
Brielle swallowed.
“And two?”
“You keep insisting this is yours, and the sheriff comes while you’re still wearing the tiara.”
Mara looked away.
Probably to hide a smile.
Brielle touched the tiara as if she had forgotten it was there.
Her face flushed.
Slowly, she took it off.
That was the first sensible thing she had done all afternoon.
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she said.
Wyatt did not soften.
“You sold wedding dates on my barn. I believe you can book a hotel.”
Her mouth tightened.
Fair.
She gathered part of her skirt and began walking toward her car.
Halfway there, she stopped.
“Wyatt.”
He waited.
“Did Mason really sign it away?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Wyatt looked at the pasture.
“Maybe because he liked being more important in your eyes than he was on paper.”
That answer hurt both of them.
May you like
Brielle nodded once.
Then left.
