Til Debt Do Us Part (Married At Midnight #4)

Chapter 8

Eight

Dare

T he musty scent of oak and leather greets me as I stride through the front doors of Morgan Manor. My boots echo across marble floors, a familiar cadence I’ve known since childhood.

“Remy!” I call out, my voice reverberating in the cavernous foyer. No answer. The old man’s probably tucked away in his study, scheming as always.

I spot Magda dusting the banister, her worn blue uniform reminding me of happier times. “He’s not here, Mr. Dare. Gone to Montana, Clive says.”

Of course. Remy always did prefer the wilderness when troubled waters churned in the family. My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into flesh. He can’t hide from me forever.

I stalk towards the study, Magda’s protests fading behind me. The room is dim, heavy curtains drawn. My eyes sweep over leather-bound books, cognac swirling in a crystal decanter, a half-smoked cigar resting in an ashtray.

There, on Remy’s massive oak desk: a single yellowed envelope. My name scrawled across the front in a shaky cursive.

I snatch it up, pulse quickening as I tear through the seal. A single sheet of paper flutters onto the desk, three words stark against pristine vellum.

You’re cut off.

“You son of a bitch,” I hiss, crumpling the note in my fist. He can’t do this. He won’t get away with it.

I’ll find a way to make him pay, consequences be damned. The company is mine, and I’ll stop at nothing to take back what’s rightfully mine.

Power above all else. That’s the Morgan way. I might be trying to shape the future of the Morgan family, but that mantra is etched in my blood.

The study door creaks open behind me. I whirl around, note crumpled in my fist, as Clive steps inside.

“My apologies, sir. I didn't mean to startle you.” His gaze darts to the note in my hand, brows knitting together. “Is everything alright?”

I force a smile, smoothing the note against my thigh. “Just fine, Clive. Has my uncle arrived yet?”

“Yes. Mr. Felix is having a drink in the living room.” Clive’s lips purse in a frown, aged eyes peering into my own. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I have known you since you were a boy. If there’s anything troubling you, I hope you know you can confide in me.”

The urge rises to tell him everything, to confess my fears and seek solace from the man who raised me as his own. But I can’t drag Clive into this mess. He’s given enough to this family.

I place a hand on his shoulder, hoping to convey what words cannot. “You’ve always been there for me, Clive. Thank you. But this is a private family matter that must remain between me and my uncle.”

Clive nods, a flicker of sorrow in his eyes. “I understand.”

With a steadying breath, I stride into the parlor. Felix leaps up from an armchair, pupils dilated despite the ample lighting. The sickly sweet scent of bourbon clings to him like a shroud.

“Dare, finally! We have much to discuss regarding the company. This deal with the Norwegians is too good to pass up, and if we don’t act quickly?—”

“The company is no longer your concern,” I interrupt, fixing him with a hard stare. “Remy has made it perfectly clear that if I want the inheritance, I can’t continue to do business with you. I’ll write you a small severance check if you promise to cease all activity on my behalf.” I pause, narrowing my eyes. “And if you go near those Norwegians, I’ll see to it that you never work in this town again.”

“What?” Felix blanches, eyes bulging. “You can’t do this! The company is mine, you ungrateful brat. I made that company what it is today, not you or your pathetic excuse of a brother! I should be in charge!”

“The company is going to be well taken care of.” I take a menacing step forward, relishing the fear etched into the lines of his face. “But not by you. You’re done here, Uncle. Get out of my sight before I call the authorities.”

Felix stumbles back a step, then turns on his heel and storms out. The front door slams shut behind him.

The throne will be mine . And God help anyone who tries to take it from me.

I shake off the remnants of Felix's toxic presence and make my way to the library. The familiar scent of aged leather and mahogany calms my frayed nerves.

Here in this room, my grandfather had taught me the intricacies of business over games of chess. "Think three moves ahead," he would say. "Anticipate your opponent's every maneuver. Only then will you truly be in control."

Remy may have the title of CEO for now, but his time is running out. It's my move, and when the board is clear, the company will be mine.

A soft knock on the open doorway interrupts my musings. Rob pokes his head in, brow knitted with concern. "Mr. Morgan, I've just had a call from Hope House. It seems there's been an incident with Solana."

My chest tightens at the mention of her name. "What happened? Is she all right?"

"She's fine, just a bit shaken up. Apparently, she had a tantrum and overturned some furniture. The staff felt it best if someone came to collect her for the day."

Talia. Of course she would step in to help. The thought of Solana in Talia's care brings an unexpected smile to my lips.

Their time together would do the girl good. "Yes, that's perfect. I’ll text my wife. Thanks."

Rob nods. "Will that be all, sir?"

"For now. Thank you, Rob."

He closes the door behind him, leaving me alone once more with my thoughts.

Winning the game will not be enough. When all is said and done, I want something real to come back to. A family of my own, and perhaps a chance at happiness I've only begun to dream of.

And Talia—kindhearted, strong-willed Talia—may just be the one to share that dream with me. I pull out my phone, composing a text to my wife. As I stalk out of the room, completely distracted, I practically stumble over Felix as he stands in the foyer.

Felix's eyes narrow, sensing the shift in my mood. "What made you so cheerful all of a sudden?"

“Why are you still here?” I frown, feigning nonchalance. "Shouldn’t you be planning to fuck off to Europe about now?"

"Don't give me that. I know you too well, nephew. Tell me what has got you looking like a ray of absolute sunshine."

"If you must know,” I say, adjusting my tie. “Talia got me involved with a charity called Hope House. I’m on my way to see whetheror not I can help my wife handle a rather trivial emergency.”

All color drains from his face.

"Hope House? Isn’t that an orphanage?”

I shake my head at him and start walking toward the front door.

“A youth shelter, I think it’s called.”

“And she’s involved you with that place?" His voice rises in anger. "Have you lost your mind? After all the work I've put in, you'd throw it away for some do-gooder and a bunch of unwanted brats?"

“What are you talking about, Felix?”

He hurries after me. “You’re changing, Dare. You don’t even see it, but I do. That woman has got you wrapped around her little finger somehow. She’s convinced you that you need to go and adopt a bunch of snotty kids. That’s insane. You’re a Morgan, for chrissake.”

“Shut up,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Leave me alone. I have to go help Talia soothe a little girl named Solana. I don’t need you wringing your hands and trying to figure out how to turn the situation to your advantage.”

"Solana? You've even given one of them a name?" He laughs harshly. "You're more foolish than I thought. Once I tell Burn about this, he'll?—"

"You'll do no such thing." I step closer, staring down at him. "If you so much as breathe a word of this to Burn or anyone else, you'll regret it. Are we clear?"

Felix glowers up at me but holds his tongue. He knows I don't issue empty threats.

"Besides," I add, “it's time for new blood to take the helm. Fresh ideas and a clean slate, without all the backroom dealing and double-crossing that's been the hallmark of this family for too long."

A muscle in his cheek twitches. "You won’t succeed."

I meet his gaze steadily. "Try me."

He turns crimson. But I merely brush past him, leaving my uncle behind. I have far too many things on my mind and none of them are my greedy family.