The farmhouse glowed with warmth, the kind that seeped into Holly’s bones. The scent of roasted chicken and cinnamon pie filled the air, wrapping the table in comfort. Ms. Bea’s laughter rang out, Lee’s brother teased him about burning the rolls, and Holly felt herself settling into the rhythm of family. For the first time in days, she belonged.
Then the door opened without knocking.
Lee’s parents stepped inside, their coats still carrying the bite of December air. His father’s gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, while his mother’s eyes softened as they landed on Ms. Bea.
“Lee,” his father said, voice clipped. “We need to talk about the company.”
Lee rose, steady as stone. “There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t want it.”
His father’s jaw tightened. “You’re wasting your potentia
