Page 113 of Best Kept Vows

Sebastian smiled at me. “You’ve got this.” His quiet encouragement was a balm amid the charged atmosphere. Then, almost as if the moment demanded an escape, he rose abruptly.

“I’m going for a walk,” he declared with a calm urgency and then left me in the company of his formidable mother.

Alone.

In that unexpected solitude, the responsibility of navigating this delicate situation fell squarely on my shoulders for the very first time—and strangely, that realization sparked a secret smile deep within me.

He was not only defending me, he was also letting me defend myself. My husband’s psychology classes were undoubtedly paying off!

Dolly watched her son leave with a careful, pursed-lip expression, her eyes glinting with disbelief and anger.

Before turning her full attention to me, she attempted asaccharine smile—one I had long known to be nothing but a well-practiced façade.

“Well, Lia, dear,” she cooed, extending her hand toward her champagne glass as if preparing for a heart-to-heart. “What the hell have you done to my son?”

I resisted the urge to tell her that I had done nothing, choosing instead to let silence fill the space between us.

With a dainty sip of her drink, Dolly set the champagne glass down with an exaggerated, theatrical sigh that resonated through the still air. “You can go. I won’t be having this conversation with you.”

I lounged back and suppressed the smirk that was threatening. “Then there will be no conversation in the future. Sebastian isn’t interested in discussingyourfinances with you.”

She hissed and looked at me with disdain for what felt like a whole sixty seconds.

Then, as if she’d made a decision, she began, her tone heavily laden with a pretense of sorrow that felt all too manufactured, “I suppose you’ve already heard.”

“Heard what?” I inquired politely, fully aware of the narrative that was about to unfold.

Dolly sighed once more, this time with an extra flourish of dramatic despair, one hand pressed theatrically to her heart. “Sebastian’s reckless decisions regarding Boone Metals have left me in an extremely difficult position.”

A difficult position indeed—one so dire it nearly compelled me to roll my eyes.

“Dolly, you’re the one who insisted Bryce run thecompany, which is why you’re having to sell Boone Metals for scrap prices,” I said mildly, my voice calm amidst the theatrics of her lament.

As she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a delicate napkin, her eyes betrayed nothing of the concern that should have matched her dramatic posture. “It’s humiliating. The Boone name—our legacy—has been tarnished beyond repair.”

I didn’t respond and instead allowed the silence to stretch, determined to wait her out.

Her lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she leaned in, her voice growing softer but no less insistent. “Sebastianmustpay for?—”

“No,” I interrupted her.

“Lia—”

“You invited us toaskfor money, but instead ofasking, you decided to order and demand. That’s not how this works.” I gave her a flat, unimpressed stare.

At my bluntness, Dolly bristled visibly as if the directness of my words had struck a raw nerve. “I’m notasking—” she began to protest.

I interjected with cool composure. “But that’s precisely what you’re doing.”

At that moment, her demeanor shifted. Her eyelids fluttered, and for a fleeting second, I caught a glimpse of genuine fear in those eyes.

Dolly Boone, self-proclaimed queen of the Boone family, was undeniably scared.

The money was gone. The opulent gala dresses, theexclusive country club membership, even the luxurious services of a private chef—everything now seemed unsustainable without Boone Metals upholding the illusion of affluence and stability.

I drained my glass of champagne and set it down. “We’re not going to fund your lifestyle, Dolly.”

Her reaction was instantaneous—a sharp flinch, as if I had delivered a resounding slap to her meticulously crafted image. “No one is asking you to. I’m asking Sebastian to do his duty and?—”

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