Page 63 of Best Kept Vows

“Yeah, I saw the new one come through. Three hundred grand. Seriously? That woman has been told time and again to be careful, and she’s behaving likeIhave a personal problem with her spending money.” The corners of Nigel’s eyes twitched in silent exasperation.

I leveled him with a stare that screamed,Are you serious?“I thought Dad was smart with his investments.”

“He was, but five years ago, when the shit hit the fan, he began to shift money to cover shortfalls at Boone Metals.”

I sucked in a breath and let it out in frustration. “That’s what I thought when I saw an influx of funds in the yearly earnings reports.”

“I honestly believe that stroke was the result of that man dyin’ for his job.”

Like I was?

“Tell me what you recommend as the next steps.”

“Sell Boone Metals.”

My stomach twisted. The Boone name had once been untouchable—a dynasty of wealth, legacy, and influence. But it was all an illusion now, a grand façade propped up by money that was quickly running out.

“You agree with Dad,” I remarked slowly. “We need to sell Boone Metals.”

“I told him to sell eight years ago and again three years ago, but he wouldn’t,” Nigel admitted. “The longer you wait, the less control you’ll have over the sale. If creditors start getting involved, you’ll be negotiating from a positionof weakness. Selling now gives you the best chance to salvage something.”

“At the current burn rate, when does the shit hit the fan?”

Nigel flipped through spreadsheets on the screen. “I’d say six to eight months. That’s just looking at the money. I know you’ve been busting your ass there, Sebastian, but it’s not worth it. Let it go. Get what you can out of it.”

I let that sink in. Less than a year. I wasn’t sure what would last longer, my father or the company.

Assuming that my not saying anything meant I needed a push, he continued, “This continues, the estate will default on payments, the staff won’t get paid, and your mother will either have to start selling assets or seriously adjust her spending.”

I nodded, absorbing the brutal truth. “What about my father’s medical costs?”

“That’s a priority,” Nigel confirmed. “We have a separate account for his medical expenses, but once the company sells, we can allocate a portion to ensure he’s taken care of for the rest of his life. But, honestly, he has less time than the company does, which is why he wants this done.”

Well, that answered one of my questions.

“This isn’t a used Toyota, Nigel. It’s a freaking company with customers and a factory and?—”

“You need to find a buyer as quickly as possible.”

No shit, Sherlock.

I looked away from the screen that told the sad story of my family’s finances, and stared out the window. If we sold BooneMetals, we’d each walk away with a small share—Coco, Mama, and me. If we didn’t, and the company went under, none of us would get a thing.

Coco still relied on family money, at least in part—I knew what Bryce earned. We were just another old-money Savannah family stuck in the past, clinging to a legacy that hadn’t adapted or evolved. And the truth was, old money didn’t turn into new money unless you worked for it.

Honestly, I didn’t care.

This company had taken everything from me: my marriage, my time with my kids, and my peace of mind. And for what? To try to save a legacy that had already been lost?

“I’ll talk to the company lawyer, and we’ll get this rolling.”

“I know it’s not easy, but?—”

“It’s not that hard, Nigel.” I stood up and held out my hand.

He shook it. “You’re more practical than your father, Sebastian, and I appreciate that.”

I scoffed. I was three years too late to claim the trophy for practicality and sensible living.

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