Page 225 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“Cody… I know men like Jake. They orbit power. They don’t invent it.” I gesture toward the screen. “This? The manipulation? The emotional leverage? The obsession with image and legacy? That’s not operational thinking. That’s family dynasty thinking.”

Cody stares at the emails for a long moment. “I thought she loved us, despite everything.”

The words hit me harder than I expect. Because he sounds younger when he says it. Not Cody Harlan: terrifying human calculator. Just a man trying to reconcile impossible things.

I look back at the screen carefully. “Your aunt mistakes control for love.”

He says nothing to that.

I close the laptop abruptly. “I need air.”

Cody stands. “I’ll come with you.”

“No.”

“Annie.”

“I just need ten minutes where nobody watches me breathe.”

His eyes narrow behind his glasses. “Ten minutes,” he says carefully. “Then I come looking.”

I nod once and leave before he can change his mind.

The ranch is almost completely dark now. Cold wind moves through the trees surrounding the property, carrying the smell of pine and distant rain.

I keep thinking about Vivian. Her smile, her pearls, her perfectly measured voice.

The way she looked at me like she’d already decided my expiration date.

I grew up around women like that. Women who weaponized kindness because rage was too obvious. Women who smiled while dismantling your life piece by piece.

The polished ones are always the most dangerous.

Always.

I stop near the fence line and pull the flash drive from my pocket.

A copy.

One final backup.

Because if tonight taught me anything, it’s this: Never trust one hiding place.

I crouch beside the fence post slowly, fingers cold against the dirt. Then I reach underneath the loose stone marker near the old property boundary. The tiny waterproof case slides perfectly into place beneath it.

Hidden. Protected. Forgettable.

Nobody would ever look here.

I press the dirt back into place carefully. Then stand slowly, wrapping my arms tighter around myself against the cold.

The ranch stretches endlessly into the dark, all polished fences and quiet power. Beautiful. Controlled. Bleeding from the inside anyway. And somewhere beyond the storm, Vivian Harlan is still smiling.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Cody

I haven’t slept.