The slap cracked across the porch.
Gideon could not hear it.
Merrick certainly could.
He staggered sideways, one hand against his cheek.
“What the hell—”
“You lied to me.”
His expression shifted.
Rosalie pulled the receipt from her coat.
Merrick’s eyes dropped to it.
And immediately she knew.
He recognized it.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew!”
Merrick looked toward the door.
That tiny movement betrayed him.
Rosalie shoved past him.
Silas Ashford was in his study.
Her father sat beside the window with a glass of whiskey near his elbow and medical ledgers spread before him.
He looked older than he had eight days earlier.
Not weaker.
Just more rotten.
Silas lifted his eyes.
“So the rancher returned you.”
Rosalie placed the medical receipt on his desk.
The color left his face.
For one glorious second, her father had no words.
Then he reached for the paper.
Rosalie pulled it
