Dawson did not turn.
Harold pointed toward the door.
“Get out.”
Dawson finally faced him.
“I’ll leave when Lena asks me to.”
“This is my house.”
A strange expression passed over Dawson’s face.
“No,” he said.
Harold froze.
Dawson glanced toward Lena.
“Read the next document.”
She unfolded another paper.
There were legal phrases she did not understand.
Property boundaries.
Loan amounts.
Lien notices.
Then she found the name.
Hail Ranch.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What is this?”
Dawson answered carefully.
“Your father borrowed money against this ranch.”
Harold’s voice became sharp.
“Private business.”
“From the Blackwater Trust.”
Lena looked at him.
“The trust belonging to me?”
Dawson nodded.
“How much?”
Harold said, “Lena—”
“How much?”
Dawson answered.
“Counting unpaid interest?”
“Yes.”
“Almost everything the Hail ranch is worth.”
Lena lowered the paper.
Nobody spoke.
Her father had not merely hidden her inheritance.
He had been using it.
Using her money to preserve the ranch.
Using her labor to operate it.
And humiliating her so thoroughly that she never imagined she had enough value to question anything.
The realization was worse than any insult Lena had endured.
She looked at Harold.
“Was any part of my life true?”
His expression hardened.
“Everything I did kept a roof over your head.”
“My money kept the roof over my head.”
“I raised you!”
“You reminded me every day that I should be grateful for being tolerated.”
“I fed you.”
“With my money.”
“I clothed you.”
“With my money.”
Harold’s face twisted.
“You think Reed wants you because you’re special?”
Dawson moved.
But Lena stopped him with one hand.
Harold saw the wound he had created and struck it deliberately.
“He wants Blackwater.”
Lena went motionless.
“There it is,” Harold said. “The rich rancher suddenly wants you and you think it’s love?”
Dawson’s jaw tightened.
Harold gave a cruel smile.
“Ask him.”
Lena slowly turned.
And for the first time, uncertainty appeared in Dawson’s face.
Harold saw it too.
His smile widened.
“Ask him who owns Blackwater Valley.”
Lena looked at Dawson.
“You?”
Dawson did not answer immediately.
Her stomach dropped.
“Dawson.”
“It’s complicated.”
Harold laughed.
“Of course it is.”
Lena stepped backward.
The tenderness of the previous moment suddenly felt humiliating.
“You came here with documents proving I own property that your family has controlled for twenty years.”
“Yes.”
“And you proposed marriage before telling me.”
“Yes.”
Her voice cracked.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to hear the proposal before you knew about the land.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does to me.”
“Then explain it.”
Dawson drew a slow breath.
“If I told you about the trust first, you’d spend the rest of your life wondering whether I proposed because of it.”
Harold snorted.
Lena stared at Dawson.
“And now?”
“Now you know I walked into this room willing to ask for you before you knew you had anything.”
“That doesn’t prove you don’t want the land.”
“No.”
Dawson nodded.
“It doesn’t.”
He reached inside the leather envelope and withdrew one final folded page.
“I suppose this does.”
He handed it to her.
