Chapter 1

The dust from the funerals barely settled on the Miller Ranch, but the vultures were already circling. My father, General Miller, and my older brother, Tom, were gone, their caskets lowered into Texas soil just days ago. That left me, Ethan Miller, the last man standing, heir to an empire of cattle and land that stretched further than the eye could see.

Some folks looked at me with pity, the grieving son, the younger brother who always lived in shadows. Others, like my uncle Robert, just saw an opportunity.

Robert, my father' s brother, arrived with his son, Dylan, their faces etched with fake sympathy that didn't quite reach their eyes. They spoke of supporting me, of helping manage the ranch during this "difficult time." I knew what they meant, they wanted to manage it right out from under me.

Governor Sterling, a man who' d fought alongside my father, pulled me aside after the services. His handshake was firm, his eyes kind but serious.

"Ethan, your father was a great man, a hero."

I nodded, words caught in my throat.

"He worried about the future of this ranch, about you," the Governor continued, his voice low. "He and your grandfather, they had plans, pacts even."

I knew about the old pacts, vague family legends.

"The thing is, son," he said, "there are challenges to your sole inheritance. Your uncle..." He paused, choosing his words. "To secure your position as head of the trust, to make it ironclad against any familial disputes, there' s a condition. You need to marry, and within the year."

Marriage? The thought was a distant, alien concept. My world had just imploded.

"It's for stability, Ethan," the Governor added gently. "To show everyone you're ready to lead, to build a future."

My mind, already a mess of grief, reeled. Marriage. The only woman I' d ever seriously thought about in that way was Brittany Carter. Britt. We' d been hot and heavy a couple of years back, before she decided my family' s money wasn' t coming to me fast enough, or that my prospects weren't as shiny as she'd hoped. She' d moved on, or so I thought. But she' d been around a lot lately, her sympathy a little too bright, her hand lingering on my arm a little too long. A part of me, the foolish, younger part, still felt a pull. Maybe this tragedy would make her see things differently.

Later that week, I was walking past the study, the door slightly ajar. I heard voices, hushed but clear. Dylan' s slick tone, then Britt' s unmistakable, sharp laugh.

"He' s a wreck, Dylan, completely clueless," Britt said.

My blood ran cold.

"Still mooning over you, I bet," Dylan snickered. "Poor bastard. Thinks you actually care he' s an orphan now."

"Please," Britt scoffed. "He' s just a means to an end. With his father and brother gone, he' s the golden ticket. Once he' s got full control, and I' ve got him wrapped around my little finger, this ranch will practically be ours. Or at least, my share of it. You' ll get your piece too, cousin, don't you worry."

"And Uncle Robert?" Dylan asked.

"Your father will be so grateful when we cut him in, after we' ve secured everything through Ethan, of course. Ethan' s too soft, too sentimental. He' ll believe anything I tell him, especially now."

I leaned against the wall, the wood cool against my suddenly hot skin. The words hit me, each one a separate blow. My grief felt like a heavy cloak, but now, a different feeling pierced through it, sharp and cold, anger. The illusion of Brittany Carter, the girl I thought might still care, shattered into a million tiny pieces.