THE 30-DAYS CONTRACT WITH A BILLIONAIRE

SADIE SINCLAIR

My father never left the hospital unless the doctors made him, or he thought he was down to his final days.

When he asked to meet at the old race trail, I threw on sweats and ran, breathless, heart in my throat. I thought I’d find him collapsed or dragging his IV. Instead, he was sitting there in a damn suit, hands shaking as he tried to lift a paper cup to his lips.

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” I said as I rushed to his side. “Jesus, Dad. What if you...”

“I needed to see the track one last time,” he said, voice hoarse. “While it still belongs to us.”

My head thudded. “What do you mean last?”

He didn’t answer right away. He stared out at Silvermane Stables in the distance: the barns, the fences, the empty viewing deck. Then he placed the cup down, folded his hands in his lap, and looked at me, his eyes were brimming with tears. “I’m selling the estate, Sadie.”

The silence that followed was deafening. “What?”

“It’s the only option now. There’s nothing left. No sponsorships, no revenue. Just debt. More than we can even begin to cover.” His voice broke. “We lost the Gallahan deal. The Harringtons walked away. The board’s done. And the staff... some of them haven’t seen a paycheck in weeks.”

He exhaled slowly, eyes still fixed on the distance. “The bank’s circling. I’ve already begged them for more time. And the hospital bill, we’ve sold everything we can to keep up. We can’t anymore... I can’t.”

He looked up at me then, a single bead of tear rolled down his face, then another, and another. “I tried, sweetheart. God knows I tried.”

I blinked, sure I’d misheard him. “You can’t be serious. We’ve made it through worse seasons. We’re just down. That’s all.”

“We’re not down, Sadie. We’re drowning.” His voice dropped, quiet and tired. “And I won’t leave that mess in your hands when I’m gone.”

My knees gave way, and I sank to the bench beside him. “You always said you’d never sell.”

He didn’t answer right away.

So I looked at him. Really looked. He was thin, small, fragile. His suit hung off him like he’d borrowed it from the living. Like a skeleton trying to cosplay as a CEO.

It hit me then, the thing I’d been trying not to see for weeks. My father was dying, and he never gave up.

Not on Silvermane. Not on me.

So if he was giving it up now, then things were worse than I’d let myself believe.

“I never planned to get cancer either,” he said quietly.

I flinched.

Then I shook my head, my eyes blurring with tears. “So you’re just handing it over to someone who doesn’t know the horses? Someone who’ll bulldoze the tracks and turn this into a parking lot?”

My father looked down, quiet again. And that’s when I knew.

He wasn’t just selling.

He’d already found someone.

I pushed off the bench so fast, my head pounded at the force. I was shaking with anger, my eyes stung with tears.

“You’re a weak ass man,” I snapped. His head jerked like I’d hit him.

I didn’t stop.

“You promised me,” I hissed. “You fucking promised me, over and over again. You said we’d keep fighting. You said we’d never sell. You said this was ours as long as you lived...”

“Sadie...”

I threw my hand out, shaking. “No. Don’t you even fucking try to calm me. I stayed, remember? I stayed when the barns were empty. I stayed when I had acceptance letters from design schools I had to throw in the trash because you begged me not to go. You said we had something worth saving.”

He tried to stand, but his body barely moved. His hands were trembling harder. His chest was heaving. “I know what I said,” he rasped. “God damn it, Sadie, I know what I promised.”

“Then what the hell is this?”

“This is me trying to make sure you have a life when I’m gone.”

His voice cracked on the word gone, and it ruined me.

“I found a buyer,” he said, chest heaving. “A real one. Not one of those jackals who made an offer just to gut the place. He wants to keep it running. He has the money. Millions. Actual millions. Not just talk. He has plans.”

“You did this behind my back!”

“I had to. You would’ve fought me every step.”

I jabbed my index finger at him. “You’re goddamn right I would’ve!”

“I did everything I could,” he heaved. “I begged sponsors. I begged people to give us a chance. They all said no!”

“You should’ve told me!” I screamed. “You don’t get to make decisions behind my back. I gave up eight fucking years, Dad. You think I didn’t bleed for this place? You think I didn’t watch my own dreams rot just so yours could stay alive?”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know what you gave.”

“No you don’t,” I snapped. “You just decided it’s over. You’re giving it away. You’re not just letting go, you’re handing it to God knows who, and you didn’t even think I deserved a say.”

He was red now.

His face, his eyes, his chest.

His breathing sounded wrong. He slapped a hand against his ribs like he could knock the pain loose. “You think this was easy for me? You think I wanted to come out here, sit on this damn bench, and tell my daughter I’m failing her?”

“You’re not failing me,” I cried. “You’re erasing me.”

His hands shook violently as he reached for his water again. He couldn’t hold it. It spilled all over his lap, cold, soaking into the fabric, and he didn’t even flinch. His fingers just trembled like they’d forgotten how to close.

“I didn’t make the deal yet,” he said, steadying his breath. “I never would. Not without you. I swear to God, baby girl, I swear it. I’ve done everything I can. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry. You might hate me after you find out who it is.”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

“Who,” I whispered.

He didn’t answer.

The silence was loud. All I could hear was my pulse hammering in my head and his breath shaking in and out of him like the wind was trying to take it.

He reached for the cup again. It tipped straight onto his thighs. His hands were useless now.

“Dad,” My voice quivered. “Tell me.” His eyes lifted slowly.

His throat worked.

“It’s Cassian Wolfe.”