The sun cast long shadows over the fields. The horses moved in steady rhythm, but the conversation carried a weight that made the air feel thick.
She exhaled. "Okay. Who's next grandpa?" Truth be told, being the youngest Wilder, this was her first time knowing more about the other four families than just knowing their names and a few basic.
The old man adjusted his grip on the reins, his smirk shifting into something colder. "The Beaumonts."
Her brow furrowed. "The old-money Beaumonts."
He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, kiddo. They are old money. But more than that? They are war."
Her stomach twisted. "What does that even mean?"
The old man let out a breath, long and slow, like he was measuring his words before letting them escape. "The Beaumonts," he mused. "Now that's a name you don't say lightly."
Her brow furrowed. "How so?"
He glanced at her. "You ever wonder who really runs America?"
She blinked. "…The government?"
