"You mean omega claiming." The words taste like ash in my mouth. I know about it, of course. Everyone does. But I never thought... our family has money, status, protection...
"I mean settling a debt," he corrects smoothly. "Though the end result is much the same."
I look at Father, waiting for him to refuse. Waiting for him to stand up and throw this monster out of our house. Waiting for him to choose his daughter over his ships.
But Father won't meet my eyes.
"This is insane," I say, my voice growing stronger with anger. "I'm not some commodity to be bartered away. I'm a person. I have rights?—"
"You have value," Lord Aratus interrupts, and something in his tone makes my skin crawl. "Considerable value, as it happens. More than enough to clear your father's debts and ensure his shipping empire remains intact."
"I won't do it." I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. "Whatever arrangement you think you can make, whatever claim you think you have—I refuse."
"Sit down, Elise." Father's voice is quiet, but there's something in it that makes me obey before I can think. "Please."
I sink back into my chair, suddenly understanding. Father isn't going to refuse. He's not going to choose me over his business. He's already decided.
"How long?" I ask quietly. "How long have you known this was coming?"
Father finally meets my eyes, and I see genuine grief in his expression. "The loans came due six months ago. Lord Aratushas been... generous in allowing extensions. But there are limits to even Fae patience."
"So you've had six months to figure out another solution, and this is what you've come up with? Trading your daughter like livestock?"
"It's not trading," Lord Aratus says, his voice carrying an odd note of something that might be sympathy. "It's transformation. You'll be cared for, cherished, given everything you could ever want. Many consider it an honor to be chosen by the courts."
"Chosen," I repeat flatly. "You mean claimed. Transformed against my will. Made into something I'm not."
"Made into what you are," he corrects, and there's something in his eyes that makes my breath catch. "What you've always been, underneath the performance."
The words hit me like a slap. Because somehow, impossibly, they resonate. The emptiness, the restlessness, the constant feeling that nothing in my perfectly ordered life actually fits—what if it all means something I've never understood?
No. I won't let him twist this into something romantic or destined. This is debt collection, pure and simple.
"I need to think," I say finally. "This is... this is too much to process."
"Of course." Lord Aratus stands in one fluid movement, winter following him like an obedient pet. "Your father has until dawn to make his decision. Choose wisely, Edgar. Some debts can only be paid one way."
He moves toward the door, but pauses to look back at me. "For what it's worth, Miss Montgomery, fighting this will only make it harder. Your body already knows what your mind hasn't accepted yet."
"What are you talking about?"
His smile is beautiful and terrible. "Haven't you noticed the cold doesn't bother you anymore? Haven't you wondered whynothing in your human world has ever felt quite right? Why you destroy beautiful things and hurt people who don't deserve it?"
I stare at him, my heart pounding. "That's not... I'm not an omega. I would know. There are tests, medical examinations?—"
"Tests designed by humans who don't understand what they're looking for." His smile is sharp, knowing. "Your body recognizes me, Elise. Even now, you're fighting the urge to move closer instead of away. Fighting instincts you don't understand."
"You're wrong." But even as I say it, I'm aware of a strange pull toward him. Like he's a fire and I'm cold, drawn to warmth I shouldn't want. "I'm not... I can't be..."
"We'll see." He stands gracefully, but instead of moving toward the door, he settles into a chair by the fireplace. Making himself comfortable. "I'll wait here while your father considers his options. Dawn gives us several hours to... discuss terms."
The words send ice through my veins. He's not leaving. He's staying here, in our house, while Father decides whether to sign my life away.
"You can't just wait here," I protest. "This is our home?—"
"Built with my gold," he reminds me pleasantly. "I have every right to be here. In fact, I have every right to be anywhere I choose within these walls."
Father hasn't said a word since Lord Aratus revealed the debt. Just sits there staring at his hands, calculating. I can practically see him weighing the numbers—six million dollars against one daughter. Ships and warehouses and twenty years of work against the girl he raised.
