Her words then came hard and fast. "How long, Viktor? How long were you following me?"
I didn't answer right away, but silence was power. I let her anger echo off the walls. My gaze lifted to her face, and I knew she wanted the truth. But she didn't understand what truth meant in my world.
"You really picked the worst time to make an entrance," I said slowly.
She glared. "Don't play games, you had me watched, spied on, like I was... property."
My jaw flexed; she wasn't wrong after all. She wasn't right either.
I leaned forward, elbows on the table, with my eyes locked on hers. "Property?" I echoed. "No, leverage."
Her breath caught, and the word hung heavy in the air. She shook her head, stepping back. "So that's what I was to you, a debt, a pawn on your chessboard."
Her voice cracked, but it was anger, not weakness. "Don't twist it," I said, with a calm tone. "I needed to make your father pay, and you were the way."
Her laugh was bitter. "So you admit it. You had me watched, followed, and hunted like prey. And then you took me, you didn't even try to deny it."
I studied her; she expected lies... she expected me to hide behind excuses, but instead, I told her the one thing that would upset her footing.
"Yes," I said. "I watched you."
Her lips parted, no sound coming out. I pushed the folder closer to her, the pictures sliding across the table. "I saw you before you knew my name. I watched the way you smiled at strangers. The way you moved when you thought no one was looking." My voice dropped lower. "I knew you before you ever walked into my house."
She trembled, fury and something else mixed behind her eyes. "Why?" She whispered.
My fingers tapped the table once. "Because you were leveraged, and leverage is power, Emilia."
Her shoulders stiffened, and her hand curled into a fist. She wanted to scream, to fight, to throw those pictures in my face. But I didn't let her. I instead leaned closer, and my voice cut through her silence.
"And I don't regret it." The room tightened with the weight of it, and her chest rose and fell fast, her lips pressing tight like she might break.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "You don't regret watching me like an animal? Following me? Using me?"
My eyes locked on hers, cold and unyielding. "No, because leverage brought you here. To me."
The silence between us burned, and she looked down at the photos again, her fingers brushing over one where she was laughing, sunlight in her hair, and she swallowed hard.
I let her have the moment, let her feel the truth sink in. Then, I said it, slow and deliberate. "Yes, I watched you. You were leverage."
The words struck, and she froze. Her breath caught like a blade to get ribs. And I didn't look away.
*************
Minutes after, her voice was still echoing in the room. "You were leverage."
She said it like a curse, like the word itself poisoned her tongue. So, I leaned back in my chair, my fingers tapping the table once, calm and controlled. I had learned long ago that truth, when dropped sharp enough, could cut deeper than any blade.
"Yes," I said. "You were leverage."
Her eyes widened, furious and hurt. Confusion was written all over her face. She then gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing holding her steady.
"You used me," she whispered.
"Of course," I answered, with no shame and no apology.
She shook her head, taking a step back. "You admit it? Just like that?"
I studied her, and she thought I would deny it. She thought I'd try to dress it up as something softer. But softness has no place in my world.
