“I drafted the clauses for raising our kids myself,” I added. “I wrote in shared custody contingencies. No cutting me out of their lives. No exile or reallocation.” My throat tightened, but I kept going. “Everything that’s expected of me is on textured paper. Ink signatures. Finger scans on datapads. Everyone saw. Everyone agreed. It’s all very civilized.”
His eyes were dark enough to look almost black. “Civilized.”
“And I’m good at following rules. You proved that. I’ll make sure to tell Aurelio to thank you for the training.”
That one landed like shrapnel.
Something flashed across his face, hurt, anger, something. His shoulders rolled once, like he was trying to shrug off an invisible weight.
“He wouldn’t want to come near me,” Vince said, voice low and dangerous. “If he knew what I’m thinking right now, Marcellus wouldn’t set foot in this hall.”
“Relax, I haven’t told anyone I was your dirty secret.”
His head snapped a fraction. “You were not?—”
“Stop. It’s fine. There is no feelings left to be hurt.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. He didn’t. Maybe he realised, finally, that my version of events mattered more to my life than his intent.
“Are you done now?” I asked. “Can this conversation be over.”
“You mean say goodbye?”
“We did that three months.”
Something like panic flickered in his eyes. It was quick and ugly and gone before it could become anything as human as begging.
“Do you want it,” he asked.
I stared at him. “Want what. The marriage? The move? The dynasty breeding package?”
“The out,” he said. “Do you really want to go. To leave Villain. To leave…” He swallowed. “Me.”
“Yes. I want out of Villain,” I said, each word deliberate. “I want away from my mother. Away from your courts. From you. I don’t care what I have to sign to get it.”
His mouth tightened like I’d put a hand around his throat.
“Because I actually think something’s fucking broken in me,” I continued, the words scraping on their way out, “and maybe if I get away from this city, I can force the parts back together. Or at least rearrange them into something that hurts less.”
“There is nothing wrong with you,” he said, too fast. Too raw. “You’re perfect.”
“Okay,”
His eyes flared, like he hadn’t expected me to accept that so easily.
I turned, ready to walk. Ready to find a bathroom, lock the door, get the hell away from him.
He stepped forward and cut me off.
Directly in my path, that Crow wall he’d always been able to become when he wanted to keep something in or out.
“Move,” I said.
“No.”
“You can’t block exits at a summit,” I muttered. “It’s rude.”
“Then I’m rude. You want a goodbye? Fine. Say it.”
