“You didn’t need to be.”
My father’s palm hit the table. The force made the tablet’s projection ripple for a fraction of a second.
“She is not an object.”
Vincent finally spoke. “She is the merger.”
The tone was calm. Detached. Almost bored.
His eyes stayed on the table, not on me, as if he was discussing a port acquisition instead of my life.
Something cold slid through my ribs.
My father’s voice rose. “You expect the Thornes to sit quietly while you strip our dynasty of everything tied to her?”
Nikolai placed a folder on the table with surgical precision. Followed by a datapad with the crow crest.
“Not strip,” he said. “Absorb. It’s legal under Pillar law.”
Absorb.
The word turned my stomach. Stripping implied you could rebuild. Absorbing implied you vanished.
Uncle Zeke’s gaze dropped to the folder like he wanted to light it on fire. “We want joint rights to her inheritance. The trade portfolio, the water rights, the Caelus contracts?—”
“No,” Nikolai eyes flicked from Zeke to my father.
“You don’t even know the value of?—”
“We know,” Damius cut in. “And we won’t negotiate.”
Uncle Cole leaned forward. “If you take everything tied to her name, the Thorne footprint in Villain disappears.”
Damius lifted a brow. “Correct.”
My father dragged in a breath. “You destroy our dynasty with this.”
A thin ringing started behind my ears.
He doesn’t care.
He doesn’t see me.
All I could see was his profile—the calm line of his jaw, ring on his hand, perfect control closed around him like armor. Six months of silence.
“We want joint lineage rights. If she has heirs, the Thorne dynasty will retain claim.” Uncle Zeke wasn’t finished.
Nikolai shook his head once. “No.”
“Then reduce the number of heirs. Six is unacceptable. She is not a broodmare.”
A thin annoyance crossed Damius’ expression—less offense, more inconvenience.
“Your discomfort is irrelevant. Crow succession requires six.”
My father’s chair scraped again as he stood. “Are we supposed to let you breed her like livestock?”
The word breed hit me.
