"This isn't about approval—"
"Yes, it is." I interrupt, something inside me finally breaking free. "This has always been about approval. About control. About making sure I fit into the perfect box you built for me after Grace died."
Mother flinches. "Don't bring your sister into this."
"Why not? She's the reason for everything!" I stand, unable to sit still anymore. "You lost her, so you locked me away. Homeschooled me so I'd be safe. Limited my friends so I wouldn't get hurt. Controlled every aspect of my life so you wouldn't lose another daughter. But you did lose me. You just didn't notice because I was too afraid to leave."
The room goes very quiet.
Father pierces me with his angry gaze. "Is that what you think? That we've been controlling you?"
"Haven't you?" I gesture between them. "Name one choice I've made in twenty-five years that you didn't approve first. One friend you didn't vet. One career path I chose without your input."
"We gave you everything—"
"Except freedom." My voice cracks. "You gave me safety and money and privilege, but you never gave me the freedom to choose my own life."
Mother stands. "And this is your choice? This man with no family, no prospects, no future?"
"His name is Draco." I turn to look at him, drawing strength from his steady gaze. "And yes. He's my choice. He's the first real choice I've ever made."
"Then you're making a mistake." Father's tone is final. Absolute. "And we won't support it."
"Fine." The word should hurt more than it does. "Then I'll support myself."
"With what?" Mother's laugh is sharp. "Your allowance? Your trust fund? All of that comes from us, Charity. You have no job, no income, nothing. If you choose him over us, you choose poverty."
"I have my art." I think of all those anonymous auction sales. All that money I've been saving. "And I have skills. I'll figure it out."
"You'll fail." Father says it with certainty. "You've never worked a day in your life. Never struggled. Never had to worry about money or security or survival. This fantasy you're building will collapse, and when it does, you'll come crawling back."
"Maybe." I look at Draco again, see him ready to fight beside me. "Or maybe I'll surprise you. Maybe I'm stronger than you think."
"If you walk out that door with him," Mother says quietly, "you walk out on everything. The family. The name. Your inheritance. All of it."
The ultimatum. I knew it was coming, but hearing it out loud still makes my stomach clench.
"I understand."
"Charity—" Mother's voice cracks. "Please. Don't throw away your life for someone you barely know."
“Not throwing it away.” My hand finds Draco’s. “Finally living it.”
We stand together. Walk toward the door.
"Charity Marie Pembroke." Father's voice stops us at the threshold. "If you leave now, there's no coming back."
I turn to face them one last time. My parents. The people who raised me and loved me and suffocated me in equal measure.
"I know," I say softly. "Goodbye."
Then I walk out, Draco beside me, and don't look back.
The elevator ride down is silent. Forty floors of free fall while my mind races with everything I just did. Everything I just gave up.
When we hit the lobby, Draco pulls me into an alcove, frames my face with his hands.
"Are you okay?"
