Fighting the surrender.
Fighting the acceptance of what she's become, what she's becoming, but she's losing that fight.
And we both know it.
The question isn't whether she'll submit.
It's how long she'll keep pretending she has a choice.
Breakfast is tense.
The dining room feels too large, too formal for just the two of us.
Eden sits across from me in her usual spot, showered and dressed in jeans and a soft gray sweater that makes her eyes look more green than brown.
Her hair is damp, pulled back in a simple ponytail.
No makeup.
Just clean skin and haunted eyes that won't quite meet mine directly.
She picks at her food with mechanical precision.
Takes small bites of eggs.
Nibbles at toast.
Drinks her coffee like it's the only thing keeping her upright, like the caffeine is the only reason she's functioning at all.
Mrs. Silva hovers near the sideboard, concerned. She's worked for me for thirty years and she's never seen me bring a woman home, never seen me with anyone long-term.
This situation must be confusing for her, though she's too professional to ask questions.
"Is everything all right, dear?" she asks Eden gently. "You're not eating much. Should I prepare something else? Perhaps some fruit or yogurt?"
"I'm fine," Eden says quietly, her voice flat. "Just tired."
"Of course. You had quite an ordeal yesterday. Running through those woods in the cold. I'm just glad Mr. Sutherland found you safe before anything terrible happened."
The irony of that statement isn't lost on either Eden or me.
Her jaw tightens but she doesn't respond, doesn't correct Mrs. Silva's assumption that being found was a good thing.
Mrs. Silva pats her shoulder maternally and leaves us alone, disappearing into the kitchen to give us privacy.
I set down my newspaper, fold it precisely. "We need to discuss your decision."
"What decision?" Eden's voice is carefully neutral.
"The one I gave you last night. Train with me willingly for the showcase, or I make every choice for you until you break. You need to choose. Now."
She stares at her coffee cup like it holds answers. "That's not a real choice."
"It's the only choice you have. The only one I'm giving you. Everything else is already decided."
"What if I refuse both options? What if I just... don't cooperate at all? What if I fight you every step?"
"Then I'll make you cooperate. And you won't enjoy the process nearly as much as you would if you chose to submit willingly. I can be patient, Eden. Or I can be brutal. Your choice."
