Becausethis—whatever this is between us, however twisted and complicated and born from darkness—is worth fighting for.
That's the difference. That's what makes this real instead of just Stockholm syndrome or trauma bonding.
Choice. I'm choosing this. Choosing him. Choosing us.
Every single day.
Two weeks after we arrive, Vaughn comes back from a trip to town with an expression I can't read.
He's been checking his encrypted email periodically when he can get signal—the satellite internet at the house is unreliable at best, so he drives into town every few days to use the coffee shop's wifi and handle business remotely.
Today he comes back with tension in every line of his body.
"What is it?" I ask immediately, setting down the book I've been reading. "What happened?"
"Message from my CFO. The Consortium made their move." His voice is carefully neutral, but I can hear the strain underneath.
My stomach drops like I'm falling. "What did they do?"
"They called in favors. Pressured three of my major partners to terminate contracts. Long-term deals I've had for years—just cancelled with thirty days' notice and penalty clauses that will cost me—" He pauses. Looks at me. "Probably millions of dollars. Maybe more once all the penalties and lost revenue are calculated."
"Oh my God. Vaughn, that's—I can't—millions of dollars?"
"It's manageable." His voice is still neutral. Too neutral. Like he's working very hard to stay calm. "I'll survive. The company will survive. It's a significant blow but not a fatal one. My CFO already has plans to offset some of the losses. We'll recover. Could have been worse."
"How can you be so calm? They just cost you millions, because of me! Because you chose me!"
"And I cost them their newest inner circle members," he says, finally showing some emotion—a flash of anger, of satisfaction, of vindication. "Cost them their spring showcase. Cost them the illusion of invulnerability. Cost them their secrets staying secret. We're even, as far as I'm concerned."
He crosses to me, pulls me into his arms despite my attempt to pull away. "Stop looking so devastated. Stop feeling guilty. This isn't your fault, Eden."
"How is it not my fault?"
"I lost millions of dollars because they're vindictive bastards who can't accept rejection. That's on them, not you. And fifty million is just money, Eden. Just numbers in accounts. I can make more money. I can't make another you. The math is incredibly simple."
"The math is insane. It's your life's work, your company, everything you built?—"
"Everything I built was supposed to serve a purpose. Supposed to make me happy, make me secure, make me powerful. But it didn't. You know what made me happy?Standing on that stage and telling them to go to hell. Choosing you over everything they represented. Walking out of there with you.Thatmade me happy. That made me feel powerful in a way the inner circle never could have. So stop apologizing for something that was entirely my choice."
"But—"
"The math is love," he interrupts gently. "And love has never been rational. If it were rational, I wouldn't have fallen for the woman I bought at an auction. I wouldn't have walked away from years of work. I wouldn't have made enemies of the most powerful men I know. But I did all of those things because love isn't about math or logic or protecting your assets. It's about choosing someone. Fighting for someone. Believing they're worth more than anything else you could have."
I bury my face in his chest, unable to stop the tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry they did that to you."
"Don't be sorry. Be here. Be with me. That's all I need. That's worth infinitely more than fifty million dollars or the Consortium's approval or anything else they could offer."
A month passes, then six weeks, then two months.
Time moves differently here than it did at the estate—slower, quieter, marked by the changing light on the mountains instead of training sessions and schedules and the countdown to a showcase that will never happen.
We settle into a routine that's nothing like what we had before.
Nothing like captor and captive.
Nothing like owner and acquisition.
Nothing like the twisted dynamic we started with.
