"I don't need your protection."
"Maybe not. But you have it anyway."
She stands abruptly. The book falls from her lap. She doesn't pick it up.
"I don't want this," she says. Her voice shakes. "I don't want you. I don't want to be here. I don't want to have conversations about trust and safety with the man who bought me at an auction. I just want?—"
Her voice breaks.
"I just want my life back."
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
Because I can't give her that.
Can't undo the auction.
Can't send her back to before Sarah found her.
Can only offer her this.
This house. This life. This cage disguised as luxury.
"I know," I say quietly.
I stand.
She takes a step back automatically.
I stop. Hold up my hands. Non-threatening.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Eden."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"Then what are you going to do?"
I take a breath. Decide to be honest. Completely honest.
"I'm going to be patient," I say. "I'm going to give you space. I'm going to let you set boundaries and I'm going to respect them. And eventually—not tomorrow, not next week, but eventually—I'm going to show you that you're safe here. That I'm not like the men who tried to control you before."
"How?"
"However long it takes."
She's staring at me. Searching my face for the lie. For the trap.
"What if I never feel safe with you?" she asks.
"Then I'll have failed. But I'll still keep trying."
"Why?"
"Because you're mine to protect now. And I don't fail at things that matter."
"I'm not yours."
