His lips press into a thin line. And then, in an instant, he schools his expression into something cold. Unmoved. Stepping closer, he reaches into the inside of his jacket pocket. For a flicker of a second, my body tenses—old, trained fear clenching in my ribs.
But all he pulls out is a sleek black leather wallet. And then, without a word, he pulls out a single hundred-dollar bill. I go ice cold. I know what this is. I’ve seen him do this before.
He holds it between two fingers and extends it toward me, expression unreadable. “This is my final gift to you. I suggest you use it wisely.”
I don’t move. The paper barely shifts between his fingers.
Luca exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head like I’m a silly little thing making a silly little mistake.
Dad tilts his head. Waiting.
I let the silence stretch. I let the insult settle. I let my father believe, for one final second, that I am small.
And then I reach forward.
Grab the bill.
I rip it in half.
Luca actually looks surprised, but my father doesn’t blink. Doesn’t react. The man who’s supposed to love me,protectme, just stares at me like I’m already a ghost.
“Fine.” My voice is flat. “I’ll go.”
He lifts his chin. “Don’t bother coming back.”
I exhale, steadying myself. I fold the last twenty-six years into a tight, locked box inside me.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
And then I walk out with my fists clenched but my chin up. I make it five steps down the hall before I hear Luca’s footsteps behind me.
Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
He’s enjoying this.
I don’t stop walking. I don’t look back. I keep my focus on the double doors that lead to the main hall—I have to get to my bedroom and pack a few things before I exit toward freedom. But Luca grabs my wrist before I can wrap my fingers around the door handle. My pulse ricochets against bone. I’m not surprised because my body has been trained for this.
The pressure isn’t hard enough to leave a mark—he’s too careful for that—but hard enough that I know he could. Hard enough that my body locks up, every instinct screaming.
“You really think you can just walk away?” His voice is smooth, almost amused.
I yank my arm. “Let me go.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he tugs me an inch closer. His grip is warm, calloused, strong. The grip of a man who’s never once doubted his own power.
“Relax, Minnie. You’ll get used to the way I touch you.” His smirk deepens. “But right now, we need to have a talk.”
I glare at him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He laughs, and I stare at his big, dumb face. I want to punch him in it.
“Sure, there is. Like how you’re going to be a good girl and stop all this nonsense. Like how you’re going to get your assback upstairs, put on that little black dress I like, and start acting like a real fiancée.”
A slow, sickening chill spreads through my limbs.
“Luca,” I warn. “We are not engaged.”
He tuts. Like I’m some misbehaving child.
