Suddenly, the doors flew open.
“ALASTAIR! WHAT IN GOD’S NAME!”
Mr. and Mrs. Ashworth stood frozen in the doorway. Behind them, Brielle peeked out with ghoulish delight. This bitch was loving everything that was happening.Mr. Ashworth moved first, grabbing his son’s wrist. “Have you lost your mind? You were going to hit her?” He manhandled Alastair out of the room.
Brielle stepped in, a smug smile on her lips. “You should just let him go. You’re just... in the way.”
Her words were meant to be poison, but they meant nothing to me. My gaze shifted to the only person left who mattered, Mrs. Ashworth.
“Is that what you think, too?” I asked.
She wrung her hands. “Elara… when we married you to him, we had expectations. We hoped you would be a… a calming influence. A steady hand to help him.”
A handler.
Not a daughter. Not a wife. A human shock absorber for their dysfunctional ass son. The truth of my entire life in their world crystallized.
I looked from Brielle’s smug face to Mrs. Ashworth’s guilty one. Without another word, I turned and walked out.
I passed the study, where Mr. Ashworth’s voice rumbled. “You fix it with Elara. She is the only reason—” I didn't stay to hear the rest.
The Uber was still waiting. As it pulled away, I watched the dark silhouette of the estate retreat. Only then, in the moving darkness, did I let a single, silent tear fall. It was for the girl I used to be.
It was the last tear I would ever shed for the House of Ashworth.
Chapter 18
Julian
Zurich was cold. The hotel we were staying in overlooked the silver ribbon of the Limmat River and the spires of the old town—a perfect metaphor of old-world money and modern-world vice. Being able to expand there would be perfect. The Europeans weren’t like us Americans; they didn't need fantasy. They wanted the future of intimacy, clinically engineered.
They wanted dildos that didn’t just vibrate—they anticipated. They wanted pressure-responsive silicone and sensors that mapped arousal. They didn’t care about lace or packaging; they cared about performance and they’d pay a lot for it. It was a market my mother was determined to break into.
We’d been negotiating all day. I’d told my mother to rest while I handled the final meeting with LuxePartout, a distribution conglomerate...
We’d been negotiating all day. I’d told my mother to rest while I handled the final meeting with LuxePartout, a distribution conglomerate. Their representative was a surprise.
“Julian Hale. A pleasure.” Seraphine Moreau extended a hand, her smile too large. We’d known each other at Le Rosey, the Swiss boarding school for the globally over-privileged. She was tall, blonde, and typical in my circle.
“Seraphine. I didn’t realize you were with Luxe.”
“Recently appointed Head of Special Acquisitions,” she said. “Father thought it was time I took a more… hands-on role.”
Dinner at the hotel’s Michelin-starred restaurant followed. Seraphine wanted to flirt more than do business. I kept redirecting her. “My focus is on business,” I said when she offered me a house in Malmö to visit.
“Ah, yes,” she purred. “I heard a rumor. A mysterious American heiress. It must be serious to keep the legendary Julian Hale on such a short leash.”
“It’s not a leash. It’s a choice.” I set my glass down with a definitive click. “The exclusivity clause is non-negotiable.”
I excused myself to the restroom to splash cold water on my face. The image of Elara—likely in my shirt, reading on the sofa—calmed me. I texted her:Thinking of you. Back tomorrow.I didn’t expect a reply; it was the middle of the night for her.
Returning to the table, I found my wine glass refilled. I took a long swallow, hoping to get through the final hour. Fifteen minutes later, a wrongness began to creep in.
A disconnect between my thoughts and the room. A flush through my skin. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs.
What the hell?
“Julian? You look pale,” Seraphine’s voice was distant and syrupy.
