Elara glanced at me. “Terrified?”
“Of losing a group of idiots you call family,” my mother clarified. “It’s a valid fear, but it is resolved by one simple thing: stop protecting them.”
Elara recoiled, as if the truth had teeth.
“You are shielding them from consequences,” Vivienne said. “From failure. From themselves. And in return, they give you misery. That is not family, Elara. That is bondage.”
“I’m not terrified of losing them,” Elara said softly, her hands tightening. “I’m terrified of disappointing my parents. They raised me to be loyal. To honor commitments. Even when it hurts. Even when it costs.” Her voice cracked. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”
Something in my chest tightened. A dark question flickered:Did she see me the way she saw them? Another obligation?The thought dried out my throat. If she ever stayed with me because she thought sheowedme for those three years, I couldn’t bear it.
Vivienne’s tone shifted, a faint undertow of empathy beneath the steel. “My dear, your parents taught you loyalty. They did not teach you servitude.”
Elara inhaled sharply.
“Loyalty,” Vivienne continued, “is given to those who protect you as fiercely as you protect them. What you are doing for the Ashworths is penance. You loved your parents; they birthed you and taught you. You didn't bury yourself with them when they died, so why are you letting the Ashworths bury you alive in a life you never chose?”
“They need me,” Elara whispered. “And I can help. My parents… they’d tell me to help.”
“Would they tell you to sacrifice your dignity, health, and your entire future to clean up after grown adults who treat you like a workhorse?”
Tears dropped from Elara’s eyes. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
“Your parents gave you their values,” Vivienne said, reaching across to pat Elara’s hand—a startlingly maternal gesture. “The Ashworths took advantage of them. That is not your shame, Elara. That is theirs. We’re going to fix this company, and then we’re going to get you away from these vultures for good.”
Elara nodded, unable to speak. I watched the weariness in her eyes begin to dissipate.
I moved quietly to the foyer, pulling on my coat. My mother’s eyes flicked to me.Make it count.
“Where are you going?” Elara asked.
I walked over, cupped her face, and kissed her forehead. “To have a conversation,” I murmured. “I’ll be back for dinner.”
I slipped out. The elevator descended in silence. Quinn was waiting in the car.
“Where to, boss?”
“The Ashworth estate.”
Chapter 25
Julian
Quinn glanced at me from the driver’s seat, one hand draped over the wheel. “You sure you don’t want me to handle it?”
His voice was mild, almost bored, but the offer underneath was not. Everyone thought Quinn was just a friend—the man who showed up at my birthdays and blended into the background like expensive wallpaper. But Quinn was an ex-SEAL, a bodyguard my mother had hired the day I graduated high school. A contingency plan. Nobody knew the things he’d done for me. That was the point.
“This sounds beneath you, Julian. Let me take care of it.”
“If I wanted him hospitalized,” I said, flexing my hand against my thigh, “you’d be the first person I called.”
Quinn smirked. “Then what do you want?”
I looked through the windshield at the Ashworth estate—a mausoleum of mediocrity. “To look him in the eye,” I said softly, “and make sure he understands the new rules of the world he’s about to live in.”
I got out, the cold morning air biting through my coat. I walked past Elara’s custom black wagon, parked carelessly on the crescent drive. Something dark and possessive curdled in my chest. He let his mistress use her car. Her space. Her things.
Noted.
