“It’s foolish you still think you have a say in our damn lives.”
Nathan’s voice cuts through the heavy silence like a blade—sharp, raw, and utterly unafraid.
The room stills. The Duke rises slowly, his spine straight, chin raised, eyes narrowing like a hawk circling prey.
“Excuse you?” he says, voice low, laced with quiet menace.
I glance at Nathan, heart in my throat. He’s not backing down. Not even close. His jaw is set, fists clenched at his sides, but his stance is straight. My stomach twists. He's furious, but he's in control. For now.
“You heard me.” He doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t look away. “I’ve had enough of you pulling the damn strings. I’m not your puppet, and I sure as hell won’t let you use me to polish your legacy. Is that why you dragged me back? To chain me up again with your bullshit ideas of duty and honor?”
The slap comes like a gunshot. Sudden, jarring, loud.
I flinch, a gasp escaping me before I can stop it.
Nathan doesn’t move. Doesn’t touch his cheek. Doesn’t even react. He just stands there, breathing hard, like he’s spent years waiting for this moment.
“Gabriel!” the Duchess rushes to his side, her voice strained, eyes wide. She places a hand on his arm, whispering something I can’t hear.
Nathan holds his ground. His hands are now tucked behind his back in that classic military position, but I see it—his fingers trembling, knuckles white. He’s not as calm as he looks. He’s holding himself together with sheer willpower.
God, he’s breaking. And I can’t just stand here.
Before I can second-guess myself, I’m moving. I step up beside him and reach for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. His skin is warm and shaking under mine.
He jerks, startled, and turns to look at me.
His eyes are wild—burning with anger, betrayal, pain. But the second he sees me, all of it starts to fade. His breath catches. His shoulders drop just slightly, and he blinks like I just pulled him out of a storm.
And maybe I did.
“You know, Izzy,” Grace continues, her tone calculated to soothe, “when we talked to your parents about our tradition, they were surprised. But they knew that Nathan would be your safe haven, your rock, and so it turned out. Growing up together, your bond strengthened even more.”
I blink rapidly, staring at her in disbelief. She speaks of this madness as though discussing weekend plans or menu selections, her serenity in the face of our obvious distress so disconnected from reality that I momentarily question my own sanity. “We had a very unique bond, and I can’t deny it, but we were children.” The emphasis feels important—a demarcation between then and now, between choice and coercion.
“The bond is still there, Isabel, I know it.” She approaches with the cautious movements one might use with a frightened animal, taking my hand in hers and squeezing gently. “It can be seen from your complicity, the way you look at each other. How both of you seek for each other.” Her gaze shifts meaningfully toward Nathan, and following her direction, I catch him watching me with an intensity that sends heat flooding my cheeks.
“You decided our future twenty-four years ago!” I whisper, stepping backward to break her hold. The enormity of their presumption staggers me anew. “Don’t you think that the choice of whom we want to spend our lives with is up to us? Who knows, maybe we would get to know more or even date, but all this wasn’t possible because you sent us away.” My words tumble out with increasing speed, propelled by years of suppressed resentment.
I pace the perimeter of the room, too agitated to remain still. The need for motion, for physical expression of the turmoil within, overwhelms me. Nathan remains oddly silent, his eyes tracking my movement.
“We had to do it. It was right.” Grace’s serene certainty is maddening.
I whirl to face her, hands clenched at my sides.
“Right for whom?” we both ask in unison. Nate’s voice is more of a grunt.
“For you two,” she replies without hesitation, returning to her husband’s side like a queen resuming her throne.
“For us? Are you kidding me?” Incredulity sharpens my voice to a dangerous edge. “Nathan was the only sure thing I had in this world, and you snatched it from me! So, tell me, where is the justice in making me feel alone and abandoned by everyone?” From the corner of my eye, I notice Nathan moving toward me, but he halts as my father’s temper finally snaps.
“That’s enough, Isabel!” Dad’s command reverberates through the room, crystal figurines trembling on their shelves.
“No, it’s not, because you did worse, Dad!” I point an accusatory finger, years of repressed anger erupting like magma through cracks in the earth’s crust. “After Mom died, you isolated yourself in your perfect world, sending me away!”
He shakes his head, frustration evident in the tight lines around his mouth. “We did things only in your best interest.”
“Oh, please!” I throw my hands up, disgust twisting my features. “Enough with this fake goodness! You did the best thing for you, getting rid of us, and now not only have you forced us to come home, but you’re planning our lives too! It’s unbelievable!”
