"It's not like that—"
"Then what is it like, Eve?" Her voice cracks, and it breaks something in me. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you made some kind of deal with a man none of us know, a man with enough power to destroy Fred Greyhound in forty-eight hours, a man who now controls your company and apparently you along with it."
The accuracy of her assessment stings. I want to deny it, but how can I when it's true?
"He's not controlling me," I say, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.
"No?" She pulls out her phone, scrolling quickly before turning the screen to face me. "Then explain this."
It's a news article. Bryce's accident. But Lucy scrolls down to a sidebar—a smaller story about Fred Greyhound's sudden fall from grace, the SEC investigation, the fraud charges.
"And then there's the textile supplier who mysteriously dropped you," she continues, her voice tight. "I did some digging. They got bought out by a holding company three weeks ago. Want to guess who owns that holding company?"
My blood runs cold. Of course she figured it out. Lucy is brilliant, and she knows me better than anyone.
"Eve, please." Her voice softens, and when I open my eyes, I see fear there. Real fear. Not for herself—for me. "Pleasetell me you see what this is. He's not saving you. He's isolating you. First, your business relationships, then your company, now you're living with him—"
"He's protecting me," I say quietly, hating how defensive I sound.
"From what? Threats he probably created himself?" She grabs my hand, and her grip is desperate. "This is textbook manipulator behavior. Create the crisis, then swoop in as the savior. Make you dependent on him so you can't leave."
"You don't understand—"
"Then help me understand!" Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and it makes my chest ache. "Help me understand why my best friend is defending a man who's systematically destroyed her independence. Why you're choosing him over everyone who actually cares about you."
The question hangs between us. A street vendor calls out, offering hot dogs. A jogger passes by. The world continues, oblivious to the chasm opening between us.
Because I don't have a choice, I want to say. Because he's taken every other option off the table. Because my company is failing, my suppliers abandoned me, my reputation is in ruins, and he's the only one offering a lifeline. Because I'm drowning and he's the only hand reaching down, even if that hand is the same one that pushed me under. Because if I hadn’t taken his offer, Lucy would have most probably been out of a job.
But I can't say any of that. Lucy wouldn't understand. How could she, when the choice between survival and freedom isn't really a choice at all? When saying no to Nathan means losing everything I've built, everything I am?
"I'm sorry," I whisper instead, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry I can't explain it in a way that makes sense. But I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing."
Even though I don't. Even though I'm just choosing the least terrible option from a menu of catastrophes he created.
But I can't say that either.
"Do you?" She searches my face, and I have to look away. "Because it doesn't look like it from here. It looks like you're drowning and calling it swimming."
I stand, pulling my hand from hers. The loss of contact feels like tearing. "I have to go."
"Eve—"
"I'm sorry, Lucy. I really am."
I walk away, leaving her on that bench, and the distance between us feels like miles instead of feet. My eyes burn with tears I won't let fall.
She doesn't understand. No one would. The prison Nathan built for me is lined with silk and safety, and I'm too tired to want my way out.
But losing Lucy—that hurts more than I expected.
***
Nathan is in his study when I return to the penthouse, his attention focused on whatever financial reports glow on his screen. He looks up when I enter, his expression shifting from concentration to something warmer.
"How was your meeting with Lucy?" he asks casually, as if he didn't know exactly where I was and what we discussed.
The question ignites something hot and reckless in my chest.
