"Decisions in her best interest?" Lucy's laugh is sharp and bitter. "You mean your control over her life?"
"I mean the carefully constructed security that keeps her alive." My voice drops to that tone that makes board members nervous. "You don't understand the threats she faces. The enemies who would use her, hurt her, destroy her to get to me. But I do. And I won't allow anyone—including well-meaning friends—to compromise her safety."
"This is insane," Lucy breathes. "You've completely isolated her."
"I've completely protected her." I straighten my cuffs. "Now, you have two choices. Accept the new communication protocols and maintain a supervised relationship with Eve. Or refuse, and lose access entirely. What's it going to be?"
Lucy's hands shake with rage, but I see the moment she realizes she has no power here. No leverage. No way to fight me and win.
"You're a monster," she whispers.
"Yes," I agree calmly. "But I'm her monster. And I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Even from the people who think they're helping her."
I walk to the door and open it. "My assistant will provide you with the contact protocols. Good day, Miss Page."
She leaves without another word, and I watch her go with cold satisfaction. Another thread severed. Another voice of dissent silenced.
Eve is mine, and the world is finally learning to accept that fact.
***
The call to Bjorn is brief.
"The Bryce Royston situation," I say into the phone as my driver navigates through afternoon traffic. "It's time to resolve it permanently."
"Sir?" Bjorn's voice is confused.
"I’ve been monitoring him, listening to him talking on his phone. He’s planning his next move against Eve, is even more set on destroying her now that he has nothing but time on his hands. He’s hired someone to kidnap her," I continue, watching the city slide past tinted windows. "So remove Bryce. Make it look like complications from his injuries. Clean. Untraceable."
"Consider it done."
I end the call and slip the phone back into my pocket. No guilt. No hesitation. Bryce Royston threatened Eve, and men who threaten what's mine don't get second chances.
It's simple pest control. Nothing more.
***
Eve is in the bedroom when I find her, standing in the doorway of the massive walk-in closet with a strange expression on her face.
"Is something wrong?" I ask, moving to stand behind her.
She gestures helplessly at the interior. Every piece of clothing she owns has been unpacked and organized with military precision. Her dresses hang in color-coordinated rows.Her shoes are lined up on custom shelves. Even her jewelry has been sorted and displayed in velvet-lined drawers.
Mixed among her things are new additions—pieces I've selected for her. Silks and cashmeres in jewel tones that will set off her coloring. Designer labels that whisper wealth and taste.
"You did all this," she says quietly.
"I wanted you to feel at home." I rest my hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Everything you need is here. Everything you could want."
She reaches out and touches a familiar green sweater, one of the few casual pieces she wears regularly. Seeing it hanging among the luxury feels like a small victory—her old life seamlessly integrated into her new one.
"It's perfect," she whispers.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. "You're home, Eve. Finally."
She doesn't pull away. Doesn't argue. Just stands there in my arms, staring at the perfectly organized closet that represents her perfectly organized new life.
Mine to dress. Mine to keep. Mine to protect.
