Then I remember. The way I use him, too. The rebellion I get from being ruined by him, dragged down from my pedestal into snow and sweat and something real. The thrill of watching my father's world crack every time Nico touches me.
He's not the only one being unfair.
The anger dies in my throat.
"You don't want my world, Nico," I say finally, voice quieter now. "You just think you do."
"You don't get to tell me what I want."
"And you don't get to drag me back into a cage because you're curious."
His face changes. "That's not fair."
"None of this is fair." My hands shake. "If you go to that dinner, it won't end there. He'll own you. Your contract, your career, every decision. All of it tied to being the perfect—" I can't finish.
"The perfect what?"
"Son-in-law. Brand ambassador. Moreau asset." The words taste bitter. "It's the same cage I've been in my whole life, and I can't watch you walk into it."
"You don't know—"
"I do." I turn away, stare at the ugly beige wall. "I can't do it. I won't."
"But you wanted this." He turns away, runs a hand through his hair. "You posted the photos, you dragged me to that party, you made us public. And now you're backing out?"
"I'm backing out because I don't want to watch him turn you into something you're not."
I walk to him, cup his face, force him to look at me. His eyes are angry, confused, and I don't understand why. I'm the one risking everything here. But I can't fight him and the rest of the world at the same time.
"You belong on the hill, Nico. With the cowbells and the fans and the wildness. Not in marble rooms with men who think of you as an asset. If I bring you there, you'll hate me for it. And I'll hate myself."
Silence.
The anger on his face shifts. Not gone, but something else sliding underneath. Something heavier.
"So what did you tell him?" His voice is quieter now, careful.
"That I'd do the dinner." I swallow. "But I'm not going back. I left. I have some money saved. Seven thousand euros. I'll find a flat, I´ll get by."
"For how long?"
"A month or two, maybe three if I'm careful."
He just looks at me. His jaw works like he's biting back words.
"And then what?"
"I don't know." The admission burns. "My Eiswerk job is done. I'll get more influencer contracts, maybe freelance PR. I just need time—"
"Élise." He says my name like it hurts. "Do you have any idea what things cost?"
Heat crawls up my neck. "I'm not stupid."
"I didn't say you were." His hands drop. "But seven thousand doesn't last long. Rent, food, bills, gas. It goes fast."
"I know that."
"Do you?" There's no cruelty in it, just exhaustion. "You just lit your whole life on fire for me, and I don't think you've counted the cost."
