Swallowing the lump in my throat, I lower myself onto the only remaining chair right in the center of the room. Two security guards stand at my back, McGill on one side of my front and the doctor onthe other. Then, front and center is the man who took responsibility for his kin by throwing them aside. The structure of the setup is imposing, like they’re trapping a bird to kill it rather than harmlessly interrogate it.
“Stop slouching.”
My back snaps ramrod straight.
“And fix your tie.” My grandfather’s lips turn in disgust. “I warned you not to cause any more trouble.”
He can’t control you anymore, I tell myself. Soon I’ll be graduating and ditching the curse of the Whitlock name.
Still, that doesn’t stop me from sitting up straighter than I usually would. There’s something empowering about knowing that beyond those doors, there’s someone in my corner. Well, I hope he still is. The knowledge seeps strength into my skin.
“When has your warning been able to change my entire personality—”
“You speak when I tell you to speak.” My grandfather cuts me off. “Exercising your own sensibilities is a waste of this earth’s resources.” I grind my teeth together as red dots my vision. “Stay away fromboththe Osman boys. You were lucky the good one of the two brothers decided to come to me first. Had it been their father, you would be in averydifferent position.”
I blink. Wait. What? “If the—”
“What did I just say, Marie?”
“I’m going to speak if I want to,” I growl. I did the math before talking to Kiervan, and I decided whatever their father wanted to do to me was worth the risk. “If the point of this was to make me stay away from him, why the hell did you make me his buddy the first day he was here?”
With slow, deadly calmness, my grandfather turns his head towards McGill. “You paired my granddaughter with thatboy?”
He hesitates, moving his lips like he’s running through all the excuses he can make. “It was a—a request made by Mr. Osman to…” McGill clears his throat. “On the first day, he wanted me to reintroduce the two in the hopes of discovering what kind of relationship they have, and…” He shifts in his seat.
“And?” my grandfather prods.
McGill’s beard twitches. Mr. Fifth-Divorce never stood a chance against my grandfather—the owner of the most prominent investment banking company on the East Coast. “He hoped her reaction would be extreme enough to garner proper institutionalization.”
“What you’re saying is you have conflicting interests.”
“No.No,” McGill rushes to say. “I assure you, Mr. Whitlock, it was a onetime occurrence that will never happen again.”
“I assume I don’t need to explain the consequences of ithappening again.” Grandpa cocks a brow and grabs the crystal tumbler from the side table.
McGill flattens his hand over his cheap tie. “No, no need.”
Prickles go down my spine when my grandfather’s attention settles back on me.
“It appears that threats do not work in convincing you to behave. Perhaps a bribe will instead.” He pauses to take a sip of bronze liquid. The crystal glass clinks as he places it back on the side table. “You have no money to your name. No home waiting for you at the end of this. Keep your filthy hands away from that family, and in six months’ time, I will give you $100,000 dollars.” When I do nothing but stare at him blankly, he continues. “If your behavior costs me a contract with them, I will ensure you never know amoment of peace in your life.”
A contract? What contract? When did the Osmans and the Whitlocks start doing business together?
“So,Marie, you will do what you must—break that boy’s heart if you have to. All I know is that youstay away from them. I took care of you when your own mother didn’t want to. It’s the least you can do.”
I take one breath.
Two.
The third one is the deepest, stretching my lungs to maximum capacity. Then, my lips stretch into a smile. “Are you”—I push onto my feet—“fucking kidding me? Who thefuckdo you think you are? You, your money, and not a single fucking word out of your mouth meansshitto me. I’ll be stuck in this place for another month, and after that, there’s nothing you can do to me. I’m out. I’m free. Your threats are empty, old man.”
“Are they?” The raise of his brows unsettles me enough to make me sway.
“You don’t own me.”
“Don’t I?” he says cooly. “It appears there was some miscommunication at some point. Thisfreedomyou speak of was never made for you.”
“Spit it out.” I breathe hard through my gritted teeth.
