I walk out of the office, my bare feet silent on the floor. I need to get out of the apartment. I need air.
I walk into the living room. Malcolm is sitting on the sofa, the book resting open on his knee. He looks up as I walk in, his dark eyes instantly catching the panic on my face.
He drops the book and stands up. "Audrey?"
"I need to go for a walk," I say, my voice cracking. I don't stop moving. I walk past him, heading straight for the foyer.
"Audrey, stop." He catches my arm before I can reach the front door. His grip is firm, but not bruising. He turns me around to face him. "What happened? You are hyperventilating."
"My mother called," I gasp, the words tearing out of my throat. "She saw the news. She got the letter about the debt."
Malcolm’s jaw tightens. He understands instantly.
"She asked for money," he states, his voice dropping to a cold, absolute register.
"She always asks for money." I pull my arm out of his grip, wrapping my hands around my waist. "She thinks because I’m marrying you, I have an endless supply of cash to fix hermistakes. It’s never going to stop, Malcolm. Preston was right. I am a liability."
"Do not ever repeat anything my father said to you," Malcolm orders softly, stepping into my space. He reaches out, framing my face with his hands. "You are not a liability."
"You don't understand." A tear spills over my lashes, hot and humiliating. "If I give her money, she’ll gamble it away. If I don't give her money, she’ll go to the press. She’ll tell them I abandoned her. She’ll ruin the narrative."
"Let her."
I blink, staring up at him. "What?"
"Let her go to the press," Malcolm says, his thumbs wiping the tears from my cheeks. "Let her tell them whatever she wants. I do not care about the narrative anymore, Audrey. I care about you."
He drops his hands from my face, sliding them down to grip my wrists. He pulls my hands away from my waist, forcing me to uncross my arms.
"You spent your entire life trying to manage other people’s chaos," he murmurs, his dark eyes burning into mine. "You tried to fix Simon. You tried to fix your mother. You tried to build a perfect, untouchable image so no one could see the cracks."
He steps closer, the physical heat of his body anchoring me to the floor.
"You don't have to fix anything anymore," he says quietly. "If she calls again, you block the number. If she goes to the press, we ignore it. You are not responsible for her choices."
"It’s not that easy," I whisper, my voice breaking.
"It is exactly that easy." He leans down, pressing a hard, grounding kiss to my forehead. "You are my wife, Audrey. In three days, it will be a legal fact. You are a Vance now. And the only person you are responsible for protecting is yourself."
I close my eyes, the absolute, terrifying weight of his words settling deep in my chest.
He is right. I am not the girl who has to answer the phone anymore. I am not the girl who has to apologize for things she didn't do.
I open my eyes, looking up at the man who burned his world down to save me.
"Okay," I breathe, the panic finally receding. "Okay."
Malcolm doesn't smile, but the fierce, protective tension in his shoulders drops slightly. He pulls me flush against his chest, wrapping his arms securely around my back.
"We are not going for a walk," he murmurs into my hair. "We are going back to your office. You have a floor plan to finish."
I let out a wet, shaky laugh, burying my face in his shirt.
"You are a tyrant," I whisper.
"I am efficient," he corrects softly.
He turns me around, keeping his arm anchored around my waist, and guides me back toward the guest wing.
