"Yes. In fact, the clock started two days ago. So it's too late to walk it back."
He takes the folder from my hands and puts it back into his desk drawer. The click of the drawer closing sounds final.
"There’s no need to panic. Everything's taken care of. All you have to do is build the life you want with my son and hang in there, even when he's an idiot. I'll make sure he knows how important your happiness is. This will work out for you."
I'm fucking spiraling so hard I can barely stand. This is a disaster.
He opens another drawer and removes a square black box. He slides it across the desk.
"One last gift."
My eyes fall on it and stay there.
"Your car isn't appropriate anymore. My assistant picked up your new one today. White Audi Q8. Top of the line. The key fobs are inside."
"I don't want..." I swallow. "I can't accept this."
"You already have."
My head snaps up.
His expression doesn't change.
“Asher can't know about this. About the conditions. No one can. That includes your sister. You may tell her that I paid off the loan so that your monthly payments no longer include interest. But otherwise, you will stay silent until the five years are up," he says.
In this situation, silence is no different than lying. But I'm trapped.
"You’re accepting the car because Asher saw me bring you in here and he will expect me to give you something. A car will satisfy him." His expression tells me there's no use arguing. And honestly, at this point, the car is the least of my problems.
"Okay. Thank you," I say. The words taste wrong. I am thankful for none of this.
"No, Julie." Dean's gaze holds mine. "Thank you."
I don't know what to do with that.
"I truly didn't think he could pull it off."
"Pull what off?"
The look on his face is more pity than pride before it smooths out into his usual mask. "Find someone appropriate."
The word lands between us. Appropriate. Like I'm a skirt of reasonable length.
"By the time you crossed my desk, I'd long since given up on him," Dean says. "For the first time in his life, my son truly surprised me."
Crossed his desk. The phrase sticks somewhere sharp. What the fuck does that mean? He says no more. Just turns and heads for the door.
The sound of laughter and conversation drifts in from the hall when he opens it. Then he's gone.
I stand there alone in his office, trying to process everything that just happened. In under ten minutes, he reshaped my entire life. Not for the better.
Dean Stevens didn't give me security. He found the one thing I would never abandon, tied a rock to it and then wrapped a weighted chain around it for good measure.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
JULIE
