Page 35 of Broken Blades

She didn't. Just stood there. Trembling. Staring at him like he'd transformed into someone she didn't recognize.

"Dad—"

Harrington cut her off. Words clipped. Final. Brooking zero argument. "Do. What. You're told."

That landed different than my demand.

I watched the impact ripple across her face. Watched hurt replace confusion. Watched something fragile crack behind her eyes. Not because a stranger proposed something insane. But because her father—the man she trusted most in the world—just ordered her compliance without explanation. Without comfort. Without even pretending she had a say.

I filed that reaction away carefully. Turned it over in my mind. Examined the edges.

She loved him. Deeply. Wanted his approval more than she wanted almost anything else.

That was useful.

She sank slowly back into her chair. Movements mechanical. Face pale. Hands shaking slightly as she folded them tight in her lap again.

I finally let my gaze shift to her. Met those wide, wounded eyes. Let my expression soften just enough to communicate something that might look like sympathy if you didn't know better.

"One month," I repeated. Gentler this time. Reasonable. "Then this all goes away. Even makes sense."

Her lips parted. Breath coming quick and shallow. "I don't understand."

I tilted my head. Almost kind. "You don't need to."

"What exactly does 'stays with you' mean?" Harrington's voice cut through. Cold. Flat. Already negotiating because that's what men like him did when cornered.

I smiled. "She belongs to me."

I let the words settle. Watched Harrington's face turn to stone. Watched his daughter's breath catch in her throat.

"Any boyfriends? That ends now. She lives with me. We make this look real." I leaned forward slightly. "And the more real it looks, the better it is for your merger. If we look serious, committed, this isn't some tawdry hookup at a charity event. It's a relationship. Maybe even love."

The last word tasted like ash. Perfect.

Harrington's jaw worked. Grinding teeth. Calculating. His voice came out strangled. Tight with barely controlled rage. "What do you get out of this?"

I met his eyes. Let him see exactly what lived behind mine. Let the mask drop completely for just one breath. Long enough that he understood this wasn't business. Wasn't strategy. Wasn't negotiation.

This was personal.

"Knowing your special little girl is at my mercy."

His phone buzzed again. Insistent. Demanding.

This time he grabbed it. Stood abruptly. Chair scraping. He crossed to the far corner of the restaurant. Turned his back. Voice dropping low but urgent as he answered.

"Yes. I understand. No, it's—I'm handling it."

The words carried enough for me to hear the panic underneath. The pressure. The walls closing in from multiple directions at once.

Could hear Isabel's voice on the other end.

I clenched my jaw. The vengeful bitch.

I shifted my attention to Chastity. She sat there trembling. Hands clenched at her sides. Color drained from her face. Breathing shallow and rapid like someone trying not to hyperventilate. Eyes darting between her father's back and my face. Searching for something that made sense. Some explanation that would transform this nightmare into something manageable.

I just looked at her. Didn't smile. Didn't soften. Didn't pretend. Just assessed. The way you'd evaluate property before purchasing. Checking for flaws. Structural weaknesses. Places that might need reinforcement or careful handling.