Chapter 25
SEBASTIAN
I stare at Lennox, her ultimatum hanging in the air between us like a swinging blade.
Every instinct I have screams to assert dominance. To remind her of the contract, the money I paid, the legally binding contract that makes her mine regardless of what she wants. To back her against the wall and fuck compliance into her until she remembers her place.
That’s what I was taught. That’s what generations of men in my family did when their wives got uppity, when women tried to claim power they weren’t supposed to have.
But looking at her now, eyes blazing with defiance and hurt, every line of her body screaming that she’d rather destroy herself than submit, I see something I didn’t let myself see before.
She means it. She’d leave. She’d find a way to break the contract, face legal consequences, ruin herself, just to get away from me. Because what I’m doing to her is worse than any of that.
“I don’t know,” I finally say.
“That isn’t good enough,” she whispers, the hope draining from her eyes.
“I don’t know if I can be what you want.
What you need.” I move past her, putting distance between us before I do something stupid like pull her to me and kiss her, or toss her over my shoulder and take her to bed.
This isn’t the time for my need to take over.
“I was raised by a man who treated my mother like property for years. Who taught me that control equals strength, that dominance equals love, that owning something completely is the only way to keep it.”
“That’s not love, Sebastian.”
“I know that now. I figured it out eventually. But the conditioning runs deep, Lennox. Even though my father changed the way he treated Mom, he made sure we knew what the expectation was.”
“So you’re telling me you won’t change?”
“I’m saying I don’t know how.” I turn to face her. “This morning, when you tried to leave, my first instinct wasn’t to ask why or try to understand. It was to force compliance. To remind you that I’m in control. To threaten you into submission because that’s what I know how to do.”
“And you think that excuses it?”
“No. It explains it. There’s a difference.
” I lean against the kitchen counter, suddenly exhausted.
“My father built an empire by being ruthless. By never showing weakness, never backing down, never letting anyone, especially a woman, question his authority. It worked for him. Made him wealthy and powerful and feared.”
“It also made him a bastard who nearly lost his wife.”
“Yes. It did.” I run both hands through my hair.
“Then you know it’s possible.”
“For him. Maybe. But I’m not my father, Lennox. Maybe I’m worse.” The admission hurts. Silence. She stares at me, and I can’t read her expression.
“Is that what you think?” she finally asks. “That there’s nothing between us except transaction?”
“I hope not.”
She moves to the window, looking out at the ranch.
“This morning, recovering the cattle, I thought maybe there was something here, a potential that could grow. Partnership? Mutual respect? The foundation for something that could survive two years and come out the other side as—I don’t know. Friends, at least.”
“And now?”
“Now I think I was delusional. That I wanted so badly for this to be survivable that I invented a version of you that doesn’t exist.” She turns back.
“The man who showed me the ranch, who let me work cattle, who fucked me in the barn like we were celebrating a win together, that wasn’t real.
The real you is the one who threatened me this morning.
Who reminded me I’m property. Who stood by and allowed his father to accuse me of selling out your family. ”
“Both versions are real.”
“Then which one am I married to?”
The question shouldn’t hit as hard as it does. Because she’s right, I’ve been showing her two different people. The husband I thought I might want to be and the man on the power trip I’ve been trained to be. And this morning, when tested, the power won, when the husband should have understood.
“I want to be the first version. The man who treats you like a partner. But when I feel control slipping, when you defy me or try to leave or challenge my authority, the second version takes over automatically.”
“Then we have a problem. Because I can’t live with that version for two years. I won’t.”
“Even if it means breaking the contract? Facing legal consequences?”
“Even then.” There’s no hesitation in her voice. “I’d rather deal with lawyers and money problems than slowly lose myself to your abuse. You’ve been treating me just like your dad treated your mom.”
The words land like physical blows. Because she is right, I’ve been telling myself it’s just enforcement, just maintaining the agreement we’ve both signed. But the truth is much uglier.
I’ve been using the contract, my power, her lack of options, to control her completely. “I don’t want to be like him,” I say quietly. “I swore I’d never treat a woman the way he treated Mom all those years. And here I am, doing exactly that.”
“Then stop.”
“It’s not that simple, Len.”
“Yes, it is.” She crosses to me, and I see exhaustion in her eyes now. Not just from today, but from everything since the auction. “You make the choice. You decide if you’re going to be the monster or be the man. It really is that simple.”
“And if I choose wrong? If I fuck up?”
“Then I call you on it, and you try again. That’s what a partnership looks like, Sebastian. It’s not perfect, you’re not going to get it right every time. Just keep trying, and choose to be the better version of yourself more often than the worse one.”
I look at her—this woman I bought, who worked her way into my everyday without even trying. Who’s standing here offering me a path forward when she had every right to just walk away and never look back.
“Why?” I ask. “Why give me another chance after this morning? After I proved I’m exactly the monster you feared?”
“Because I got to see the other version. The one who took me to town and showed me the ranch with pride. Who trusted me to recover the cattle. Who fucked me in the barn but still made me feel important.” She pauses.
She moves closer. “I’m not asking for love, Sebastian. I’m not asking for romance or fairy tales. I’m just asking that you treat me like a human being. Like someone whose thoughts and feelings matter. Can you do that? Or should I start looking for a lawyer now?”
The ultimatum is clear. Change or lose her. Become something better or watch her destroy herself trying to escape.
And despite everything, despite the contract, despite the money, despite the ownership I’ve claimed, I realize I don’t want to lose her.
Not because she’s my property. But because somewhere in the last few weeks, she’s become someone I actually respect.
Someone who challenges me, impresses me, makes me want to be better than I was raised to be.
Lennox was more than just a wife; she proved that she was a helpmate, someone who was willing to be by my side, to make us be successful, so why was I unable to accept that help?
“I’ll try,” I say finally. “I can’t promise I’ll get it right. Can’t promise the monster won’t come out when I’m scared or angry. But I’ll try to choose the better version more often than not.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
We stand there for a long moment, neither moving, both exhausted from the day’s battle.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “For this morning, for not defending you and for being an asshole.”
“I don’t want apologies. I want actions.” But her voice softens slightly. “Show me you can be better. Prove it through your choices.”
“Starting when?”
“Starting now.” She moves past me toward the bedroom. “I’m going to take a shower and then sleep for twelve hours. You can join me or not, it’s your choice. But if you do, you sleep beside me like a supportive husband, not like I’m just a body you take from. Can you do that?”
It goes against every instinct I have. The urge to claim her, to assert dominance, to remind her body who it belongs to is overwhelming. And I think about Lennox’s ultimatum. Change or lose her.
“Yes,” I say. “I can do that.”
“Good.” She disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the shower start. I stand in the kitchen, staring at nothing, trying to process what has just happened.
I pull out my phone and text Mom.
Me
You told her about the contract loopholes.
Three dots appear almost immediately, before the phone rings.
“Yes. And I’d do it again. Someone needs to give that girl weapons to fight back with,” she says without saying hello; it’s just down to business.
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I grumble, fully aware I sound like a child.
“I’m on the side of not watching my son destroy his marriage the way your father almost destroyed ours. Learn from his mistakes, Sebastian. Or lose everything like he nearly did.” And as suddenly as she called, she hangs up on me.
I stare at the phone, wanting to call back, but I put the phone away and walk to the bedroom.
Through the bathroom door, I can hear water running.
My imagination runs wild to a naked Lennox standing under the spray, trying to wash away this entire day, and I long to have her in my arms again, to sink myself deep in her and show her that I can be who she wants me to be.
Instead of barging in and interrupting her shower just to quench my need, I change into sleep pants, leave my shirt on, and lie down on my side of the bed. The shower eventually stops and Lennox emerges in an oversized T-shirt, her hair wet, her face scrubbed clean.
She looks at me for a long moment, checking to see if I’d actually keep my word.
“You’re wearing a shirt,” she observes.
“Less temptation to touch you if there’s a barrier.”
Something like amusement flickers across her face. “That’s considerate.”
We lay there in the dark, two people who were violently intimate hours ago now separated by eighteen inches of mattress and a chasm of broken trust. And I realize this is going to be harder than anything I’ve ever done.
Not fucking her. Not owning her. Not controlling her, but actually being a partner. An equal. Someone she can trust not to weaponize power when things get hard.
I close my eyes and try to sleep, hyperaware of her presence beside me, of the careful distance she is maintaining, of the trust I’ve destroyed and will have to rebuild molecule by molecule.