Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Victor
The sound of splintering wood echoes through the cabin as my worthless son kicks in the front door. Right on schedule. I've been expecting this moment since Patrick called last night to inform me that Aaron was fighting his way through the storm with the determination of a man possessed.
Perfect timing, really. Kyra's engagement ring catches the Christmas tree lights as she instinctively moves closer to me, and I feel a surge of satisfaction.
She's mine now, officially and completely.
Whatever pathetic last-ditch effort Aaron is about to make will only serve to cement her loyalty to me.
"Victor!" His voice carries through the cabin, raw with fury and desperation. "I know you have her! I know what you've done!"
I stand slowly, setting down my mimosa. Kyra looks up at me with wide eyes, fear and confusion warring in her expression. She still doesn't fully understand what she's committed herself to, but she's about to learn.
"Stay behind me," I command softly, my voice carrying the authority that's made men twice my size step aside.
Heavy footsteps pound across the hardwood floor, and then he's there—bursting into the living room like a man possessed.
My son, my greatest disappointment, looking like he's been driving through hell itself.
His clothes are wrinkled, his hair disheveled, snow still clinging to his jacket.
But it's his eyes that tell the real story—wild with desperation and the kind of manic energy that comes from a man who has nothing left to lose.
Those eyes take in the scene immediately. The rumpled couch where we were sitting. Kyra in her Christmas morning clothes, looking beautiful and claimed. And most importantly, the massive diamond glittering on her left hand like a declaration of war.
"No," he whispers, staring at the ring like it's a knife in his chest. "No, no, no. Tell me you didn't!"
"Didn't what?" I ask mildly, moving to stand beside Kyra. My hand settles possessively on her shoulder, and I feel her lean into my touch despite her obvious distress. "Didn't propose to the woman I love? Didn't claim what was always meant to be mine?"
"She was mine first!" The words explode from him, spittle flying. "I loved her first!"
"You threw her away," I correct, my voice cold as winter. "You broke her heart because you were too weak to stand up to a little pressure from daddy. Some love that was."
He flinches. The truth is often the cruelest weapon of all.
"You forced me to break up with her!" he shouts, taking a step into the room. "You threatened to destroy my life if I didn't!"
"And you folded like a house of cards," I point out with cruel satisfaction. "A real man would have told me to go to hell and fought for what he wanted."
"I was twenty-five!" Aaron's voice cracks. "You're my father!"
"Which is why I know exactly how weak you are." I pull out my phone, scrolling to Patrick's contact with deliberate slowness. "You made poor choices," I continue conversationally. "As you're doing now."
I cut him off by putting the phone to my ear. "Patrick? Yes, we have a situation at the cabin. My son has decided to become a problem that needs... permanent resolution."
The effect is immediate and exactly what I intended. Aaron goes completely still, his face draining of what little color remained. Kyra's sharp intake of breath tells me she's starting to understand the true scope of what she's committed herself to.
"No problem," Patrick's voice comes through clearly, professional and calm. "I'll be there in ten minutes with a cleanup crew."
"Make it five," I say, watching Aaron's growing terror with satisfaction. "And Patrick? Bring the tools. All of them."
I end the call and slip the phone back into my pocket with casual ease.
"You're insane," Aaron whispers, backing toward the door. "You're actually going to—"
"I'm going to protect what's mine," I correct. "By any means necessary. You should have stayed away, son. Should have accepted that you lost and moved on with your pathetic little life."
"I'm calling the police," he says, fumbling for his own phone with shaking hands.
"With what signal?" I ask with amusement. "Did you forget where we are? And even if you could reach them, what exactly would you tell them? That your father is engaged to your ex-girlfriend? That you broke into his property and threatened his fiancée?"
The realization that he's completely trapped, completely helpless, transforms his expression from desperation to something approaching real terror.
"Besides," I continue conversationally, "I have several friends in law enforcement. Very good friends who understand the importance of family privacy. They'd be far more likely to arrest you for trespassing than to investigate any wild accusations you might make."
"Kyra," he pleads, turning to her one last time. "Please. You have to see what he is. You have to understand—"
"I understand that he loves me," she says, and there's steel in her voice now. "I understand that he's willing to do whatever it takes to protect me. Can you say the same?"
We all know the answer. When I threatened him, he folded immediately. When pressure was applied, he crumbled. He's never fought for anything in his entire privileged life.
The sound of vehicles approaching through the snow cuts through the tension. Right on time. Patrick is nothing if not efficient.
"Ah," I say with satisfaction. "The cavalry arrives."
Car doors slam outside, followed by the sound of multiple sets of heavy footsteps on the porch. These aren't the polite, measured steps of dinner guests. These are the movements of men who handle problems for a living.
"Victor!" Patrick's voice calls from outside. "We're here!"
"Coming!" I call back, then turn to Aaron with cold finality. "Last chance to leave quietly and never come back."
"I'm not leaving without her," he says, trying to summon courage from somewhere.
"Then you're not leaving at all."
I start toward the door, but Kyra's voice stops me.
"Wait," she says, and there's something in her tone that makes me pause. "What are you going to do to him?"
"What needs to be done," I reply simply. "He knows too much, he's seen too much, and he's clearly not going to accept the new reality. Men like Patrick deal with problems like that very efficiently."
"You mean you're going to kill him." It's not a question.
"I mean I'm going to ensure that our privacy is protected," I say carefully. "That our future together isn't threatened by someone who can't accept that he lost."
The footsteps on the stairs are getting closer. Patrick and his team, coming to handle the situation with their usual professional thoroughness. In a few minutes, this will all be over, and Kyra and I can continue with our Christmas Eve celebration.
But she's looking at me with an expression I can't quite read, and I realize this might be the moment that defines everything between us. The moment where she truly understands what choosing me means.
"The men outside," I say quietly, "they've been with me for years. They're very good at making problems disappear completely. No trace, no questions, no complications. Just... gone."
"Like he never existed," she whispers.
"Exactly like he never existed."
Aaron is pressed against the far wall now, his face gray with terror. He understands exactly what's being discussed, exactly what his fate will be if I give the word.
"But," I continue, moving closer to Kyra, "you're going to be my wife. My partner in everything. So perhaps... perhaps this should be your decision."
The words surprise even me as I say them, but they feel right. She needs to understand the weight of the world she's entering, needs to make a conscious choice about who she wants to be.
"My decision?" she repeats.
"Your decision," I confirm. "He's your ex-boyfriend, after all. The man who broke your heart and threw you away. So you tell me, sweetheart—does he disappear permanently, or do we find another solution?"
The silence that follows is deafening. Aaron's ragged breathing, the sound of men moving around outside, the distant hum of vehicles idling in the snow—all of it fades into background noise as I wait for her answer.
This is the moment. The choice that will define not just Aaron's fate, but who Kyra truly is. Who she's willing to become for me.
The ring on her finger catches the light as her hand trembles slightly. She looks at Aaron, pressed against the wall in terror. Then at me, waiting with predatory patience for her decision.
And in that moment, I see something shift in her expression. Something cold and calculating that I've never seen before but recognize immediately because I see it in the mirror every day.
She's learning. Evolution in real time.
"I need a minute to think," she says finally.
"Of course," I say with satisfaction. "Take all the time you need, sweetheart. Patrick can wait."
But we both know the truth. The decision has already been made. Now she just needs to figure out what she can live with.
What she's willing to become for love.