47. Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Seven
Dacre
I lick the blood from my swollen lip as I’m whipped back into a chair.
“I thought you could hit harder than that,” I spit.
“All you need to do is sign it.”
I did technically sign his papers. Then destroyed them. Again.
I’ve been provided a small table and chair to complete the paperwork for the marriage contract, but not only is it the only leverage I have here, but I refuse to go back on my word to Emma. I can’t have her believe for a second that I’m going to do what my grandfather says.
They can’t keep me here forever. Or maybe they can. This is a test to see how far they’ll go.
“Your father was trouble.”
That sentence has plagued me since Liam spoke it. What kind of trouble? The kind that would make him bad for the family? If this is how I’m punished for being “trouble,” how was my father treated as the son?
“She’s moved on. You’re wasting your time.” Liam hands me a towel to wipe my face and some water. He’s pulling his punches. I’m not sure whether it’s because of his age or because he feels guilty.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your scent-match signed up for the Donor Gala.”
I nearly choke on my water. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“Apparently, you don’t know her as well as you thought you did. It was her idea.”
Her idea? The only reason she would join the gala is if she felt as if she had to. This must have to do with her sister’s contract. She would do it for her sister.
“What did you do?” I ask. There has to be more. “What did my grandfather tell her?”
“She was worried about you, so he showed her a video of you and your fiancée together to prove you were safe. I see why you like her so much.”
My voice lowers. “How?”
He must mean, the office footage from the night of the dinner, when my grandfather insisted I talk with her to save face.
Emma wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between an old recording in a different office. She thinks I left and went through with the arrangement. I grit my teeth and keep my thumb firmly on my pen. I should jab it in his neck.
No. I need a better opening. If I fight now, he might tie me up, and that fucks with my whole plan.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s moved on, and now you should, too. The next time I place these papers in front of you, I expect you to sign them. No more games.”
Games. The only one playing games here is my grandfather, and he’s not playing fair, so I won’t play fair either. I have a lifetime of knowledge of family habits, business dealings, and secrets.
He thinks he can thrust me into this box, into submission, but it’s the opposite. It solidifies my resolve. When I get out of here, I’m going to burn this empire to the ground.