Chapter 24
LENNOX
I unpack my bag in Sebastian’s bedroom, working on autopilot.
Jeans in the drawer. Shirts hung in the closet beside his expensive button-downs and suits. Toiletries in the bathroom that still smells like him, cedar and leather, and something darker I can’t quite name. Each item put away feels like another brick in the wall I’m building around myself.
The only defense I have left.
My hands are steady. My face is dry. I cried all the tears I had during the walk back to the house, and now all I have left is the cold, hollow acceptance of exactly what my life has become.
Seven hundred and nine.
I can survive seven hundred and nine days of anything. People survive worse. Prisoners in actual jails. Hostages. Women in situations far more dangerous than being married to a wealthy man who bought them at an auction.
I just have to stop hoping it will be anything other than what it is.
Stop fantasizing that the man who kissed me gently under the oak trees is real.
Stop believing that riding together to recover cattle means we are building something beyond this fucked-up power dynamic.
Stop being stupid enough to think that Sebastian Drake is capable of seeing me as anything other than property he paid for.
The monster is real. The gentle moments were an illusion.
I need to remember that.
I finish unpacking and sit on the bed—his bed, not ours, never ours—and look around the room.
Stone walls that have stood for over a century.
Windows overlooking the ranch operation I briefly thought I could be part of.
Furniture that’s expensive but comfortable, chosen by someone who actually lives here instead of just displaying wealth.
This could have been home.
What if I’d come here as a wife instead of a purchase, what would life be like? If Sebastian had been a husband instead of an owner. If any of this had been real instead of a two-million-dollar transaction.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out, half-expecting it to be Sebastian with more threats, or more reminders of my place.
Instead, it’s a text from an unknown number.
Unknown
This is Eleanor. Are you alright?
I stare at the message. Eleanor Drake is checking in on me? Probably gathering intelligence for the family. Probably making sure I haven’t cracked completely and become a liability.
But the gesture, even if it is strategic, makes something in my chest loosen slightly.
Me
I’m fine. Thank you for asking.
Three dots appear, disappear, appear again.
Eleanor
I don’t believe you. But I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. Just know that Walker’s accusations were out of line. You’ve done nothing but help this family since arriving.
I read the message three times, looking for the trap, the manipulation, the hidden agenda. But find none. Just what looks like genuine support.
Me
Thank you. That means more than you know.
Eleanor
Walker is many things, but when he’s hurt and scared, he lashes out at the nearest target. Sebastian should have defended you. I’m sorry he didn’t.
The acknowledgment—that Sebastian failed me, that I had every right to be hurt—nearly breaks through my carefully constructed wall.
Me
I appreciate you saying that.
Eleanor
Come to the main house for lunch. We can talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.
Me
I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Sebastian made it clear I’m supposed to stay here.
The three dots take a long time.
Eleanor
Sebastian doesn’t control where you eat lunch. Unless he’s become even more of a bastard than I raised him to be. 1 p.m. I’ll have the cook make something that isn’t beef for a change.
Despite everything, I smile.
Me
I’ll be there. Thank you, Eleanor.
Eleanor
You can call me Elle. Everyone does except Walker, who insists on formality because he’s stubborn like his father.
I set the phone down and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Trying to figure out how I’ve ended up here. A month ago, I was in California, working at a resort and living a quiet life. Then Janie’s confession. The auction. Sebastian’s two-million-dollar bid.
I should have known better. Should have seen this coming. A man who’d pay that much for a woman at an auction isn’t looking for a partner. He’s looking for property he can control. Use. Own completely.
The gentle moments were aberrations. Mistakes. Brief glimpses of something that can never really exist between us because the foundation is rotten.
I won’t forget that again. Won’t let myself hope that he is more than what he just proved himself to be—a monster who threatens worse treatment if I don’t obey.
Who reminded me I’m property when I try to have any autonomy.
Who stood by while his father accused me of treason and then used my contract as a weapon when I reacted.
This is my reality. The sooner I accept it, the sooner I stop fighting it, the easier the next two years will be.
* * *
Sebastian hadn’t returned from the hospital when it was time for me to have lunch with Eleanor. Thank God for small mercies.
Eleanor meets me at the door herself, no staff hovering, just her in casual slacks and a blouse.
“Lennox.” She looks me over with sharp eyes. “You look terrible.”
“Thank you. That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.”
“I’m not here to coddle you. I’m here to feed you and possibly give you advice you don’t want.” She gestures for me to go inside. “We’re eating in the conservatory. It’s the only room in this house where I don’t feel like I’m being watched.”
I follow her through marble hallways to her glass sanctuary. A small table has been set up with lunch: sandwiches, salad, fruit, and what looks like homemade lemonade. Food that doesn’t require effort to eat when your appetite is gone.
“Sit.” Eleanor pours lemonade into crystal glasses. “Eat. We’ll talk after.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes. I manage half a sandwich and some fruit before giving up. Eleanor watches me with those cold eyes that miss nothing.
“Sebastian called me an hour ago,” she finally says. “Told me you’d be staying at his house instead of moving to the bunkhouse. He said it was your decision.”
“Did he?”
“He lied, obviously. I know my son. I know when he’s using control to cover his inadequacy.” She takes a sip of lemonade. “What did he threaten you with?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. Because depending on what he said, I need to know whether to have a conversation with him or have my lawyer file emergency injunctions.”
I look up. “You’d go against your own son?”
“I’d go against anyone who abuses someone under my roof.
Family or not.” Eleanor’s voice is steel wrapped in silk.
“I’ve been married for forty-five years, Lennox.
I know what it looks like when a man uses power to compensate for being a shitty husband.
So tell me. What did Sebastian threaten you with? ”
The words come out before I can stop them. All of it. The contract. The threats. The reminder that I’m property he can treat however he wants to if I disobey. The cruelty wrapped in legality.
Eleanor listens without interrupting, her face growing colder with each sentence.
When I finish, she sets down her glass with a soft click.
“That stupid boy,” she says quietly. “He’s become exactly what I was afraid he’d become.”
“What’s that?”
“His father.” She stands and moves to water an orchid that doesn’t need watering. “Walker and I married the same way you and Sebastian did. I told you that.” She turns, and I nod.
“I was seventeen and needed a way out of my life. I’m from Chicago originally, and my family, well, let’s just say there are worse things than being a Drake. Growing up as the daughter of a mafia don is by far worse.” She walks back to the table and takes a seat.
“Walker was twenty-five and the head of the marriage auction at that time. Much like Sebastian, he orchestrated but never participated until me. He saw me, looked over my file, and realized how beneficial I could be to him. I’d run away from my family, and I needed protection.
Back then, the auctions were easier to get into if you had the right connections.
I’d fallen into some trouble trusting the wrong people, and the auction had been whispered about in my circle, so I sought it out.
” She reaches for her lemonade and takes a sip.
I look at my mother-in-law and see the young mafia princess she was.
Coming to Texas and being bought by a rough-and-tumble cowboy must have been a culture shock.
The grand house that doesn’t seem to fit all of a sudden makes sense.
The dislike of being near the cattle, wanting to have more of a home that shows off who she is, it’s all coming together.
“For the first seven years, he treated me exactly the way Sebastian treated you this morning, like property he’d acquired. Something to control, to use, to dominate.”
“What changed?”
“I left.” Eleanor turns to face me. “Took Nathaniel and Sebastian and moved into town. I told him I wouldn’t come back until he learned to treat me like a partner instead of a possession.
It took him six months. Six months of living separately, six months of people in this community knowing we were apart, and of him realizing what he’d lose if I actually left, before he figured out how to be a husband instead of a dictator. ”
“And you came back?”
“I did. Because he proved he could change. Could see me as more than just someone to smile on his arm. He respected my autonomy while still being part of a partnership.” She turns and grabs a bottle of wine off the table behind her and pours a glass for each of us.
“But it took him losing me first. Facing the real possibility that I’d leave and take half his life with me before he understood what he was destroying. ”
“I can’t leave. The contract I signed won’t allow that. You were years into your marriage.” I shake my head. It all seems so simple, but in reality, it’s anything but.