Chapter Eighteen #2
We spend the afternoon at the cottage, watching my phone accumulate notifications, preparing for the battle ahead. At six o'clock, we take a taxi to the vet clinic to see Lucky.
He's awake and alert, tail wagging despite the uncomfortable cone and the IV. The vet tech smiles when she sees us.
"He's been asking for you. Well, whining for you, but same thing."
Lucky licks my hand, then Draco's, his whole body wiggling with happiness. We stay for twenty minutes, just being with him, reminding ourselves that this is real. This connection, this pack, this family we're building.
This is worth fighting for.
At quarter to seven, we walk into Father's office building in Midtown. The lobby is marble and glass, ostentatiously wealthy. The security guard recognizes me immediately.
"Miss Pembroke. Your father is expecting you."
The elevator ride to the fortieth floor is silent. Draco holds my hand. I focus on breathing.
When the doors open, Mother is waiting in Father's reception area. She takes one look at me—still in yesterday's clothes, hair hastily pulled back, no makeup—and her mouth tightens.
"You look a mess."
"I've been at the hospital with our dog." I keep my voice level. "Priorities."
"Indeed." She turns that assessing gaze on Draco. "You. In the conference room. Charity and I need to speak privately first."
"No." The word comes out firm. "Whatever you have to say, you say in front of him."
Mother's eyes narrow. "This is not a negotiation."
"You're right. It's not." I step closer to Draco, a united front. "We're a team. So either we all go in together, or we leave. Your choice."
For a long moment, I think she'll refuse. Force the confrontation right here in the reception area.
Then she turns on her heel. "Fine. But you're going to regret this stubbornness."
We follow her into the conference room where Father waits, tablet in hand, expression thunderous.
"Sit," he says, not looking up.
We sit. Draco's hand finds mine under the table.
Father sets down the tablet and finally meets my eyes. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Saved Lucky's life?" I offer.
"Destroyed your reputation." He turns the tablet around. On the screen is an article from a Manhattan society blog.
PEMbrOKE HEIRESS CAUGHT WITH MYSTERY MAN: Who is Charity Pembroke's Secret Boyfriend?
Below it, our photo. And another photo—someone must have been at the vet clinic, because there's a shot of Draco carrying Lucky inside, his face clear and focused.
"The press is going wild," Father continues. "Speculation about who this man is, where you met, how long this has been going on. Our phones are ringing nonstop. The board members are asking questions. This is a disaster."
"It's a relationship," I correct. "That's all. Two people who care about each other."
"Two people from completely different worlds." Mother leans forward. "Charity, be reasonable. You barely know this man. And now the whole city is watching, waiting to see what happens next."
"So let them watch." I lift my chin. "I have nothing to be ashamed of."
"You should be ashamed." Father's voice is hard. "Sneaking around, hiding relationships, dragging the Pembroke name through society gossip—"
"The Pembroke name survived worse than me dating someone you don't approve of."
"This isn't about approval—"
"Yes, it is." I interrupt, something inside me finally breaking free. "This has always been about approval. About control. About making sure I fit into the perfect box you built for me after Grace died."
Mother flinches. "Don't bring your sister into this."
"Why not? She's the reason for everything!
" I stand, unable to sit still anymore. "You lost her, so you locked me away.
Homeschooled me so I'd be safe. Limited my friends so I wouldn't get hurt.
Controlled every aspect of my life so you wouldn't lose another daughter.
But you did lose me. You just didn't notice because I was too afraid to leave. "
The room goes very quiet.
Father pierces me with his angry gaze. "Is that what you think? That we've been controlling you?"
"Haven't you?" I gesture between them. "Name one choice I've made in twenty-five years that you didn't approve first. One friend you didn't vet. One career path I chose without your input."
"We gave you everything—"
"Except freedom." My voice cracks. "You gave me safety and money and privilege, but you never gave me the freedom to choose my own life."
Mother stands. "And this is your choice? This man with no family, no prospects, no future?"
"His name is Draco." I turn to look at him, drawing strength from his steady gaze. "And yes. He's my choice. He's the first real choice I've ever made."
"Then you're making a mistake." Father's tone is final. Absolute. "And we won't support it."
"Fine." The word should hurt more than it does. "Then I'll support myself."
"With what?" Mother's laugh is sharp. "Your allowance? Your trust fund? All of that comes from us, Charity. You have no job, no income, nothing. If you choose him over us, you choose poverty."
"I have my art." I think of all those anonymous auction sales. All that money I've been saving. "And I have skills. I'll figure it out."
"You'll fail." Father says it with certainty. "You've never worked a day in your life. Never struggled. Never had to worry about money or security or survival. This fantasy you're building will collapse, and when it does, you'll come crawling back."
"Maybe." I look at Draco again, see him ready to fight beside me. "Or maybe I'll surprise you. Maybe I'm stronger than you think."
"If you walk out that door with him," Mother says quietly, "you walk out on everything. The family. The name. Your inheritance. All of it."
The ultimatum. I knew it was coming, but hearing it out loud still makes my stomach clench.
"I understand."
"Charity—" Mother's voice cracks. "Please. Don't throw away your life for someone you barely know."
“Not throwing it away.” My hand finds Draco’s. “Finally living it.”
We stand together. Walk toward the door.
"Charity Marie Pembroke." Father's voice stops us at the threshold. "If you leave now, there's no coming back."
I turn to face them one last time. My parents. The people who raised me and loved me and suffocated me in equal measure.
"I know," I say softly. "Goodbye."
Then I walk out, Draco beside me, and don't look back.
The elevator ride down is silent. Forty floors of free fall while my mind races with everything I just did. Everything I just gave up.
When we hit the lobby, Draco pulls me into an alcove, frames my face with his hands.
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know." Tears are streaming down my face, but I'm smiling. "I think I just disowned myself from my family."
"We can go back," he says urgently. "You can fix this—"
"Fixing isn’t the point." My hands fist in his jacket, anchoring myself. "Choosing is. And I choose this. You. A life that’s finally mine.”
He kisses me then, deep and desperate, and I kiss back with everything I have.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"What now?" he asks.
I think about the mansion I'll never go back to. The money I saved from sculpture sales. The cottage that's not really ours. The future that's suddenly terrifying and wide open.
"Now," I say, "we figure it out. I don’t know our long-term plan, but Lucky’s at the vet overnight.” I breathe deeply and straighten my shoulders. “I’m not stepping foot back on that property. Let’s get a hotel.”
Draco nods, already reaching for my hand. “Yes, my brave one. We’ll get a hotel. First? We’ll have to swing by the cottage and grab some essentials. Quick raid. In and out.”
We walk out into the Manhattan evening, hand in hand, free and terrified and choosing each other anyway.
Behind us, the Pembroke empire stands tall and untouchable.
Ahead of us, the whole world waits.