23. Gabriel’s Ultimatum
Gabriel's Ultimatum
He found me in the greenhouse at dusk.
I'd been hiding there for hours, surrounded by the orchids that reminded me of his mother, the glass walls that held back the cold. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and the LED grow lights hummed softly above the flowers.
I heard his footsteps before I saw him—slow, hesitant, the footsteps of someone who wasn't sure he was welcome.
"Monika."
I turned. Gabriel was standing in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed. He looked like he hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, hadn't done anything but think about what he was about to say.
"Gabriel," I said. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you."
I nodded, patting the bench beside me. He sat, but he didn't touch me. He kept his hands in his lap, his gaze fixed on the flowers.
"I'm leaving," he said. "I've been accepted to a medical school across the country. Stanford. I'm going to start in the fall."
The words landed like stones in still water. I felt them ripple through me, spreading outward, touching everything.
"That's wonderful," I said. "That's everything you've wanted."
"I know." He turned to look at me, his eyes dark and earnest. "I want you to come with me."
"Gabriel..."
"Wait. Just—wait. Let me finish." He took a breath, steadying himself.
"I've been thinking about this for weeks.
About us. About this family. About everything that's happened since my father walked into that diner.
And I've realized that I can't stay here.
I can't be part of this world anymore. It's killing me, Monika. It's killing you."
"I'm not—"
"You are. I see it. The light in your eyes is dimmer than it was when I first met you. You're fading, piece by piece. And if you stay, there won't be anything left."
I opened my mouth to argue. Closed it. There was nothing to say.
"We can start over," he said. "No Mire. No empire. Just us. I'll be a doctor. You'll go to vet school. We'll find a small apartment, a place with a garden, and we'll build a life together. A real life. One that isn't built on blood and women."
He reached for my hands, his fingers warm and steady.
"I love you, Monika. I've loved you since the first moment I saw you.
And I know—" His voice cracked. "I know you've been with my father.
With my brother. I know you have feelings for them.
But they're not good for you. They'll never be good for you.
They'll use you and break you and leave you in pieces.
But I won't. I'll love you. I'll take care of you. I'll never hurt you."
I felt the tears building, hot and sharp, behind my eyes.
"Gabriel, I—"
"Please." His grip tightened. "Please say yes. Please come with me. I don't care about the money. I don't care about the name. I just care about you. About us. About the life we could have."
I wanted to say yes.
I wanted to say yes so badly it hurt.
But the words wouldn't come.
"Gabriel," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm already theirs." The tears were falling now, sliding down my cheeks, and I didn't bother to wipe them away.
"I know it doesn't make sense. I know it's not healthy.
But I'm trapped, Gabriel. I'm trapped in this house, in this family, in this life.
And I don't know how to be only one person's anymore. "
"Monika—"
"Don't you understand?" I pulled my hands away, standing, pacing the greenhouse floor.
"I've been sleeping with your father. With your brother.
I've let them do things to me that would make you sick.
I've seen things in this house that would haunt you for the rest of your life.
I'm not the girl you met in that diner. I'm not the girl you fell in love with.
I'm something else now. Something broken. "
He stood, crossing the space between us in two strides. His hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him.
"You're not broken," he said. "You're hurt. There's a difference."
"Not anymore."
"Listen to me." His voice was fierce, desperate. "I don't care what you've done. I don't care what they've done to you. I love you. I will always love you. And I will spend the rest of my life helping you heal, if you let me. Please let me."
"I can't let you do that."
"Why not?"
"Because you're too good for me." The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. "You're good, Gabriel. You're the only good thing in this house. And if I come with you, I'll only drag you down. I'll destroy you the way I'm being destroyed. And I can't—I won't—do that to you."
He kissed me.
It was not a desperate kiss. It was not a hungry kiss. It was gentle, sad, perfect. The kiss of someone who knew they were saying goodbye.
"Then I'll go alone," he said against my lips. "But I want you to know—I'm not giving up on you. I'll never give up on you. If you ever change your mind, if you ever want to leave, I'll be there. I'll always be there."
"Gabriel..."
He kissed me again. His hands were trembling, and I realized he was crying too. The tears slid down his cheeks, falling onto mine, mingling in the space between us.
"I love you," he said. "I'll always love you. No matter what happens. No matter who you become. I'll always love you."
He pulled back. Let his hands fall from my face. Stepped away.
"Goodbye, Monika."
He walked out of the greenhouse. I stood in the middle of the orchids, surrounded by the ghosts of his mother's flowers, and I watched him go.
I didn't follow him.
I couldn't.
I didn't see him leave.
I stayed in the greenhouse until the sun had fully set, until the sky was dark and the stars were out. I didn't cry. I couldn't. The tears had dried, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest.
When I finally walked back to the house, the foyer was empty. Gabriel's room was empty. His car was gone.
He'd left without a goodbye.
I stood in the doorway of his room, looking at the space where he'd lived. The walls were bare, the closet empty, the bed stripped of its sheets. There was nothing left of him except the faint smell of his cologne and the ghost of his presence.
He was gone.
And I had let him go.
I walked to the window and looked out at the driveway. The gate was open, the road dark, the world beyond the mansion waiting for someone brave enough to leave.
I wasn't brave enough.
I was just a girl who'd been broken by three men and didn't know how to put herself back together.
Aleksander found me in Gabriel's room.
He didn't say anything. He just stood in the doorway and watched me, his grey eyes unreadable.
"He's gone," I said.
"I know."
"You knew he was going to leave?"
"He told me this morning."
"And you let him go?"
"He's a grown man. He's not a prisoner." Aleksander walked into the room, stopping beside me at the window. "He's been wanting to leave for years. I'm surprised it took this long."
"Did he tell you about me? About his offer?"
"Yes."
"And you still let him go?"
"I'm not going to stop someone from trying to save you, Monika. Even if I know it won't work."
I turned to look at him. His face was calm, controlled, the mask he wore when he didn't want to show what he was feeling.
"How do you know it won't work?"
"Because you're still here." He reached out and touched my face, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "If you wanted to leave, you would have gone with him. But you didn't. You stayed. With me."
"Maybe I'm just too tired."
"Maybe." He leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead. "Or maybe you're exactly where you're supposed to be."
I didn't argue. I didn't have the strength.
That night, I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling.
The room was empty without Gabriel's presence. The bed was too big, the sheets too cold, the silence too loud. I closed my eyes and saw his face—the way he'd looked at me in the greenhouse, the tears on his cheeks, the desperate hope in his eyes.
He'd asked me to leave with him.
He'd offered me a life—a real life, one that wasn't built on blood and cages and men who loved me the wrong way.
And I'd said no.
Because I was already theirs.
Because I didn't know how to be only one person's anymore.
I turned onto my side and cried until there were no tears left.
The next morning, Gabriel's absence was a wound that everyone pretended not to notice.
Nathan was louder than usual, his jokes sharper, his smile more brittle. Aleksander was quieter, retreating into his study, burying himself in work. The servants moved through the house like ghosts, their eyes averted, their voices hushed.
And I—I went through the motions. Ate breakfast. Drank coffee. Walked through the gardens and pretended I wasn't waiting for him to come back.
He didn't come back.
He was gone.
And I was still here, trapped in the golden cage, waiting for the next shoe to drop.