5. CHAPTER 4 #2
On the monitor, she tipped her head back, the sunlight reflecting on the brown skin at the line of her throat.
She didn’t look sick. She looked free, or maybe she was trying to be.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I reached for the cup of coffee Mrs Lewis had just delivered. “Is it serious?”
The line went silent for a second.
“No, no,” he rushed. “Nothing of concern. Young women, you know. Stress. Emotions.”
A young woman on my screen leaned against the balcony while her lover stood beside her, and I wondered if Demola knew his daughter had bought fruits at a roadside stall that morning, after getting off a ferry.
She hadn’t eaten any of it. There was a picture of her giving it away to a child right at the entrance of the hotel she was at right now.
“That’s a relief,” I murmured.
On the other end of the line, he exhaled like a man allowed to keep his dignity.
“We are committed to this union,” he continued. “And to the truce. I want to assure you of that. This is merely… an unfortunate interruption.”
Unfortunate interruption.
His unfortunate interruption was currently unpacking a bag in a hotel room by the sea with a man who didn’t have the spine to protect her from what would come next.
The next clips Severin sent filled the screen.
Partial view through the main window. Her moving around the small space, unpacking a bag. She took out a folded piece of clothing and placed it on a narrow shelf by the window.
Yves stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
Clown.
My jaw flexed once. Then again.
I watched her hands linger close to his, hesitantly touching him without holding him.
“I appreciate the reassurance,” I said calmly. “Your daughter’s well-being is important to us. We can reschedule when she’s recovered.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” He sounded eager now, almost grateful. “You are very understanding, Orion. Please extend our apologies to your father.”
I glanced at the window to my right, facing where my father slept in his converted hospital wing, machines breathing in time with his weakening lungs.
“He’ll be informed.”
“Thank you.” The words scraped a little. “You are very generous. We will be in touch soon.”
I smiled, though there was no warmth in it. I was anything but generous…or understanding.
“I look forward to it.”
When I ended the call, the only sound in the room was the radiator ticking as it cooled and the notification ping of Severin's next message arriving.
12:12 – Blaise and Laurent F. left Paris.
12:47 – Stratum deployed additional personnel on ground. Operatives disguised as hotel workers and locals.
13:02 – Debo F. remains in Paris. Separate operation suspected.
My phone buzzed again.
Adrien: Are you alive, or did last night finish you?
I ignored it.
Léonie was back at that balcony again, pulling her hair into a ponytail. I'd never seen her wear her hair in a high ponytail before.
There was something about the way she did it. The ease of it. I rewound and then paused it. I couldn’t see her full face. For some reason, I wish I had a better angle.
A new notification pulled my attention.
Severin: Do we shared intel with the Fernández?
I could almost hear his neutral voice offering it as a professional courtesy.
My answer was simple. No.
He asked for my reason next. I looked to my screen, watching the frozen frame of the woman who thought she’d slipped the world that owned her.
Me: I want to see how hard they’re willing to work to keep what they want.
I thought for a second,
Me: We’ll use this.
We’ll use this. Her escape. Their desperation. All of it.
I’ll make sure we make the best of this opportunity by milking it for all its worth.
Severin: Understood. I’ll have my men continue full observation. No intervention.
Perfect.
This wasn’t a crisis. It was leverage.
The Fernándezes can prove their loyalty by doing the work to bring her back, while I tighten the contract clauses.
This only sweetens the deal. I don’t have to cut any corners. My lawyers don’t have to pull any tricks.
I took another sip of coffee.
If she came back—and she would, because the Fernández family, with their reputation on the line, would never allow disobedience to breathe—there would be no ambiguity next time.
She wouldn’t run again. She wouldn’t think it possible. I’d make sure the new contract removed the illusion of choice entirely.
I set the mug down, reached for my phone, and opened a new message to my legal counsel.
Me: Baron, we’re adding clauses.
Baron King: Concerning?
Me: Marital terms. Custody. Heir rights. Everything.
Baron King: Understood. Any details in particular?
Me: Draft something comprehensive. Terms must be binding, not discretionary.
That was what the previous document lacked.
Binding terms. Clear obligations. Explicit consequences.
I wasn’t angry she ran. I was irritated she thought it changed anything.
This union had nothing to do with emotions. It was inevitable.
And inevitability didn’t end because a naive girl took a train with her lover before sunrise.
My phone buzzed.
Marcus: Orion, send an ellipsis if you’re dead inside.
Elias: He is dead inside. You saw the way he was last night.
Unfortunately, he was right.
Dead inside was the only way to function, and make decisions without hesitation. Especially now that—
Zane: That poor wife he’s about to marry.
I’d need to warn Zane not to reference my wife in future conversations.
Wife.
I tapped the screen and the clip continued. She repeated the same action—pulling her dark hair into a neat ponytail. She stood at the balcony, her fingers on the railing, her thoughts somewhere far away.
She turned for a second and I froze the frame again. There was a certain gentleness about her that sometimes made me… pause.
It sparked something in me. Curiosity, maybe.
I wanted to know what it would feel like to experience it in real time. What I would do with something that soft in my hands.
It was a dangerous thought. Totally unnecessary. I shut it down.
When she returned—bleeding pride and all—she’d face my new terms. It’s fine if she hates me. I could live with her despising me.
Part of me even hopes she'd fight me, though nothing she does will change the outcome. I'm just curious to experience the parts of her that held the fire she was hiding.
I’ll make sure she knows that even though some things in this world were negotiable. Marriage with Orion Kade never was.
Pressed play again, and the clip continued.
Yves stepped out to the balcony with a blanket and placed it around her shoulders, then kissed the side of her face.
I didn’t stop the footage or look away.
Without taking my eyes off the screen, I picked up my phone and typed a message to Severin.
Me: Don’t touch the boyfriend.
Severin: Surprising. Any reason?
She turned to face him and kissed his lips. He deepened it. My jaw clenched harder.
Me: He won’t matter soon.
I wasn’t jealous. He was a man putting her in danger when he should be protecting her. He didn’t deserve her.
The clip closed with a tap at the corner of the screen.
He was nothing but a passing complication.
Once the marriage was formalized, she would be mine in every official sense of the word, every door would close, and every path would lead back to me.