14. CHAPTER 12 #2
“I fought for this family before you were out of knickers,” my father snarled back. “Don’t stand there and lecture me about leverage.”
“You let him rewrite the entire agreement,” Debo said. “You gave him control of the trust, of the governance—”
“I gave him what we could no longer afford to hold,” my father snapped. “Thanks to your sister’s little stunt, we lost the right to dictate terms.”
The word sister landed very heavy.
I knew Orion Kade was going to use what had happened against us.
How far did he push it?
Debo grimaced. “You’re blaming her for your weakness?” he hissed. “For your history with that man’s father? You did this, not her.”
“She ran,” my father said coldly. “She turned a carefully-structured alliance into a scandal. I had to clean it up. That’s what fathers do when their children fail to understand the weight on their shoulders.
The words stripped something raw in me, and my stomach turned. I was something to be cleaned up. A mess to be managed. A failure.
As it stood, I wasn’t sure if I was sad or angry or just tired. Perhaps all three blurred into the same gray static.
Debo’s jaw ticked multiple times, his eyes darkened with betrayal.
“You sold our governance for your pride,” he said. “For your fear of losing face. It had nothing to do with her.”
It hurt more that he still didn’t look at me. He'd said her as though I wasn’t standing in the doorway soaking every syllable in. He hadn’t my name once.
A movement to the side caught my eye.
Laurent, leaning against a cabinet with his arms folded, watching the explosion like a spectator at a polo match. He glanced toward the door, spotted me, and smiled, fractured and humourless.
“Well,” he said loudly, tilting his chin toward me, “speak of destruction and she appears.”
All three men turned.
My father’s face shuttered as if I was something terrifying to look at. Debo’s expression closed off so fast it made my chest ache. Laurent’s smile only widened like a psychopath.
“It’s all because of you, you know,” Laurent added, nonchalantly. “The fine. The clauses. Our new overlord. We should get you a crown. Or a leash.”
“Enough,” Blaise snapped, taking a step in front of me.
I found my voice, but it sounded smaller than I was aiming for.
“What clauses?” I asked. “What did he change? What did Orion do?”
My father’s eyes hardened the way it usually does when he’s addressing a problem.
“This is not your concern,” he said. “The agreement is signed. You’ll play your part. That is all.”
“My part,” I repeated, the words scraping out of me. “You mean marry him and hope he’s generous with the scraps?”
“Léonie.” His voice lashed across the room. “Go to your room.”
Go to your room? I’m not a child everyone can push around in this house. No.
“I have a right to know what you’ve traded me into. I also have a right to know what has been signed away in my name.”
“You have a duty,” my father said as a matter of fact, still without looking at me. “To repair what you broke. That’s enough.”
Repair what I broke? I didn't break anything.
Tears stung hot behind my eyes, but I refused to let it fall. Not here. Not in front of them.
I would never give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me break.
Laurent smirked.
“Careful père,” he drawled. “You can’t scold her anymore. She belongs to the crown prince now.”
“Laurent.” Blaise snarled. “Not now.”
“Why not?” Laurent countered to mirror Blaise’s tone. “He’s already taken our future. He might as well take everything else.”
My father slammed his palm against the desk and I tensed.
“Out,” he barked. “All of you. Blaise, take your sister upstairs. Laurent, find a way to be useful. Debo, sit down before you say something you can’t take back.”
Debo sat begrudgingly, while Laurent kicked off against the wall with a wicked glint in his eyes that promised this was far from over.
And if there was one thing I knew about Laurent, it’s his ability to hold a grudge. He had a penchant for holding on to things and never letting go.
Blaise’s hand squeezed my arm gently. “Léo,” he whispered.
I took a deep breath and stepped back—out of the study and their line of sight. I was retreating from a discussion that was about me, but never for me.
I could sulk all I wanted or call it unfair, but in this house, my indignation was irrelevant. This was the norm, a patriarchal stage where men spoke for everyone, and the women were just collateral for the debts they owed each other.
In the hallway, my mother appeared, drawn by the noise—perfectly composed in a floral green blouse, her hair pinned up smoothly.
Her eyes took in the entire chaos in one sweep.
The shattered glass. The scattered documents.
And me, walking away as though someone had pulled the floor two inches out from under my feet.
“What is happening?” she asked in the cool, controlled voice she used whenever the men were being chaotic.
“Business,” my father said from inside the study. “Go back upstairs, éliane.”
She ignored him. Normally, she would have called on one of the housekeepers to clean up the mess. She didn’t. She turned to face me instead.
“Come,” she said in an unexpected soft voice. “Let them shout at each other. It’s what they know how to do.”
Her hand closed around my wrist, not to provide any comfort but to direct me where she needed me. I followed. My eyes met Blaise’s as I was led away and he gave a thin sympathetic smile.
As we moved down the corridor, my mind replayed the last ten minutes in fragments. My father’s voice, Debo’s anger, Laurent’s irritating smirk.
Beneath all of it was the image of a tall man in a navy suit walking out of our house with a confidence that dared anyone to question that I belonged to him.
They were willing to burn my future for whatever deal he’d offered.
Yet, no one had thought to ask what it would cost me.