5. Their Failing, Not Yours #3
"Enough, Iris," he said, his tone final, brooking no argument.
"Tonight, we will show them you are mine.
You belong to me, and they have no say in how you live.
Only I do. And nothing they say can change that.
" His words seemed to have a secret meaning beneath them, but before she could dig any deeper, the car slowed as it approached an all-too-familiar estate.
As the car turned onto the familiar long driveway of the Blackworth estate, Iris could feel the weight of her family's expectations crushing her from afar.
With each foot they drew closer, her resolve threatened to shatter, fracturing as easily as glass.
Nash's presence was both a shield and a reminder of the chains that bound her—not just to him, but to the family name she could never seem to honor.
She swallowed down the bile that rolled in her gut.
Much too soon, they had arrived at the circular drive that sat right in front of the house.
The sedan's engine fell silent, the stillness amplifying Iris's racing heart as Nash's hand withdrew from her.
The car door opened silently. But Iris couldn't help but wish for a low, ominous creak.
Something to validate her trepidation. With the door open, she felt the chill of the evening air snake its way inside.
She shivered, only partly from the cold.
"Come," Nash commanded, his voice low but laced with a venomous edge that made her stomach twist. He was out of the car in one swift movement, walking around it with large, easy strides.
His tall frame somehow ruled over the paved driveway, making it feel small and inadequate.
Iris reflected how some people were simply larger than life.
Nothing could fit them; they balked at labels and boundaries.
Nothing could be more true about Warrick Nash. How she had ever missed it, she would never know. He did not live in her world; she had merely been sucked into his.
He stopped in front of her open door and held his hand out for her.
As she accepted Nash's hand, stepping onto the smooth pavement, Iris couldn't help but lift her gaze to the monolith before her.
Her family's mansion stood out against the darkening sky, its silhouette imposing and unyielding, lights blaring out of every window.
What a waste. Most of those rooms had been empty for years. The grandeur of the architecture mocked her with its cold beauty, a stark reminder of the warmth she had never received inside. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the night ahead.
As she stood on the drive, looking up at the building she would not be sad to never see again. This house had been everything she never wanted.
Expense for the sake of expense.
Image above substance.
Reputation before character.
Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her tears at bay. Two silent tears slipped from her lashes and left wet trails down her cheeks.
Memories flooded back—hollow laughter echoing through marble halls, the clink of fine china, exorbitant parties full of horrible people.
No one had wanted her there. No friends had ever been allowed to come over.
The staff knew better than to show her any kindness.
Even her nannies had all been coached on how to stay remote, distant. All except one.
Nadya. The nanny she had for years. The one who had secretly rebelled against her job description, giving her small, loving moments to sustain her through the lonely, cold existence her mother had tried to enforce.
Iris had been the most well-behaved child under Nadya’s care, desperate to keep the one caregiver who never struck her like the previous nanny had.
She had modeled everything they expected of her, terrified of losing the only kindness in her world.
Even now, she remembered how Nadya’s kind eyes could heal her shattered soul.
After her mother forced her through hours of etiquette lessons, only to then spend at least an additional hour berating her for how pitifully she performed, telling her how she wished for a better daughter.
After going through that hell, opening her door and seeing warm eyes on a wrinkled face had been her only solace in this house.
It might have appeared to be a mansion, but it had been nothing more than a front for a prison. Desolate.
The day her mother had walked in on Nadya bandaging up her knee, speaking softly to her as she cried, had been the worst day of her life.
Her mother had wasted no time in dismissing the nanny for daring to commit the sin of showing kindness to an injured child.
She still mourned. Iris had lost more than a friend that fateful day; she had lost her only haven in a house that never felt like home.
After Nadya had been fired, no new nanny had been hired.
Iris had been eleven, and it had been decided she could spend her days alone.
The chef had cooked her food; the maid had laid out her clothes; the housekeeper had made sure to keep her secluded in her wing, ensuring she was neither seen nor heard by her parents.
School had been the only time Iris interacted with anyone who wanted to speak to her for several years. She supposed it made sense why she had been so successful in school—it had been the one place she had been happy.
"Remember who you are now," Nash murmured, his voice cutting through her reverie as his hand found the small of her back, guiding her forward. "You’re no longer the girl they tormented."
"They didn’t torment me," she protested. It had just been the way things were in their world. Having a family legacy came with expectations.
"What else would you call it?" he countered, but he let it go after that. "Fine, you are no longer the girl who craved their approval above everything else."
"Was I ever really anything else?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the memories of her past, which still echoed in her ears.
"Enough," he snapped, the possessive tone slicing through her doubts as effectively as a knife. Each word was a reminder of the power he wielded—not just over her, but seemingly over everything. Not to mention everyone. With him beside her, it was true that her family couldn’t touch her. They couldn’t compete with him.
At her continued silence, his fingers dug into her flesh. Not painful, per se, but with a command that left no room for argument.
"Look at me, Iris." His order brooked no refusal, and she obeyed, locking eyes with him. In his gaze, she saw something tumultuous. "Tonight, they will see you through my eyes. And if need be, I’ll tear down their ivory tower brick by brick until there’s nothing left for them to look down upon.
They brought this down upon themselves."
"Brought what?" she couldn’t help but ask, nervous about her family in a way she never had been before.
"They set you up for a very specific type of life. They tried to beat obedience into you, to force you to be docile. You had no power against them. It’s time they get a taste of it themselves." His eyes flashed dangerously. "It’s time they learn their own lessons."
The threat hung between them, heavy and absolute.
Nash’s declaration had been a twisted vow, a promise drenched in darkness that she knew her family deserved.
But she also knew a better woman, a good woman, would protest. Would insist he spare her family more than he already had.
He might have bought the company, but he was still saving it.
She knew he would rather see them destitute.
Having him humble them... it was still a mercy.
It would be painful for people as prideful as her parents, but he could just as easily ruin them.
They wouldn’t see it that way, though. She should have tried to stop him.
She knew that. And yet, her heart thrummed with a perverse sense of pleasure.
She felt herself drawn to the danger that wafted off him.
They had this coming. And with deliberate silence, she nodded her head at him. His answering smirk told her how much he liked her agreement.
"Let’s not keep them waiting any longer," he said, his voice softening slightly, as if recognizing the tremor that coursed through her.