Page 64 of Chain Me

“I have my own money. My own company. I don't need anyone to take care of me.”

“Your company exists because I allowed it.” Each word is a nail in a coffin I'm only now realizing was being built around me. “The funding, the connections, the protection from interference—all of it flows from me. From this family.”

The room tilts around me. Everything I built, everything I thought was mine...

“That's not true.” But my voice cracks because deep down, I know it is. The early investors who appeared so conveniently. The contracts materialized without the usual corporate politics. The competitors mysteriously lost interest.

“Your freedom was an illusion. A gift I gave you when you were useful to me in other ways. But now—” He spreads his hands. “Now the family needs something different from you.”

My legs feel weak. I sink onto the bed, the silk pajamas suddenly feeling like chains.

“Please.” The word tastes bitter. “I'm happy. I have a life?—”

“You had a life. Now you have a duty.”

The walls seem to press closer. This room, this house, this family—it's all a cage. It always was. I just convinced myself the door was open when it never moved at all.

My chest constricts, making it hard to breathe.

“I can't.” The confession tears from my throat. “I can't marry Anton because I'm in love with someone else.”

Father's eyebrows rise, surprise flickering across his features. “In love? With whom?”

Heat floods my face. I can't tell him the truth—that I've fallen for Erik Ivanov, our enemy. That the man who held me captive somehow became the person I'd rather stay caged with than face this freedom.

“It doesn't matter who.” My voice shakes. “What matters is that I won’t marry Ivan.”

“You think love changes anything?” Father's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You think your feelings alter the reality of our situation?”

I stand again, pacing to the window despite knowing it won't open. My reflection stares back—pale, desperate. “They should matter. My choices should matter.”

“Your choices led you to be kidnapped by the Ivanovs.” His voice is detached. “Your choices nearly got Natasha Blackwood killed. Your choices have consequences beyond yourself.”

Each word lands like a slap, but it's the truth that hurts most. Erik's hands were on my skin, his voice rough with want when he called me beautiful. The way he looked at me in those final moments, like losing me, would break something inside him.

And I'd felt the same way.

“The man I love—” I turn from the window, meeting Father's cold gaze. “He's not available anyway. It was never going to work.”

“Then this conversation is pointless.” Father adjusts his cuffs again. Anton Petrov will make you a good husband. You'll learn to be content.”

“Content.” The word tastes like ash. “Not happy. Just content.”

“Happiness is temporary. Security lasts.”

My heart pounds against my ribs as memories flood back—Erik's quiet strength, the unexpected gentleness in his touch when he thought I was asleep. The way he looked at me made me feel like I was worth protecting.

Even when he was my captor, I'd felt freer with him than I do now in my father's house.

“I won't do it.” My voice breaks. “I won't marry him.”

Father's expression hardens into something I barely recognize. “You will. Because the alternative is far worse than an unhappy marriage.”

The threat hangs in the air between us, unspoken but understood. This isn't a negotiation.

It's a sentencing.

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