Page 65 of His to Hunt

She smirks. "I contain multitudes." Her tone drops then, just slightly. "So, what happened with Christopher, really?"

I hesitate. Because I wasn't sure I was ready to voice my scars yet.

"He told me I belonged to him," I finally admit. "That the engagement wasn't just a piece of paper—it was ownership. He'd remind me every chance he got."

Avery's mouth tightens. "Did you tell your parents about how he treated you?"

"I tried," I whisper. "They smiled. Said I was being dramatic. That I'd grow into the marriage."

"Oh, good," she snaps. "That's exactly what you want to hear when your fiancé's wearing a tux and a trust fund while terrorizing you."

"They didn't ignore me, Ave. They erased me. Like pretending it wasn't happening made it less true."

"They didn't just ignore you," she says quietly. "They punished you."

"They discarded me," I correct her again. "Like something broken they couldn't fix. Gen was the only one who really saw it. She watched how he'd corner me, how he'd whisper things when no one could hear. How he'd grip my arm just tight enough to leave a bruise where it wouldn't show."

"So that's why she gave you her invitation," Avery says, the pieces finally falling into place.

I nod slowly. "She knew what the Hunt was. Knew she wanted no part of it. But she also knew I was desperate to escape Christopher. She said it was my best chance."

"So, then what?" She leans forward, elbows on the table. "You woke up one day and thought—'Hey, I know! Let's go to a masquerade sex hunt, and maybe that'll solve all my problems?'"

I laugh—sharp and small, but genuine. "Something like that. Though in my defense, it seemed like a better option than waiting around for the wedding date to arrive. I just needed to avoid being caught, win the money, and disappear forever."

She leans forward, glass in hand. "And how'd that work out for you?"

I pause. "I met him."

Avery watches me carefully, a new kind of weight behind her voice. "And he scares you."

"Not the way Christopher does."

"No," she agrees, too quickly. "He scares you because you wanted him to catch you."

I say nothing.

She leans back with a sigh. "God, your mother gave off 'we regret the birth' vibes since day one. This just confirms everything I ever suspected."

"She once told me wanting to paint full time was a phase."

"Oh yeah, that tracks. I'm shocked she didn't set your brushes on fire."

"She threatened to cut me off mid-dinner."

"Let me guess. Red wine, French crystal, condescending smile?"

"She said I was embarrassing the family name."

"Right. Because you were the problem." Avery gestures broadly. "Not the forced engagement. Not the abusive fiancé. Not the secret power games. You, for having the audacity to want happiness."

"I left after college," I say softly. "Took what I could and vanished. I only stayed in touch with you and Gen."

Avery doesn't speak for a beat. Then, with a deep sigh and zero warning.

"No wonder you ended up with a billionaire sadist. You've got authority issues, abandonment trauma, and a moral compass that needs a tune-up."

I laugh—truly, this time. "Thanks. I'll pass that along to the therapist I can't afford."

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