Page 132 of Her Soul to Own

But I know better than to relax because my father isn’t one to sit back while the walls close in.

The rumors start by late afternoon. Zara slides into the chair beside me with her eyes narrowed, her voice quiet. “He’s still in hiding, but some whispers say he’s meeting quietly with one of his oldest private contractors. A fixer.”

My stomach twists. “A fixer for what?”

“For anything,” she says simply. “That’s what they do.”

I knew he wouldn’t go quietly. I just didn’t know when he’d draw the first blade.

The fourth night hits harder. Silas comes into my suite after midnight, silent, watching me as I sit in front of the massive windows overlooking the gardens and barely breathing as the rain starts falling. The war outside hasn’t stopped, but this room, for one moment, is still.

“Come here,” he says softly.

His voice is the only steady thing I trust these days. I stand and let him pull me into his arms. I bury my face into his chest as my breath finally slows. The feel of his hand sliding up my spine, slow and warm, makes the knot in my chest loosen just enough for me to exhale.

“You’re holding up better than anyone should be,” he murmurs into my hair.

“I don’t have a choice,” I whisper back.

He pulls my chin up, his lips pressing against mine, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. For a moment, I almost let myself sink into it. Into him. Into the only thing that feels safe in this house that’s been nothing but a gilded prison for so long.

But I pull back, breathless, before we fall too far into each other. “There’s still too much to do.”

He smirks softly. “You always spoil the mood.”

I manage a small, tired laugh. “You’ll survive.”

“Always,” he whispers, kissing my forehead once before stepping back and letting me breathe.

“Where have you been?” I ask, my voice sounding more desperate than I intend it to sound. I haven’t seen him in days, and I’ve missed him more than I want to admit.

“Taking care of this mess, my love.”

My love.Two simple words, but they land like an anchor in my chest. Steadying and certain. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear them until now.

A smile pulls at my lips, soft and a little shaky, as my chest tightens with warmth and safety.

How did I get so lucky?

Silas wraps his arms around me again, pulling me into his chest like he’s done it a thousand times. Like it’s instinct. I bury my face into the curve of his neck, breathing him in and letting his heat seep into my bones. His grip is firm and grounding, like he’s holding me together without even trying.

For a moment, the world quiets. No investigations, no betrayal, no empire crumbling under its own lies. Just the sound of his heartbeat against mine and the way his hand traces slow, calming circles along my spine.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and I believe him.

Because whatever comes next—chaos, consequences, or war—we’re in it together. And in his arms, I finally feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

XXX

By the fifth morning, the first formal subpoenas drop.

Ms. Keene shows up with a team of federal agents—quiet, professional, and unapologetic. The foundation’s main accounts have been frozen, and my father’s name, once untouchable, is now printed across federal legal documents in bold ink.

It feels surreal, watching his empire fracture under my fingertips.

The calls from my dad stopped entirely, not that he bothered contacting me or explaining himself to me. He hasn’t contacted me since the single text that started it all.

You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart. What do you think you’re doing?

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