Page 107 of A Mistake of Worth
He didn’t notice Alain slip out until he came back with Gabriel, dripping water onto the rug. Ellis trailed beside him, towel slung over his shoulders. Peter stayed at the door, silent, eyes sharp on the hall.
Gabriel’s face went ashen when he saw Henri’s bruises, his usual composure cracking. Across the room, Jean cried openly into Lucas’s chest, glitter streaking down his cheeks.
Gabriel dropped to his knees in front of them, hands hovering as though unsure where to land. For once, he looked stripped of power. CEO, billionaire, older brother—none of it mattered. His eyes moved over Henri’s bruises with naked horror, then to Michael, dark with a helplessness Michael had never seen in him.
“Henri,” Gabriel said softly, his voice breaking on the name.
It snapped Henri. He jerked back, frantic, trying to tear free of Michael’s arms. “No—Marc—he’ll be furious you’re here. You don’t know how angry—”
Michael tightened his hold, brushing a thumb over the bruise on Henri’s cheek. The mark burned proof under his touch. “Looks like he already is.”
Henri’s tears streaked his face, his voice hoarse. “He sent me. He knows it was you. All of you. The leak, the photos. He wantsit to stop.” He waved shakily at his black eye, the handprints fading red at his throat. “This is the warning. If you don’t—” His voice cracked. “If you don’t, it gets worse.”
Gabriel’s composure shattered completely. Fury sharpened his voice. “Then you won’t go back.”
Henri cut him off, desperate. “I have to. If I don’t, David will take it all. He’ll—” His throat closed on the words. He clung harder to Michael. “He’ll bear it all.”
“We’ll get him out, too,” Gabriel snapped back.
Henri shook his head violently. “You don’t understand. He doesn’t want out. He thinks Marc is good to him. He likes the rules, the certainty. He thinks it’s care.”
Michael’s chest ached at the pain in Henri’s voice.
Nika, quiet until now, finally spoke. “If he’s an adult and that’s his choice—”
“No.” Henri’s voice cracked sharply. “No one chooses Marc. Not after what he does.”
“What has Marc done to David?” Michael asked gently, his hand stroking Henri’s back.
Henri’s breathing turned ragged. “Marc hurts him. Hits him, chokes him, whips him. Hard.” His voice dropped, confused. “But afterward, David gets this look. Relaxed. Content.” Henri lifted his head, bewildered. “Like he wants it. But Marc doesn’t know how to care about anyone.”
Henri’s grip tightened on Michael’s shirt. “So David has to be broken somehow. Because Marc can’t actually care about him.”
Michael felt the pieces shifting into place. He’d seen this before. Not abuse disguised as consent, but actual consensual submission that looked terrifying from the outside. The way Henri described David’s response, those were signs of someone in subspace, not someone being destroyed.
But how could Henri see that? To Henri, any dynamic with Marc could only be abuse, because his own experience had been nothing but.
“Mon dieu, Henri,” Gabriel whispered, reaching out to touch his brother’s shoulder.
Henri flinched away, pressing harder against Michael. “It’s my fault. At that dinner, I was just being friendly, flirting a little. David blushed so beautifully, so innocent… And Marc had someone watching. Taking photos. He saw.” His voice turned self-loathing. “Marc took particular offense. Said I was ‘showcasing’ what belonged to him. But David had blushed, smiled, and been so genuine, and Marc wanted that. Wanted to own that innocence.”
Henri’s breathing became more erratic. “If I hadn’t flirted with David, Marc never would have noticed him. David would still be free.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Michael said firmly, tightening his arms around Henri. “This isn’t your fault.”
Henri shook against him. “But it is. And now, I don’t know how to save him.”
Silence followed. Michael could see the truth of it in Nika’s reluctant expression. Perhaps, at times, people chose what appeared to be chains from the outside.
Henri’s grip fisted in Michael’s shirt, eyes wild. “You have to stop. If you keep pushing, he’ll keep hurting us. He’ll never stop.” His voice broke down to a whisper. “You have to stop.”
Michael cupped his cheek, brushing a thumb over the bruise that bloomed there. “Is that honestly what you want? To go back to him?”
The answer tore out of Henri instantly. “No.”
Gabriel’s voice was iron. “Then we move forward.”
Alain leaned back with a bitter laugh. “Then we still need someone who’ll make this stick. A reporter with teeth. Otherwise, it’ll just get buried again.”
