Page 124 of A Mistake of Worth
“Of course.” Michael settled back against the headboard, pulling Henri closer with careful gentleness. “As long as you need.”
Henri let himself be gathered in, his head coming to rest on Michael’s chest. The steady thump of Michael’s heart beneath his ear was grounding, real. He focused on it, counting the beats, using it to anchor himself in the present.
They lay in silence for a while. Michael’s hand moved in slow, soothing circles on Henri’s back, never venturing near the places that were still tender, as if he’d memorized the map of Henri’s injuries and knew exactly where to touch and where to avoid.
Henri tried to convince himself this was real. That he was here. That Marc had actually let him go.
But his mind kept circling back to the impossibility of it. Marc never lost. Marc never let go of what belonged to him. There had to be a catch, a trap, something Henri wasn’t seeing.
“I don’t understand,” Henri said finally, his voice small in the quiet room. “Why did Marc let me leave?”
Michael’s hand stilled in its rhythm. The silence stretched just long enough to make Henri’s pulse spike.
“We made a deal,” Michael said carefully.
Henri lifted his head, trying to read Michael’s expression. “What kind of deal?”
Michael’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the stubble. “Gabriel paid him.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. Gabriel paid him. Paid who? For what?
And then understanding crashed through Henri, ice water in his veins.
“Ten million dollars,” Michael said, his voice carefully even. “That’s what Marc demanded. Gabriel paid it.”
Henri jerked upright so fast the world tilted sideways. Michael’s hands shot out to steady him, but Henri barely noticed, his vision tunneling, pulse roaring in his ears.
“What?” The word came out strangled.
“Henri, breathe—”
“No.” Henri shook his head violently, the room spinning. “That’s... that’s too much. That’s insane. Ten million dollars?”
“It’s what Marc demanded.”
Henri’s hands were shaking, his whole body trembling. Ten million dollars. For him. A price tag, a transaction, a—
His stomach heaved violently. He lurched toward the side of the bed, but Michael was already there with a basin, supporting him while Henri retched until there was nothing left but bile and horror.
When he could breathe again, Michael was pressing a cool cloth to his face, murmuring soft reassurances that Henri couldn’t process.
“I have to pay him back.” Henri’s voice was raw, desperate. “I can liquidate my trust, sell my stock holdings in Three Rivers—I’ll pay Gabriel back, I just need time—”
“Henri, stop.” Michael’s hands framed his face, forcing him to focus. “Gabriel doesn’t want you to pay him back. This wasn’t a loan.”
“But ten million—” Henri’s voice cracked. “That’s... I’m not worth that. I’m not worth anything close to that.”
“Gabriel thinks you are,” Michael whispered. “I think you are.”
“Gabriel is wrong.” Henri pulled away from Michael’s hands, wrapping his arms around himself. “You are wrong.” His whole body was shaking now, shock and shame warring for dominance. “I’m... I’m used. I’m broken. Marc made sure everyone knew what I was. What I am. Ten million dollars for damaged goods is—”
“Don’t.” Michael’s voice cut through his spiral. “Don’t call yourself that.”
“It’s true.” Henri’s laugh came out bitter, broken. “My father sold me to Olivier for an exclusive contract worth eight million dollars when I was seven. Apparently, I’ve appreciated in value. That should make me feel good, shouldn’t it? I’m worth more now than I was then.”
The hysteria in his own voice frightened him, but he couldn’t stop it.
“Henri.” Michael’s voice was firm, steady. “Stop. Breathe.”
