Silence hung between them, thick with tension. Vivie’s breath was shallow, her pulse pounding in her ears as she stared at the documents spread across Ashton’s desk. The truth was there in black and white, undeniable, unshakable. He had been watching her. Protecting her. But why?

Her hands trembled as she lifted another page. More newspaper clippings, more pieces of a puzzle she never knew existed. The attack on her family—the one her parents had swept under the rug as an unfortunate incident—was no accident. It was deliberate. Calculated. And Ashton had known all along.

She felt his presence before he even moved. He was watching her closely, his body taut, his expression unreadable. A predator waiting for his prey to make the next move.

“You’re lying,” she whispered, though the evidence in front of her said otherwise.

Ashton exhaled sharply, the sound laced with something between frustration and restraint. “You think I went through all of this just to lie to you?”

Vivie clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “Then why? Why did you keep this from me?”

His dark eyes bore into hers, his jaw tightening. “Because knowing the truth would have put you in even more danger.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Right. Because forcing me into this marriage and keeping me locked in your world is so much safer.”

His patience snapped. In an instant, he was in front of her, his hands braced against the desk on either side of her, caging her in. “You think I enjoy this? You think I wanted any of this?” His voice was low, dangerous, but there was something else there too—something raw, like an exposed nerve. “If you had any idea what I’ve done to keep you alive, you wouldn’t be standing here questioning me.”

Vivie swallowed hard, her throat dry. “Then tell me.”

His gaze darkened, something flickering behind his eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “You owe me that much.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but for a moment, he said nothing. Then, with a slow, measured movement, he turned away from her, running a hand through his hair. He looked…exhausted. Like a man carrying a weight far heavier than anyone should bear.

“I made a promise,” he finally said, his voice quieter now. “A long time ago.”

Vivie frowned. “To who?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into a drawer, pulling out a small, worn photograph. He held it out to her, his expression unreadable.

Vivie hesitated before taking it. The image was faded, but she recognized one of the people immediately. It was her father. Younger, maybe in his late twenties, standing beside another man. A man who looked strikingly like Ashton.

Her blood ran cold. “Who is this?”

“My father,” Ashton said quietly. “And yours.”

Vivie’s breath caught. She looked up at him, confusion and disbelief crashing into her all at once. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he murmured, taking a step closer, “that our families have been entangled far longer than you realize. And that everything you think you know about your father? About your family? It’s only half the story.”

Vivie’s mind reeled, struggling to make sense of it all. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve been protecting me.”

His eyes darkened, his gaze holding hers captive. “Because he asked me to.”

Her heart pounded. “Who?”

Ashton didn’t look away. “Your father.”

Vivie’s world tilted, everything shifting beneath her feet. Her father had been involved in all of this? He had asked Ashton—the cold, ruthless man standing before her—to protect her? Why? From who?

Before she could speak, Ashton reached out, his fingers grazing her wrist. His touch was warm, grounding, but it sent a shiver through her nonetheless.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” he said, his voice almost gentle. “But now that you have, there’s no going back.”

Vivie pulled her hand away, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

He exhaled, watching her closely. “Believe this—I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means keeping you here. Even if it means you hate me.”

She stared at him, searching for something—anything—in his expression that would tell her this was all some sick joke. But there was only sincerity. A cold, brutal honesty that left her breathless.

She turned away, trying to process everything. “I need time,” she murmured.

Ashton’s voice was low, certain. “Time won’t change the truth.”

Vivie swallowed hard, stepping toward the door. “Maybe not. But it might change what I decide to do with it.”

And with that, she walked out, leaving Ashton standing in the darkness, watching her go.