Silence hung thick between them, the weight of what she had discovered pressing down on her chest like a vise. Vivie’s fingers clutched the folder against her, as if keeping it close would somehow protect her from the truth it contained.

Ashton’s gaze remained steady, dark and unyielding. His words still echoed in her mind. Because you were always meant to be mine.

“Say something,” he demanded, his voice a quiet storm.

Her throat felt dry, her body locked in place. “Why?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “Because I had to know.”

She took a step back, but there was nowhere to run. “You stalked me. Watched me for years like I was some kind of project.”

His jaw tightened. “I protected you.”

Vivie let out a hollow laugh. “Protected me? You controlled me. You decided my life before I even knew you existed.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—guilt, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me,” she shot back. “Because all I see is a man who thinks he owns me.”

His fingers twitched at his side, but he remained composed. “You were never safe. Not with your family, not with the people who wanted to hurt you. I made sure you stayed untouched.”

A shiver ran through her. The past came rushing back—the nightmares, the shadows that had loomed over her before she even knew what true danger was. Had he really been there all along?

“That doesn’t justify what you did,” she whispered. “You should have told me. Given me a choice.”

Ashton’s expression hardened. “A choice?” He took a slow step toward her. “You would have run. And then what? You think the world would have been kind to you? You think the people who hurt you before wouldn’t try again?”

She stiffened. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”

His hand shot out, grasping her wrist, but his grip wasn’t cruel—it was desperate. “You don’t see the full picture, Vivie. There are things you don’t know, dangers you don’t even realize exist.”

Her pulse hammered. “Then tell me.”

He hesitated. For the first time, the ever-composed Ashton Varela looked uncertain.

But before he could answer, the door behind him creaked open.

Vivie’s breath hitched as a figure stepped inside. One of Ashton’s men, dark-suited and stoic, his gaze flickering between them. “Boss, there’s a situation.”

Ashton let out a slow, controlled breath before releasing her wrist. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The man nodded and disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Ashton turned back to her, his gaze smoldering. “This isn’t over.”

She lifted her chin. “I didn’t think it was.”

His lips pressed together, his eyes burning with something unreadable. Then, without another word, he left.

Vivie exhaled shakily, her heart still racing.

She had gotten her answers.

But somehow, she felt even more lost than before.

Minutes passed, but the tension in the room refused to fade. Her fingers tightened around the folder once more, her pulse still unsteady. The weight of Ashton’s words lingered in her mind—he had known about her for years, had ensured her safety from the shadows. But at what cost? How much of her life had been orchestrated by him without her knowing?

She sank into the nearest chair, her body suddenly feeling too heavy. The past and present clashed in her mind, forming a chaotic storm of emotions. The betrayal stung, but a part of her—one she refused to acknowledge—felt something else, something dangerously close to security.

The door creaked open again, startling her. She half-expected Ashton to return, but instead, it was one of the mansion’s maids, hesitant as she stepped inside. “Miss Sinclair, would you like anything?”

Vivie blinked, shaking her head. “No, I’m fine.”

The woman nodded and retreated, leaving Vivie alone once more. Alone with the suffocating realization that nothing in her life had truly been hers—not her choices, not her safety, and certainly not her freedom.

But that would change.

No matter what Ashton thought, no matter what control he believed he had over her, Vivie wasn’t going to let this go.

She would fight.

Even if it meant going up against the man who had already decided she belonged to him.