Chapter 4 - A Choice of Armors
Dominic released Arthur slowly, smoothing the man's lapels with an insulting, deliberate precision. Arthur stumbled back, coughing, his face flushed with mortification.
Claire rushed to her father's side, but her eyes were entirely on Dominic. ""Is it true, Dominic? Did you love her the entire time you were asking for my hand?""
Dominic looked at Claire. In that moment, he saw her not as a tactical maneuver or an heir to a rival empire, but as a young woman whose heart had been used as currency by her own father and traded away by Dominic himself. The shame was suffocating.
""I never lied to you about my feelings, Claire,"" Dominic said softly, his voice stripped of hostility. ""I told you I was incapable of giving you a real marriage. But I allowed you to believe this arrangement was the only way forward. That was my cowardice. Not yours. You deserve someone who looks at you like the first light of morning. I was only looking for an ally in the dark.""
Claire let out a shuddering breath, a tear tracing a mascara streak down her cheek. She turned to Elena. The two women held each other's gaze across the marble floor—neither showing malice, only the mutual, tragic understanding of women who had been caught in men's reckless games of pride and power.
""We're leaving,"" Claire whispered to her father, pulling his arm.
""Claire, be quiet! This savage owes us fifty million in restructured debt!"" Arthur hissed, adjusting his collar. ""He signed the intent to merge! If he breaks it, I will destroy his shipping licenses, tie him up in federal litigation for a decade, and expose every dirty penny his family washed twenty years ago!""
""Do your worst, Arthur,"" Dominic said coldly. ""My lawyers will send over the termination agreement by sunrise. Every cent I loaned you remains due in thirty days. Now get out of my home.""
Arthur glared at Dominic, then at Elena, before allowing Claire to lead him toward the private elevator. As the chrome doors slid shut, the apartment descended into an excruciating, hollow silence.
Elena walked over to the low leather couch and sat down carefully, placing a hand on her lower back. Dominic stood watching her, suddenly terrified of approaching.
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""You just threw away everything you worked twenty years to build,"" Elena said softly, staring at the polished table.
""No,"" Dominic said, walking over and kneeling on the floor beside her, his tattooed hands resting gently beside her knee. ""For the first time in twenty years, I just bought my own freedom.""
