I knew the chances were slim, but I couldn't stop myself from trying. I lifted my chin and met his gaze. "I'll agree to end the bond," I said quietly. "But I have conditions. Stay tonight. Stand by me at Grandpa's funeral. Once it's over, I'll sign whatever papers you need."
He studied me for a moment, as if weighing how little this would cost him.
"You make it sound like a sacrifice," he said mildly. "But let's not pretend you're giving up something I ever wanted."
Then his eyes narrowed, and I saw the hint of mockery in that dark calm. One corner of his mouth lifted in that infuriating way. "Prove it," he murmured.
"Prove it," he murmured, eyes lowering briefly, then lifting again with faint boredom.
"You've always been better at giving than letting go."
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Empty words won't keep me here, Scarlett."
The challenge in his voice tugged at my chest. I knew exactly what he wanted. My pride burned, but my instincts took over. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned closer, tilting my face up toward him.
I must have looked ridiculous, reaching for a man who towered over me so easily.
I wondered if he saw it too—how small I looked, how desperate.
Or if this was simply what he had come to expect from me.
Shame crept in, heavy and bitter. I was cornering the man I cared about, using my last bit of leverage. It felt weak. It didn't feel lovely. But before my thoughts could catch up, my body moved instinctively.
Just as my hand moved lower, his grip tightened around my wrist.
"That's enough," he said coolly.
"If you're going to beg, at least don't insult us both by calling it a condition."
His voice was flat and final.
I froze.
He let go of me and reached for the gray pajamas on the bed. He pulled them on with smooth, practiced movements. I sat there for a few seconds, stunned.
"You should stop clinging to habits," he said without looking at me.
"They give you ideas that don't suit your position anymore."
Was he... staying?
That thought barely formed when I heard a woman's voice filtering through the rain.
"Ashton…"
My heart sank.
He was already moving, striding toward the balcony. I watched anxiously as he looked down, his expression darkening. Without a word, he grabbed his coat and walked out of the room.
I rushed to the window.
Rebecca stood below, drenched, rain clinging to her dress and hair. She looked small and fragile, like she might disappear if the storm got any worse.
Ashton stepped into the rain and draped his coat over her shoulders. He looked ready to scold her, but she reached for him first. She buried herself against his chest, crying openly, holding him as if he were the only solid thing left in her world.
He didn't push her away.
I stood there, numb, watching the rain blur everything between them.
In that moment, it hit me hard. Two years bound to him meant nothing compared to one desperate call from her. No contract, no duty, no promise I could offer would ever outweigh the pull she had on him.
Ashton walked in with Rebecca tucked against his side, his arm securely around her shoulders. They moved in unison, as if their connection had already been decided. I stood at the top of the stairs, my body tense as I took in their soaked clothes and the instinctive way he shielded her.
"Move," Ashton snapped, his voice sharp with disgust.
Was I sad? I wasn't sure. My chest felt tight, but my eyes burned more than my heart. It hurt to see the man I was bound to treat another woman as if she were something fragile and precious while I stood there feeling like dirt beneath his shoes.
"Ashton," I said quietly, holding my ground. "When we formed the bond, you promised Grandpa that she would never step into this place as long as I was here."
This villa was the only place that had ever felt like mine. Time and again, I had stepped aside and let him go to her, convincing myself it was enough. But now he had brought her here, into my space.
He laughed, a sound that was cold and cutting. "You think you matter far too much, Scarlett," he said as he pushed past me.
I stumbled but caught myself against the railing. By the time I regained my footing, he was already leading Rebecca into the guest room. I watched them disappear down the hallway, feeling like a stranger in my own home.
Sleep was eluding me tonight.
The rain had soaked Rebecca thoroughly. Her body had always been weak, and it didn't take long for her to develop a fever. Ashton stayed by her side, gentle in a way I had never experienced. He helped her change, pressed cool towels to her skin, and watched over her as if she might break if he looked away.
I stood there quietly, perhaps too quietly.
His eyes flicked toward me, cold and sharp. "Leave," he ordered. "Go back to the family home. She can't be disturbed tonight."
The words felt unreal. At this hour? A bitter laugh almost escaped me, but I swallowed it down. So that was what I had become: a disturbance.
I looked at him for a long moment. He did not look back and showed no consideration for the distance, the danger, or the night. None of it mattered as long as Rebecca was resting.
I took a slow breath, forcing my voice to remain calm. "I'll return to the bedroom. It's not appropriate to head there now."
I refused to be chased out like something unwanted. Even if he didn't value me, I still had my pride.
I turned and left the guest room.
Halfway down the corridor, I nearly collided with Jared Crest. He was moving quickly, still in black pajamas, his hair damp, and his shoes mismatched. Rain clung to him as if he had rushed here straight from bed without a second thought.
He must have come the moment he heard.
The night felt heavy around us, thick with unspoken tension. Deep inside, something stirred again, uneasy and alert, as if it knew this was only the beginning.