Ch. 12 - AN IMPOSSIBLE FAVOUR

JENSYN

Arthur reminded me of my father.

Not in the way he looked, or even the way he dressed. Arthur carried himself with a kind of elegance money buys, while my father was always gruff and irritable. My father looked at people like they were meant to play roles assigned in his head long before they even spoke. Arthur looked at me like that.

Dad was never around much. When he was, I did my best to stay invincible. He had his way of making me feel like I owed him for the air I breathe. I learned early how to measure my words, how to sink into a hole I created in my heart. Arthur made me feel that same old crawl under my skin. Yet, here I was, sitting across him in his house that smelled like threats.

“Sit,” Arthur ordered, motioning toward the velvet armchair across from the one he sank into. I obeyed, legs stiff like they'd forgotten how to bend. A maid approached with a tray, and Arthur nodded. A glass of wine was placed on the table beside me.

I didn’t reach for it.

Arthur's eyes were sharp but amused. “I'm glad you agreed to listen.”

My throat tensed, a laugh teased me and I looked away before I succumbed into a fit of giggles.

As if he hadn't made it seem like a MUST I saw him. “You gave me no other options.”

He nodded. “I want us to start on a basis that we know ourselves, and I know what you are, Sawyer.”

When I stared into his eyes, it was wide with a recognition that upsetted me. I knew whatever he would say would change how I saw him.

“It didn't take me long to know what you are,” he continued, “You are an escort. A good one, I’m guessing.”

“What are you driving at?”

“Nothing. You clean up well, that's it. I don’t care why you’re married to my son. I’m not here to shame you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, like we were about to share a secret. “We are here because I need a favour.”

I let the silence settle. He worked with control, so I gave him that chance to control the scenario.

“I want you to give me a grandchild,” he said.

My spine stiffened. What was this old man yapping about?

“In five months,” he added, too casually as if we were discussing the weather. “I also want you to make my son fall in love with you.”

The audacity was laughable. I blinked twice, trying to process the things he'd said. “Excuse me?”

Arthur gave me a tight smile. “You heard me, Sawyer.”

“That's…” I exhaled, searching for words that wouldn't sound rude or insane. “That is impossible. You want me to trap your son emotionally and physically?”

“You’re already married,” he said simply. “It wouldn’t be hard.”

I shook my head. “I cannot do that.”

He took his glass of wine and leaned back on his chair. “It's a good thing you said you cannot, not that you wouldn't.”

“I wouldn't!” I didn't know the reason I said that, but it was for reaffirming what I stated in the first place, then so be it.

“You have ways, Sawyer. You seduce men for a living. My son is not made of stone.”

“No,” I replied. “I won’t be manipulated.”

Arthur brought his glass down so I saw the coldness that settled behind his eyes. “I have nothing to lose,” he affirmed. “You, however… you’re still paying for your mother’s treatment, yes? You like your life comfortable now, don’t you? You enjoy safety. A roof. No one is chasing you down alleys.”

What? He knows about Derek too? No one needs to tell me his last words meant something about Derek.

I stood up, fists clenched at my sides. “You don't get to threaten me with this. You don't get to decide what kind of woman I want to be just because you have the money.”

He shrugged. “This is not a decision making process. It is making a choice. A choice that benefits you for the rest of your life.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the next few months might get... complicated.”

He didn't wait for my reply. He called on a maid at the doorway and she helped him to stand. They both walked away like I was another piece of furniture in his living room. The wine he offered me sat untouched, but my stomach was too twisted to drink it.

I stared at the spot he’d just vacated, the echo of his words pressing into my chest like a weight I couldn't carry. A child? Love? With Linden?

Arthur was oblivious to Linden's character and Andrea's nature. He failed to grasp the true meaning of his requests, which wasn't only challenging but cruel. I had walked into this situation, unaware of the game that had begun right from the time I signed that contract with Linden. And now, I was the pawn in it.

I left Arthur's house, my pulse thudding in my ears. Outside, I was left with no choice to make.

But I knew what I wouldn’t do. Not for Arthur. Not for anyone.

***

I barely slept the night Arthur asked for that impossible favour. Days had passed after that and silence had become my shield. I didn't care that I had a ticking deadline. Who cares? He couldn't do anything, that I know.

This morning, everything looked normal. The dining table was warm, sun bleed through the tall windows and the air smelt of cinnamon and lavender. Linden sat at the head of the table, coffee in his hand, scrolling through his phone like that was what mattered to him. Andrea sat next to him, quiet as always, cutting her toasts as perfectly as she could.

I poured myself tea when Linden decided to speak to me. “There is a party this weekend,” he said. “A welcome party for Willow.”

I gave him no response. My fingers stilled on the teacup, trying to gauge his request.

“I want you to wear something appropriate. Something elegant. You’re my wife, remember?”

Before I could reply, Andrea spoke up, her voice calm. “My results are out.”

Linden didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“I passed,” she said, flat but clear. “All A parallels again.”

He only nodded. “That's good. I'll get you that colouring book you asked for.”

I blinked. Surely I misheard. I looked at Andrea. Her reaction shocked me. She picked at her toast, like that exchange she had with her father made perfect sense to her.

The conversation was the fastest pace I had ever witnessed. It was as if it didn't occur. “That’s it?” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “Is that seriously all you have to say?”

Linden tilted his head toward me, not all the way. It was just enough to acknowledge that I had said something since we came to the table to have breakfast. “Excuse me?”

I waved my teaspoon toward Andrea. “She told you she passed her exams—with the highest scores. And your response was to buy her a colouring book?”

Andrea didn't look at either of us. Linden spoke. “I don't get your point, Jensyn.”

“She's what? Eight?” I kept going, anger coursing through my veins. “Do you realise that kind of academic excellence is too much for her to earn at her age? Is that how you'd appreciate her?”

“She asked for the book. I’m getting her what she wanted,” Linden replied evenly, like I was the one making a scene.

“Are you being serious right now?” I pushed my chair back and got up. “She deserves more than a book. She deserves to be celebrated.”

“Jensyn…” he warned, his voice low now. “Stay in your lane.”

That landed harder than it should’ve. Yes, I was meant to stay in my lane and hell, I can't watch this happen and just sit like a plastic doll.

“I am not crossing my lane, Linden. I live here too. I am your wife. You asked me to play the wife, didn't you? Then act like a damn father!”

Andrea looked up at that, her expression was unreadable, then she went back to cutting her toast. Hell, she knew her father wasn't a father enough.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The coldness. The indifference. I couldn't stand this again. I've gone through this. I couldn't watch it happen again, yet, I walked away before I said something I couldn’t take back.

And for the first time since this charade began, I wished I’d never said yes.