CH07: Freedom Has a Price

[ BROOKLYN ]

For almost a full minute, I just stare at Izaac, wondering if this man has completely lost his mind.

He’s the biggest playboy in Miami. He can have any woman he wants with a snap of his fingers. So why the hell is he standing here, offering to wipe out half a million dollars in debt just to make me his wife?

This is way too fishy. He’s a fool if he thinks I’ll fall for it.

“You really are a mad man, aren’t you?” I snap, snatching my arm away from his grip and stepping back to put space between us.

I shake my head in disbelief and drag my fingers through my hair.

“You know what? Forget this. Get out, or I’ll call the cops on you right now.”

“Fine then,” he replies with a casual shrug, like none of this matters. “I already thought you might turn me down. So I came prepared with a simpler option.”

I stare at him, still shaking my head.

“You’re sick. Why the fuck would I agree to anything with you?”

“Well…” He slips his hand back into his pocket and starts pacing slowly through the cafe, his eyes scanning the place.

“For starters, you broke off our engagement and almost ruined my reputation. My position in the company is now at risk. There’s a lot of gossip flying around because of the short time I have left to meet my grandfather’s final condition.”

He picks up a small sculpture from a side table, studies it for a second, then sets it back down and walks toward me again.

“So I came up with a plan.” He stops right in front of me, towering over me with that serious, stoic expression. “Use the same person who caused the problem to fix it. If you won’t marry me, at least pretend we’re still engaged. Act like we never broke up. Shut down the public ridicule, buy me time to find another wife, and calm the Board. We set a clear timeframe. After that, you can publicly dump me and walk away free.”

I scoff, loud and bitter.

“Wow. You really have this whole plan mapped out. So fucking confident that I’ll agree to be part of your little game.”

“Oh, I bet you will,” he says, his calm confidence almost making me want to slap the arrogance off his face.

“Listen, honey…” He reaches for my face, but I swat his hand away hard.

His hand hovers in the air for a second before a dark, amused smirk curls on his lips. He slowly lowers it and shoves it back into his pocket.

Good choice.

“I’m not asking you to marry me for real. You’ve already made it clear you’d rather die than do that.” He scoffs like the idea is ridiculous. “All I need is for you to act as my fake fiancée. Help me get back on track at the company, and in return, I’ll clear every single dime your father owes my family.”

“You—” I start through clenched teeth, but he cuts me off.

“From what I heard, my father has big plans for yours.” His voice drops lower. “Plans that don’t include him leaving that cell anytime soon. Fraud charges. Court case. All your father’s old investors will be called in to testify against him. Do you have any idea how many years he could get if they all line up against him?”

My throat tightens painfully.

Hot, angry tears burn behind my eyes, but I blink them away fast.

Not now, Brooklyn. Don’t you dare break.

Izaac takes two steps back, watching me with that calm, devilish look, clearly satisfied that his words cut deep this time.

“Think about it, honey. Let me know when you make up your mind.” He cocks his head in a small, mocking nod, a grin playing on his lips. “Give me a call when you’re ready.”

My hands ball into tight fists at my sides.

As he turns and heads for the door, something inside me breaks and I lose every bit of self control left in me.

I cross the cafe in quick, desperate strides, grab his arm, and spin him around forcefully.

“Let’s do it,” I say through gritted teeth, glaring straight into his amused, darkly satisfied eyes. “But you keep your end of the deal. Don’t fucking play with me, Izaac Armani.”

The corners of his lips curl into a slow, dangerous smirk. “Never, honey. Never.”

“And stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what?”

“Honey,” I spit. “It makes me want to puke.”

“Can’t promise that, love.” His eyes sparkle with dark amusement.

Then, he adds: “Now, let’s discuss the deal properly. Starting with the rules. The dos and don’ts.”

~~~~~

“Brook!” Mom cries out the second I walk through the front doors of the police station.

She jumps up from the waiting bench and rushes toward me.

We crash into each other’s arms.

When she pulls back, my chest tightens painfully. Her face is soaked with tears, eyes red and swollen from hours of crying.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask, reaching up to wipe the fresh tears sliding down her cheek with my thumb.

“He’s locked in one of those cells,” she sobs, more tears spilling over. “Mr. Armani isn’t listening to anything we say. He wants to take this all the way, Brooks. I’m so scared. What are we going to do? We can’t just leave your father in there.”

“It’s going to be fine, Mom.” I say softly, bringing my other thumb to her face to brush away the tears.

But she shakes her head hard.

“No, it’s not, Brook. We’re doomed. Even if we sell everything we have left, we still can’t raise half the money. Your father is going to suffer for this…”

“He won’t, Mom. Trust me.” I cut her off and look her straight in the eyes. “Look at me. Dad is not going to suffer, and neither are we. You just have to trust me, okay?”

Even though her sobs don’t stop, she nods weakly.

“Good.” I glance around the station quickly, taking in the officers at their desks, some idle, some dealing with victims and troublemakers.

Then I look back at her. “Where’s Mr. Armani?”

“He’s in the Captain’s office.” She sniffles.

Without another word, I walk past her and head deeper into the station, straight for the Captain’s office.

An officer shouts angrily behind me, asking where the fuck I think I’m going, but I ignore him.

Mom hurries after me, her footsteps fast and anxious as she keeps asking what my plan is.

I push the door open without knocking.

Inside, the Captain sits behind his desk while Mr. Armani lounges opposite him. They’re laughing and chatting like old friends until I barge in.

Mr. Armani’s face twists into a deep scowl the moment he sees me and Mom.

Before he can open his mouth to bark at us, I reach into my pocket, pull out the cheque, slapping it down hard on the desk in front of him.

He frowns in confusion, picks it up, and reads it.

His expression shifts instantly from confusion to pure shock. His eyes widen as he stares at me.

“That is the full payment for everything my family owes you,” I say firmly. “Now, let my father go or I swear to God, you’ll be the one sitting behind that cell.”