03 You Must Obey

Natalie

Uncle Michael looked at me, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t warmth—it was control dressed as calm.

“It would be wise for you to act responsibly,” he said, his voice smooth but heavy. “Like your mother. A lot depends on this family’s money. Even your father couldn’t cut himself off completely. He might’ve lived outside the family estate, but he was still a Pierce.”

He leaned back slightly, as if laying out facts in a courtroom.

“Every business he started? Funded by the inheritance he got from our father. Your grandfather. Most of those ventures were just extensions of what we already owned. You see, our business moves in circles. And we’re smart enough to stay within them.”

Then he looked straight at me, voice colder now.

“If you refuse to follow the rules, then you and your mother can say goodbye to my support—and to your father's estate.”

I stared at him, stunned.

“You’re blackmailing us,” I whispered. “I won’t marry a stranger just to please you. And I bet you’d never do this to Alison. You wouldn’t dare throw your daughter to someone she doesn’t know.”

His expression didn’t shift—not even a blink.

“She understands her role,” he said simply. “I don’t blame you. I blame Brian. He shielded you from reality. Let you believe you could choose.”

He turned colder, harder.

“Know this, Natalie: you’re not to get involved with any boy at school. That’s not why you’re there. You’re at Cainebrielle to honor our name, build connections, and carry your father’s legacy forward. Do you hear me?”

I didn’t answer. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“Nicole,” he said, turning to my mother like she was the final piece he needed to fall in line.

She didn’t answer either. Her lips trembled. Tears filled her eyes and slipped down her face.

But then she drew a breath, voice shaking but clear.

“If Natalie doesn’t want the match… then I’ll stand with her.”

Silence followed. Heavy. Sharp.

Uncle Michael looked at her. Then at me.

And then—he laughed.

A quiet, bitter laugh that made my skin crawl. Like he’d just watched a child throw a tantrum and was humoring us both.

“You think you have a choice?” he said, still smiling. “You think loyalty is optional in this family?”

He wasn’t just trying to control us.

He was warning us.

“Trying to be brave for your daughter, huh?” Uncle Michael sneered, then let out a cold, humorless laugh.

“I wonder if Natalie will still feel so defiant once she finds out who’s been paying for your cancer treatment.”

His words sliced through the room like a blade.

I froze. My heart dropped.

Cancer.

I turned to my mother, wide-eyed. Her face crumbled, tears already falling.

“It’s nothing, darling,” she said quickly, voice shaking. “Don’t let him twist this to trap you. I won’t have you agreeing to anything just for me.”

But her words didn’t soften the blow. If anything, they made it worse.

“Since when?” I asked, barely able to get the words out.

She looked down, wiped at her eyes, and spoke through a choked breath.

“Two weeks after your father passed. I wasn’t feeling well, went in for a scan and check up. They found pancreatic cancer. Stage two. The treatment’s new—experimental—but Michael pulled some strings. Got me into a program here in Hawkshire.”

She looked up, eyes full of desperation and strength all at once.

“I am responding. The treatment is working. And I’ll be fine.”

But I couldn’t breathe. My thoughts spun. First Dad, now this? The idea of losing her, too, was unthinkable. Unbearable.

I couldn’t speak. I just nodded, even as everything inside me screamed.

Uncle Michael leaned back like a man who knew he had just checkmated us both.

“Well, since we’re all being honest now…” he said, almost smug. “I assume you no longer have objections.”

I swallowed hard, then found my voice, laced with anger and fear.

“What if I don’t like him?” I snapped. “What if we don’t click? Are you really going to force me into a loveless marriage? You and Dad didn’t have one—why should I?”

He laughed again, shaking his head.

“You think love is the point? Your father got lucky. But luck doesn’t build legacies. Strategy does.”

He leaned forward, eyes sharp.

“You're not here to fall in love, Natalie. You’re here to secure the Pierce name. Just like the rest of us.”

"How can you say love isn’t necessary?” I asked, my voice raw with disbelief. “A real relationship starts with love. Forcing me to marry a stranger? That’s the fastest way to build a life on resentment. I’d wake up every day next to someone I didn’t choose, and every time I looked at him, I’d remember I had no say. That’s not a marriage—it’s a prison.”

Uncle Michael didn’t flinch. He leaned back, calm in that twisted, calculating way of his.

“Love will be the least of your concerns when the time comes,” he said coldly. “Your father didn’t accept his match either. And look where that got him. Beaten so badly he wasn’t even recognizable when they found him. All because he left the estate, walked away from protection, and chose to ‘play house’ with a simpleton.”

His eyes cut to my mother.

“If he had just married who we chose for him, he'd still be alive.”

My breath caught. The words hit like a gut punch. He’d crossed a line so cruel, so far beyond decency, that all I could do was stare.

I wanted to lash out, say something that would wound him back—but when I looked into his eyes, there was nothing there. Just empty glass. No remorse. No soul. Arguing with him was useless.

So I stayed quiet.

Pretend to agree, I told myself. Play the game. Wait until Mom is safe—until she doesn’t need him anymore. Then run like hell.

Because no one deserved this. Not her. Not me.

The anger inside me simmered hot, and I didn’t bother hiding it.

Then my mother stirred beside me. Her voice, when it came, was soft—but unshakable.

“Brian never wanted Natalie at Cainebrielle. He never agreed to an arranged marriage. If this was so important, Michael, you should’ve sent your daughter. Alison would’ve appreciated the opportunity more. And since you claim she understands the system so well, maybe she’d be the perfect match for whoever you have in mind.”

She paused, then added, quieter still—but every word sharp as glass.

“Nicole and I don’t need much. You can keep Brian’s share.”

Uncle Michael stared at her. For once, he didn’t smile. And in that silence, I felt something shift. Not victory—but defiance. Quiet, rooted, and real.