Not a Puppet

"I am not your puppet, Edward ."

Abigail slammed the front door shut, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she stormed into the lavish living room.

She had barely made it through the office today, her mind had been clouded with the weight of her father’s betrayal, the cold deal she had been forced into, and most of all the smug arrogance of Edward Dante.

And now, as if her day wasn’t already hell, they were all here.

Her father. Her mother. Sophia. And him.

Edward sat at the far end of the room, legs crossed, sipping a glass of whiskey like he owned the place. Like he owned her.

Her blood boiled.

"You," she seethed, pointing a shaking finger at him. "Get out."

Edward didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He merely tilted his glass slightly, watching her like she was an amusing spectacle. "I live here now, sweetheart. You might want to get used to it."

Her breath hitched. “The hell you do.”

Lucas stood from his seat, his frail hands raised as if to calm her. "Abigail, please…"

"Don’t!" she snapped, spinning toward him. "You don’t get to ask me to calm down. Not after what you did to me!"

"Abi…"

She turned to Sophia, whose eyes were filled with silent guilt. "And you knew, didn’t you?"

Sophia flinched. “I..”

"You let them sell me off like some business transaction, and you just sat there?"

"Abi, we didn’t have a choice," Mariana whispered.

Abigail let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "A choice? Oh, you mean like the choice I was never given?"

"Enough."

Edward ’s voice cut through the room like a blade. Cold. Commanding.

Abigail turned to him, her anger flaring into something uncontrollable. "No, Edward , it is not enough. I am not done!"

He set his glass down with a soft clink, rising slowly. "You will be."

Her pulse spiked. "Or what? You’ll have me thrown into a contractually obligated cage and call it marriage?"

Edward smirked. "You’re already in it, sweetheart."

The reminder made her stomach lurch, but she refused to let him see her break. "I will make your life miserable."

His gaze darkened. "I’d like to see you try."

Fury surged through her veins, and before she could stop herself, her palm met his cheek with a sharp, resounding slap.

The room fell deathly silent.

Sophia gasped. Mariana covered her mouth. Lucas looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

But Edward ?

He didn’t even flinch.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he turned back to face her, his expression unreadable.

Then he smirked.

"Fiery," he mused, licking the inside of his cheek. "I expected that."

Abigail’s chest rose and fell, her breath ragged. “You…”

"You’ve made your move," he interrupted, voice eerily calm. "Now, it’s my turn."

A shiver ran down her spine.

Edward took a step forward, towering over her. "I don’t care if you hate me, Abigail. I don’t care if you fight me every step of the way. But let me make one thing very clear."

She swallowed hard as his voice dropped to a chilling whisper.

"You will come to me on your knees."

Her breath caught.

"And when you do," he continued, his smirk deepening, "you’ll remember this moment. You’ll remember how you thought you had the upper hand."

Her fists clenched. "I will never…"

"Oh, but you will," he cut in smoothly. "Because, sweetheart…" He leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear. "I always win."

Abigail shoved him away. "Get out of my house!"

Edward let out a low chuckle. "Your house?" He turned, glancing at Lucas. "She still thinks this is hers?"

Lucas lowered his head in shame.

Edward looked back at Abigail, tilting his head slightly. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but everything in here, including you is mine now."

Her stomach churned.

Edward adjusted his cuffs, casting one last glance at her before turning toward the door. "I’ll see you soon, darling."

With that, he walked away, leaving Abigail standing there, breathless, shaking, and burning with a rage she had never felt before.