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Chapter Seventeen

last update Last Updated: 2026-01-05 17:03:46

Theo kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot, the final thud echoing too loudly in the space Camilla had just vacated.

“She doesn’t like me,” he said casually, like we were talking about a barista who got his name wrong.

I didn’t answer. Just took a long drink from the latte that had gone lukewarm in my hands.

Theo turned toward me, his jacket hanging open, that cocky tilt to his mouth still lingering. “Old friend of yours?”

“Don’t,” I said quietly.

He raised a brow. “Don’t wh
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  • His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender   Chapter Forty

    "You have twenty-four hours to decide. One day. You will follow the easy route—on the plane with Martha, willingly, to a secured residence in New York—or we go the hard way. The paperwork is already drawn up for the emergency protective custody order. I simply sign it, and you lose everything. Choose wisely, Sofia. This is the last choice you get to make."He didn't wait for my response. He shoved himself away from the wall, his power suddenly massive and overwhelming, and stalked away, his long strides carrying him down the stairs. The heavy thud of the front door closing moments later was the only sound, leaving the entire house to vibrate with the residue of his anger.I stood there, paralyzed, listening to the silence.Twenty-four hours.He had given me a deadline, a terrifying window of control before he erased my entire world. He didn't know that twenty-four hours was all I needed.My breath finally hitched, but I wasn't crying. I was calculating.New York. The word felt like a

  • His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender   Chapter Thirty Nine

    Sofia’s PoVThe question—a choice between two nightmares—hung in the air, thick with the scent of his cruel authority. My lungs burned, but before I could summon a retort, before I could choose a lesser evil, a sound cut through the toxic silence.Soft, sleepy footsteps padded down the wooden stairs.“Mummy? Daddy?”My head snapped toward the sound. Martha.She stood halfway down the staircase, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. Her face was pale, and her brow was furrowed with the kind of confusion only a child detects when the adults are playing a dangerous game.“Are you fighting?” she whispered, her small voice terrified and small in the expansive, angry hallway.The sheer, immediate terror on my face must have been enough.Theo recoiled instantly, stepping back from me as if scalded, the cold mask of the predator cracking to reveal the anxious father underneath. He didn't want her to see this. He never wanted her to witness his control, only his protection.I didn't wai

  • His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender   Chapter Thirty Eight

    The word hung there, massive and devastating.“I have the resources, Sofia. I have the power, the connections, the demonstrable ability to provide protection, security, and a permanent, safe future in a city where I can personally ensure nothing touches her. You are fighting to keep a temporary life in a place that has already proven unsafe. You think a judge won’t look at the threats, the warnings, and see a mother whose emotional trauma is clouding her judgment about her daughter’s safety?”I watched the color drain from her face. I knew what I was suggesting was monstrous, a self-immolation that would destroy any faint hope of reconciliation. But if it meant Martha and Sofia lived, I would burn everything down, including us.But then, the chilling reality of the threat hit me, too. If I went through with this, I would win the battle for safety, but I would lose Sofia forever. I would shatter the fragile, tentative truce we had established, the careful co-parenting life we had buil

  • His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender   Chapter Thirty Seven

    The house stayed quiet for the next hour.Too quiet.I sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on my knees, the letter crumpled in my fist. I kept replaying everything—Martha crying, Sofia’s shaking voice, the way the words on that paper laughed at us. At me.Every second that passed only made the anger rise higher, tighter, hotter.I checked my phone twice.No reply yet.But he would call.He always did.Footsteps sounded upstairs—soft ones, tired ones. Sofia was trying to comfort the kids while keeping herself together. I could hear her murmuring quietly to Martha, telling her she was safe, telling her Daddy was here.I clenched my jaw so hard I felt it in my teeth.Daddy was here… but it wasn’t enough today.Then the doorbell rang.I stood up immediately, expecting a message from him to follow, but nothing buzzed on my phone.Right.Aire’s driver.Sofia came down the stairs holding Aire gently by the shoulders. He looked calm now, tired, but okay. She walked him to the door an

  • His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender   Chapter Thirty Six

    Theo’s PovI kept driving, but my mind wasn’t on the road anymore. It was on that letter. On Martha crying. On Sofia shaking beside me. On the fear I saw in both of their eyes.Something inside me snapped the moment I saw that paper in her hands.The old part of me.The part Sofia hopes never comes back.I’ve spent years keeping that side under control—calm, careful, measured. I’ve tried to be better. I’ve tried to keep my head down and live a quiet life for them. For Sofia. For Martha.But this?Scaring my daughter?Making Sofia believe our child was taken?Laughing about it?No.No. That crossed a line no one should ever cross.My fingers tightened around the steering wheel until my hands hurt. I could barely see straight from the anger building in my chest. I wanted to slam my fist through something—anything—but I kept myself steady because Martha was in the back seat… and Sofia was holding her so tightly.I swallowed hard and kept my voice low.Not now. Not in front of them.But t

  • His Terms, My Surrender: Unfinished Surrender   Chapter Thirty Five

    We didn’t make it to the ice cream place. The cheerful plan, the little reward we had promised them, felt impossible now, dissolved by the sting of that cruel, mocking letter. Theo’s hand found mine, his grip tight, grounding me, but even that comfort felt fragile under the weight of everything. Martha’s small fingers clung to mine, trembling slightly, her little body stiff with lingering fear. Each step back to the car felt impossibly heavy, every sound from the school—the laughter of other children, the shout of a teacher, the clang of a playground swing—echoing through me like it carried some hidden threat. The memory of her crying, the terror in her voice as she told us about the ghost and the letter, replayed relentlessly in my mind.Tears blurred my vision, and I forced myself to swallow back a sob. How could someone do this to a child? To my child? Even the thought of it made my chest tighten so sharply it was hard to breathe. Martha’s innocence, her excitement about the play,

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