CHAPTER 8- THE EXPERIMENT

GIDEON VALE

I could still feel her presence lingering in the hallway, like heat trapped in walls after a fire. Stubborn. Refusing to leave.

Ashton exhaled a low chuckle behind me.

“Well,” he said, dragging the word like he had all the time in the world. “I guess she listens. That’s new.”

I said nothing.

My gaze stayed fixed on the empty doorway.

“She didn’t run,” he added, pushing off the counter. “Also new.”

“She’s desperate,” I replied flatly.

Ashton hummed like he didn’t quite agree.

“Desperate people cry, beg or fold.” His head tilted slightly. “That one bites.”

My jaw tightened.

“I’ll tame that.”

The words came out calm. Certain.

It wasn't a threat- I didn't do threats- it was a fact.

Ashton went quiet for a second. I almost welcomed the silence, but he interrupted it with laughter. Ugly humourless laughter.

“Yeah,” he said. “You always think that.”

I turned to him, instinctively defensive.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His grin widened, but there was something else behind it now. Something watching.

“Means you like puzzles you can’t solve,” he said lightly. “And she’s not a puzzle, Gideon.”

He paused, “She’s a fire.”

My gaze didn’t waver.

“Fire burns out.” I quipped.

“Or it spreads,” he shot back instantly.

Silence stretched between us.

Thick and Heavy. We always did, rile each other up with indigestible opinions.

Then he shrugged, like none of it mattered.

“Either way,” he added, tone brightening again, “this is the most entertained I’ve been in weeks. So please—continue your little… experiment.”

Experiment.

The word echoed.

I didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

Because I already knew one thing—

He was right. This was my little experiment, nothing more.

I turned and walked out.

She was exactly where I expected her to be.

Back at the bar.

But not sitting. Of course not, she had to find one way to be defiant.

She stood behind the stool now, arms crossed, pacing just enough to betray the storm inside her.

Her head snapped up the second I entered.

And there it was again.

That fire.

Unfiltered, Untamed, Unwise, tempting.

“You done discussing my life and probably death?” she snapped.

I walked past her, going back to my barstool.

“Sit.” I pointed to the stool she was currently standing in front of.

“I’d rather stand.”

“If I tell you to sit. You sit.”

Her jaw clenched.

For a second, I thought she’d push it further.

Fight it.

But then, She sat, reluctantly so.

Controlled anger barely stitched together.

That was progress.

Ashton walked in behind me, completely at ease, like he wasn't infiltrating my space.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” he said, dropping into the seat beside her like they were old friends. I didn't like that at all.

She turned to him slowly.

“ I don't get. When did we become on nickname basis. If I remember correctly," she pointed at the tattoo on his forehead, "you came with your dirt bike buddies to my doorstep a few days ago to serve me papers that almost caused my mother a heart attack and ended me here, sucking up to a psychopath who should be in an asylum and not a CEO.”

He grinned purposely oblivious to her seething rage.

“Oh, I really like her.”

“I said don’t.”

That came from me. I didn't think, and that shocked me.

The room stilled for half a second.

Her eyes flickered to me, confusion etched into her features.

Ashton smirked.

Of course he did. He always noticed. He wouldn't let me live down this slip up.

I picked up the iPad from the counter and held it out to her, wanting to take charge of the atmosphere.

“Read.”

She didn’t take it immediately.

Just stared at it, suspicion clear on her eyes.

Curiosity fighting for dominance.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A lesson.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t sign up for a class.”

“No,” I said calmly. “You signed up for more than that. This is  just a part of it.”

A beat.

Then she snatched the iPad from my hand.

Aggressive.

Like even taking it had to feel like resistance.

Her eyes scanned the screen.

I watched the exact moment confusion turned into focus.

Then into something sharper.

Her brows pulled together.

Her lips parted slightly.

She read, and read, and read.

Good.

Let it sink in.

“Alfredo Gonzalez,” she muttered under her breath. “Seven million?”

Her head snapped up.

“You gave someone seven million dollars?”

Her voice climbed in disbelief and anger. She was very predictable.

“He asked for it,” I replied.

“That’s not,” she cut herself off, dragging a hand through her hair. “That’s not how this works. You don’t just hand out millions like...like candy to people who can’t pay it back!”

Ashton snorted softly.

“Candy,” he repeated. “Cute.”

She ignored him.

Her eyes locked on me.

“You don’t do background checks?” she demanded. “Financial history? Risk assessment? Anything?”

I said nothing.

Because this part—

This part mattered.

Ashton leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Let me ask you something, Matilda,” he said, voice lighter now. Curious. “When your father came to us…”

Her body stiffened.

“…do you think he came calm? Logical? Stable?”

Silence.

“He was desperate,” Ashton continued. “People like that don’t want questions. They don't think about the future. They don’t want delays, they want money. Fast. Now. Yesterday.”

Her grip tightened on the iPad.

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” Ashton agreed easily. “It doesn’t.”

That threw her off.

I could see it.

She expected resistance.

Excuses.

Not agreement.

“But right isn’t profitable,” he added.

Her gaze flicked between us.

Processing.

Struggling.

Good.

“Then what is this?” she demanded, shaking the iPad slightly. “You just wait for them to fail?”

I stepped closer. My eyes piercing into hers.

Slow and deliberate.

“We don’t wait,” I said quietly. “We know.”

Her breath caught slightly.

“We know who will crawl back,” I continued. “Who will drown. Who will choose the money anyway.”

I leaned just enough for my presence to press against hers again.

“They always choose it.”

Her eyes held mine.

I could see the anger drown into sadness and resignation.

“That’s twisted,” she whispered.

“It’s business.”

“That’s not business,” she snapped. “That’s exploitation.”

A small smile pulled at Ashton’s lips.

“Big words,” he murmured.

She ignored him again.

Still staring at me.

“You ruin people.”

I didn’t blink.

“They ruin themselves".

Her gaze dropped back to the screen.

She read again, Slower this time.

Like she was looking for something. A flaw, maybe a loophole, or a way out.

She wouldn’t find one.

“They signed,” she said finally.

“Yes.”

“They agreed to all these terms”

“Yes, they did” I enjoyed the despair on her face. The realization that she couldn't win.

Her voice dropped.

“So there’s no way out"

I watched it land.

Watched it settle in her chest like something sharp.

“None,” I said.

Her laugh came out hollow.

“Of course.” She placed the iPad down slowly.

Then she looked at me again.

She looked focused, dangerous in a new way.

“So what am I?” she asked.

I tilted my head slightly.

“Clarify.”

Her chin lifted.

“You said there's no way out. But I'm here. You have me a chance, a twisted, fucked up chance, but a chance anyway.” Her voice steadied. “So what am I in all of this?”

Ashton leaned back, watching now like this was better than any show.

I stepped closer.

Close enough to see the exact moment her pulse jumped in her throat.

“You,” I said quietly, “are someone who needs to learn that a smart mouth and nasty attitude doesn't do anything in the real world.”

Her brows furrowed.

“And you’re going to be my teacher?” she asked, sarcasm laced through the words.

“No.”

A beat.

“I’m not going to teach you. I'm going to break you.”

Silence crashed between us.

Her lips parted slightly.

Like she wanted to argue.

But didn’t have the words this time.

Good.

Because this? This was the shift.

I wasn't breaking yet. Just bending. Just testing.

Ashton clapped softly once.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Truly. I almost felt something.”

Neither of us looked at him.

Because this moment, This one? Wasn’t his.

Her gaze stayed locked on mine. She hated me. I could see it clearly.

And I realized something then.

Something quiet.

Something dangerous.

I wasn’t just watching her anymore.

I was waiting.

For what she’d become in this world I was dragging her into.

And that?

That was a problem.

Because I didn’t wait for anything.

I took.

I controlled.

I ended.

But her?

I was… watching.

Learning.

Anticipating.

A slow exhale left her lips.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said, softer now. “I’m still getting my house back.”

A corner of my mouth lifted.

“There it is.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“That delusion,” I said. “I was wondering when it would come back.”

Her spine straightened instantly.

“It’s not delusion. It’s determination. You can't scare me into resignation.”

“Oh Matilda" I drawled lazily, pulling a strand of her fiery hair, "I get off on making pretty girls break"