~ His Coffee Girl ~

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Amiir's voice delivering that ultimatum like he was discussing the weather rather than threatening to make my life miserable.

Sixty days. The number cycled through my head on repeat, a countdown to my own execution.

But I refused to let him see how much he'd scared me. I dragged myself out of bed, took a hot shower, and dressed in my most professional outfit—a tailored navy suit my mother had bought me.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the garage, ready to get my keys.

But when I reached it, one of Amiir's men was waiting by the key cabinet. Marcus, or maybe Martin, I couldn't keep track of all the security personnel who seemed to materialize out of thin air whenever Amiir wanted to keep tabs on me. 

  "Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood." The name sounded wrong from a stranger's mouth. "I'm afraid your vehicle isn't available this morning."

I blinked at him. "What do you mean? It's right there."

I gestured to where my BMW was parked in its usual spot, the dark blue sedan that had been a gift from my father on my twenty-first birthday.

One of the few things I had left that still felt like mine.

  "Mr. Blackwood has given instructions that you're to use one of the other vehicles in the garage," the man continued, his tone maddeningly professional, like he was just doing his job and couldn't possibly understand why I might have a problem with this. 

  "That's my car. A gift from my father. Amiir has absolutely no right to decide when and how I use it."

  "I'm just following orders, ma'am." His expression didn't change. "Mr. Blackwood has been very clear about the vehicle protocols."

I reached for the key cabinet, but he smoothly blocked my access without touching me.

  "I really can't let you do that, Mrs. Blackwood. But I have the keys to the Camry right here." He held up a different set of keys, dangling them like a consolation prize. "It's a perfectly good vehicle, very reliable—"

I snatched them from his hand, my fingers closing so hard the metal bit into my palm. "This conversation isn't over."

I didn't trust myself to say anything else without completely losing my composure, so I just turned on my heel and stalked over to the Toyota Camry.

--------------

The drive to Blackwood Industries—because of course Amiir had renamed my father's company, erasing the Whitlock name like we'd never existed—was a blur of rage. By the time I pulled into the parking garage, I'd worked myself into enough fury that I bypassed my office entirely.

I went straight for the elevator, jabbing the button for the top floor.

The doors opened on the executive suite. Cordelia, Amiir's personal assistant, looked up from her desk as I came out. Her eyes widened, and she immediately stood, moving to stop me.

  "Mrs. Blackwood." Her tone was saccharine, dripping with false politeness. "I'm so sorry, but Mr. Blackwood is in a meeting right now." She stepped directly into my path, one perfectly manicured hand raised. "He specifically asked not to be disturbed. Perhaps you could schedule an appointment?"

The condescension in her voice was unmistakable. She'd never spoken to me like this when I was Sir Whitlock's daughter.

  "I don't need an appointment to see my husband." I tried to step around her.

She moved with me, blocking my way again. "I understand you're upset, but barging into executive meetings really isn't appropriate." A small, cruel smile played at her lips. "Maybe you should go back downstairs and compose yourself first? You look a bit... disheveled."

Something in me snapped.

  "Get out of my way, Cordelia." I hissed.

   "I really can't let you—"

I pushed past her, already at his door, pushing it open without knocking.

Amiir sat behind his massive desk with three men in expensive suits who all turned to stare at me.

  "I'm so sorry, Mr. Blackwood!" Cordelia rushed in behind me, slightly out of breath. "I tried to stop her, I explained you were in a meeting, but she just wouldn't listen."

Amiir held up one hand, cutting her off. "It's fine, Cordelia. You can go."

She shot me a look before retreating and closing the door. I didn't acknowledge the other men. My entire focus was on Amiir.

  "You are hell-bent on frustrating me, aren't you?" The words rushed out. "Taking everything wasn't enough—my home, my name, my freedom—you had to take my car too? The one thing my father gave me that I still have, and you just decide I can't use it because of your stupid vehicle protocols?"

One of the men cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Amiir looked at his guests. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse us."

They couldn't leave fast enough. Papers shoved into briefcases. Chairs scraping, and within seconds, they were gone.

Amiir sat back, cracking his fingers. "Are you okay? You don't look well, Lara. You seem disturbed."

The false concern made me want to scream.

  "I am agitated! I want you to call off your men and give me back my keys. That car is mine, and you have no right—"

  "No right?" He laughed. "That's interesting, considering I have every right. You're obviously still in denial about how drastically your situation has changed."

He stood, moving around the desk. "Power has changed hands. I am your husband, which means I have legal ownership of everything that was once your father's. The company, the properties, yes, but also the smaller things. The cars. The jewelry. All of it."

  "My father has a daughter—"

  "But not a son." He cut me off smoothly. "Which means the inheritance passes to the next male in the direct line. That's me, Lara. By the law of our clan, I own you and everything he left behind. And whatever I say is final."

The casual way he said "I own you" made my stomach turn.

  "And the car?" He continued like he was discussing quarterly earnings. "That's not even the only thing I'm changing. I've also let go of the household chef. From now on, you'll be preparing our meals. I don't want strangers handling my food when I have a perfectly capable wife."

I stared at him. "You want me to cook for you? Are you completely insane?"

  "I want my wife to fulfill her duties. And speaking of duties..." He gestured toward the door. "On your way out, stop by Cordelia's desk. She has your new job description."

  "My new—what are you talking about? I already have a job description."

  "You had one. When you were Sir Whitlock's daughter, getting preferential treatment. But that's over. From now on, you work according to your actual qualifications, same as every other employee."

He waved his hand dismissively, already returning to his monitor.

I left his office on shaking legs, my fury giving way to despair.

Cordelia was back at her desk. And I could see the excitement on her face when she saw me, before she switched it back to professional.

  "He said you have something for me," I managed to say, proud that my voice didn't crack.

  "Yes, Mrs. Blackwood." She pulled out a manila folder with obvious satisfaction. "Your new employment file."

I took it, staring at the tab: **Lara Blackwood**

The folder felt heavy in my hands as I opened it, my eyes scanning the first page looking for my position, my responsibilities, my...

  **Position: Administrative Support - Coffee Services and General Errands**

The words swam in front of my eyes. I blinked, certain I was reading wrong. But there it was. My new job. My new role in the company my father built from nothing.

Cordelia watched me with barely concealed satisfaction. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" The false sweetness in her tone made it clear she was enjoying this.

I wanted to scream. Wanted to throw the folder in her smug face.

  "No." The word came out hollow. "There's nothing."

I walked to the elevator in a daze, clutching the folder. People were starting to arrive for the day, and I could feel their eyes on me, could hear the whispers starting up as I passed.

They all knew. Of course they all knew. Amiir wouldn't have made these changes quietly. He'd want everyone to see my fall from grace, to witness how completely he'd broken me down from my father's daughter to his obedient little wife who made coffee and ran errands.

The elevator doors closed. I slumped against the wall, the folder slipping from my fingers.

**Lara Blackwood - The errand girl**

This was my life now. Not my father's capable daughter. Not even a regular employee.

I was Amiir Blackwood's wife. His property.

His coffee girl.