The Price of Loyalty

Without a doubt, I chose the plant.

The mutated milk thistle was something that could save Brandon's life—would save him. My history, where I came from? Not knowing was not going to kill me.

"The plant," I said, my voice dead firm. "I need the plant."

Madam Marsh raised an eyebrow, her face flicking with surprise as if family history was somehow more important than someone's life.

"You're not curious about your family?"

"Of course I am, but my brother's life is more important."

"They are not your brothers, Jasmine," she said coldly, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. "It's best for you to make that clear now, before they start looking to gain benefits using the Marsh name. A line must be drawn."

Oh, the nerve. They had saved me. They had made me into who I am, while the Marsh family had brought nothing but problems to my door.

An image of Noah flashed through my mind for a split second, but I did my best to ignore it.

Seeing I had no intention of speaking with her—there was no point, really, though I would certainly use every advantage for my brothers' benefit—she simply sighed.

"You really are Stephan's daughter."

Before I could question her, she turned toward the garden doors.

"Follow me."

I expected us to leave the estate entirely. Instead, Madam Marsh led me through a secluded stretch of formal gardens to a massive, climate-controlled glass greenhouse tucked against the rear boundary line of the property.

As the heavy glass doors hissed open, the humid, ozone-rich air hit my face.

Inside, beneath rows of specialized UV growing lamps, sat not just one or two specimens... but dozens. Entire tables were lined with silver-patterned, mutated milk thistle plants.

My heart stalled. This wasn't a rare backyard garden finding. This was an industrial-scale cultivation.

Why would the Marsh family be mass-growing a plant whose sole known application was neutralizing high-grade, military neurotoxins? What did they need this much antidote for?

"You had all of this here the entire time?" I whispered, my eyes sweeping over the silver-veined canopy.

"Of course," Madam Marsh said calmly.

I closed my eyes, drawing in a sharp breath to keep my temper anchored. She’d made me attend a gala, enter a fake betrothal, and endure Sophia's hysterical tantrums when the one thing keeping Brandon alive was being mass-produced in her backyard.

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

Madam Marsh stepped over to a sleek, sealed bio-transport container resting on a central worktable. Beside it lay a leather-bound folder with two sets of legal documents.

She didn't open the container. Instead, she rested her gloved hand flat over the biometric latch.

"The sample is fully prepared for transport," Madam Marsh said, her voice dropping into a smooth, unyielding register. "The active enzymes are stabilized. But you do not touch this case until you sign one of these two contracts."

My jaw tightened. "We had a deal."

"We had a negotiation," she corrected smoothly. "Option one: you sign the petition to void your legal emancipation and officially return under the Marsh family umbrella. Option two: you sign the formal betrothal agreement with Noah Sterling."

She was backing me into a corner. Voiding my emancipation meant giving her full legal control over my life, my freedom, and my status with my brothers. That was out of the question.

"Give me the pen," I said, reaching for the betrothal contract.

I scanned the heavy legalese quickly, my eyes skimming down the pages until a specific clause near the bottom caught my attention.

Section 4, Clause B: Upon formalization of the union between the designated Marsh heir and the chosen Sterling successor, majority control of all combined family assets, holdings, and subsidiary enterprises shall immediately vest jointly in both married parties.

My heart took a hard beat.

This wasn't just a political marriage to unite two families under their elders' thumb. Whoever married me wouldn't just inherit a seat—they, along with me, would gain total majority control over both the Marsh and Sterling empires.

No wonder Cesar was pushing for a quick wedding. No wonder the Sterling patriarch turned it into a bloodthirsty competition. The power written into this paper was absolute.

I uncapped the pen and pressed it down, signing Jasmine Hayes in sharp, unyielding strokes.

Madam Marsh frowned as she looked down at the signature line. "You did not write Marsh."

"My legal name is Hayes," I said coldly, setting the pen down. "And until I decide otherwise, it stays that way."

She stared at the signature for a long second, her icy eyes narrowing with a quiet, terrifying certainty. The way she looked at me sent a cold prickle down my spine. A suffocating weight pressed into my chest—a sudden, sharp sense of being trapped.

I was signing the betrothal paper to dodge the emancipation petition tonight, but that look said everything. To Madam Marsh, this wasn't a defeat. It was just a tactical delay. She viewed my freedom as a temporary illusion, silently confident that it was only a matter of time before she systematically stripped away my protections and brought me under the Marsh thumb.

I had to play this smart. I just had to hold out, maneuver around her traps, and survive until I turned eighteen. Once I reached full legal majority, no court petition or family maneuver in the country could undo my independence.

Madam Marsh tapped the biometric lock on the bio-transport case. The latches clicked open, revealing the living, pre-cut specimen resting securely in a nutrient gel matrix.

"A bold choice," Madam Marsh murmured. "You retain your legal emancipation, but your fate is now bound to the Sterlings."

I grabbed the heavy case, pulling out my phone to dial Victor immediately.

"Jasmine? Ready to leave?" Victor answered on the first ring.

"Not yet. Put Nathan on the call."

Once both brothers were listening, I spoke. "I have it. Madam Marsh had the mutated milk thistle prepped and ready in her greenhouse."

A beat of absolute silence hung on the line.

"The plant?" Nathan asked, his voice tight with suppressed anxiety. "Is it viable?"

"It's a high-grade specimen, pre-cut and stabilized in a transport casing," I said, locking the case firmly into my grip. "Nathan, have the cold centrifuge ready. We're coming home."

"Already running," Nathan said, a heavy wave of relief echoing through the speaker. "Get back here."

"I'm on my way," I said, ending the call.

I turned back to Madam Marsh. The sight of the endless rows of silver leaves behind her burned into my memory.

"Your father was much like you, Jasmine," Madam Marsh said suddenly into the quiet room.

I paused at the threshold. "In what way?"

"When someone mattered to him, nothing could persuade him to abandon them." She stepped closer, her icy gray eyes unreadable. "He would have sacrificed everything for the people he loved... and in the end, he did."

"I'll be back for the rest of my father's story," I told her, my grip tightening on the case. "And to find out why you're growing a war's worth of antidote."

"I know," she replied smoothly. "And I will be waiting."