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2025-09-21 17:53:45
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under his control 70
The photo burned into my mind. Ava’s face was caught in the window of her apartment last night. Her body half-turned, unaware. The grain of glass between her and whoever was watching gave the picture a sick intimacy. It felt like a violation, more cruel than any knife. The words beneath it glared at me: You don’t know who’s watching.My hands clenched around the phone until my knuckles turned white. Rage stirred in me like fire. Ava stood beside me, silent, her breath uneven. She was trembling, not from cold, but from fear. My fear turned into something sharper an oath forming in my chest that no one would ever touch her again.But I couldn’t let her see me break. I tucked the phone away and pulled her against me. “They want us afraid,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “But fear is their mistake. Because I don’t run, Ava. I hunt.”She looked up at me, her eyes wide, wet with unshed tears. “Liam… What if they’re inside your world already? What if they’re closer than we think?”Her w
under his control 69
Ava’s POVThe paper shook in my hands. My name was there. Liam’s name too. Black ink, cold and sharp, a lie dressed like truth.Gregory leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting like he had finally drawn blood. “A fake marriage, Miss King? Or should I say… Mrs. Carter?”A ripple moved through the boardroom. Murmurs. Whispers. I could feel the heat of their stares pressing against my skin, clawing into me.“This isn’t what it looks like,” I said, my voice breaking even though I tried to sound steady.Gregory smiled wider. “It looks exactly like what it is. Fraud. Manipulation. A desperate attempt to keep control of Carter West through a marriage of convenience.”The walls felt too close. My lungs burned. I wanted to throw the paper away, to scream that I had never asked for any of this. But before I could, Liam stood.His chair scraped back against the polished floor, loud, final. His eyes cut across the table, sharp as knives. “Enough.”The murmurs stopped.“You think this piece of
under his control 68
The phone lay cracked on the nightstand, its screen bleeding white lines through the shattered glass. I stared at it, then at Liam. His eyes were not the calm gray I had grown used to in rare soft moments. They were iron. Cold, hard, unforgiving.“An emergency board meeting,” he said again, his voice low, steady, like he was forcing control over something that wanted to rip out of him. “And they want you there.”My throat closed. I clutched the sheets against my chest, my hands trembling. “Why me? What do I have to do with their games?”Liam came closer, sitting at the edge of the bed. His hand reached for mine, large, steady, grounding. “Because you’re not just in this anymore, Ava. You’ve become the center. Gregory knows it. The others know it. They want to use you.”“Use me?” My voice cracked.“Yes.” His thumb brushed the back of my hand. “They’ll call it transparency. They’ll dress it up as loyalty to the company. But what they really want is to see if you can be broken. If they c
under his control 67
The clock on the wall ticked too loudly in the silence. I sat up in bed, sheets tangled around my legs, the imprint of Liam’s body still warm beside me. But he was gone. No sound of water in the shower, no shadow in the doorway. Only emptiness.My hand shot to the pillow, pulling out the folded paper I’d hidden there. My father’s note. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe. He had written those words for me, and here I was, lying in the bed of the man whose bloodline had torn my family apart.I pressed the paper against my lips, trying not to sob. But the tears came anyway.The door opened suddenly, and I almost jumped out of my skin. Liam walked in, still wearing yesterday’s shirt, sleeves rolled up, collar undone, his face shadowed with exhaustion. He didn’t look at me right away. He just poured himself a drink from the decanter on the shelf and downed it in one go.“You’re awake,” he said flatly.“You didn’t come back last night.”“I was in the office.” His jaw clenched,
under his control 66
The paper I hid in my pocket burned against my thigh all night. Liam’s chest rose and fell beneath my cheek, steady, protective, and unbearably heavy. He slept like a man who had given everything, but I could not close my eyes. My father’s words were there, in his handwriting, rough and jagged, like a voice from the grave: If I fall, protect her.Protect me.I pressed the paper harder against my leg as though it could become part of me, a second skin. Liam stirred in his sleep, one arm pulling me closer, his lips brushing my hair like he was afraid I’d vanish. I didn’t move. I didn’t dare. Because if he woke up and saw the tears on my face, if he asked what I was thinking, I wouldn’t be able to lie.The dawn came slowly. Pale light spilled through the windows of the penthouse, painting the walls in gray. Liam woke before me, or maybe he hadn’t slept at all. He shifted out of bed, his body all muscle and tension, and walked to the window, staring down at the city like he carried its si
under his control 65
The papers from the envelope were still on the counter, scattered and heavy with truths I wasn’t ready to face. Liam had carried me to bed afterward, our bodies tangled, our breaths hot and shaky, like we were trying to erase the past by drowning in each other’s skin. But no matter how many times his mouth claimed mine, no matter how many times his hands mapped my body until I trembled, the weight of those papers stayed between us, like a third presence in the room.When I woke the next morning, Liam was already awake. He sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His hair was messy, his back tense. For a moment, I just looked at him. He was beautiful in a broken way, scars hidden under muscle, control wrapped over something wild and wounded. And I loved him. God help me, I loved him even when part of me wanted to hate him.“Liam,” I whispered. My voice was rough with sleep.He didn’t look at me at first. His jaw worked, hard and tight. Finally, he
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