The silence stretched, thick with Delmar's smug expectation. He watched Arden, seeing only the fragile shell of the sister he had always been able to manipulate. He saw the slight tremor in her hands, the way her gaze was fixed on some distant point beyond the window, and mistook it for defeat.
But Arden wasn't seeing the manicured lawns. She was seeing the fire. She was feeling the crushing weight of the ceiling beam that had pinned her down. She remembered screaming for help, her voice raw and useless against the roar of the flames. She remembered fighting back in her past life, screaming and crying and throwing things, only to be held down by orderlies and injected with sedatives that turned her mind to fog.
Resistance was suicide. They had all the power.
Her only weapon was their perception of her weakness.
Slowly, she turned her head back to face him. She let her shoulders slump, her eyelashes flutter down to cast shadows on her pale cheeks. She summoned every ounce of remembered despair and let it fill her expression.
"You win, Delmar," she whispered, her voice a hollow, broken thing. "I'm tired of fighting."
She saw the flicker of triumph in his eyes.
"I'll do what you want," she continued, her voice barely audible. "I'll break the engagement. I'll... I'll wish them well."
Inside, a vow was hardening into something unbreakable. From this moment, I, Arden Monroe, am no longer a part of your family. And I will take back everything you stole from me.
"This is for the best, Arden. You'll see," Delmar said, his voice dripping with condescending magnanimity. He had gotten what he wanted, and it had been easier than he'd expected.
Arden didn't acknowledge his empty words. She looked at him, her eyes wide and empty. "I want to go home," she said, her voice small. "Today."
A sliver of suspicion entered his eyes. He narrowed them slightly. "What are you planning?"
Arden let out a dry, humorless laugh. It sounded like breaking glass. "Planning? Home? I mean the Monroe estate. Where else can I go?" She met his gaze, her own filled with a raw, believable bitterness. "My trust fund is frozen, isn't it? My accounts are locked. You've made sure I have nothing left. What could I possibly plan?"
Her logic was flawless. Her helplessness was absolute. It was the perfect argument.
Delmar's suspicion evaporated, replaced by a comfortable sense of superiority. She was right. A penniless, disgraced woman with a history of mental instability was no threat. Keeping her at the estate, under their watch, was better than leaving her here to potentially become a liability.
"Fine," he said, standing up. "I'll arrange for your discharge. But you will behave yourself. No scenes, no drama. Understood?"
Arden gave a numb, puppet—like nod.
Satisfied, Delmar turned to leave. As he reached the door, his phone buzzed. He answered it, his back to her. "Kallie, sweetheart."
His voice transformed. The cold, commanding tone he used with Arden melted away, replaced by a sickeningly sweet, indulgent affection. "Yes, it's all taken care of... No, she wasn't difficult... Of course, darling. Brenden will be all yours, very soon. I promise."
Each word was a drop of poison, corroding the last vestiges of any familial bond between them. He was comforting her replacement with promises built on her destruction.
He hung up and glanced back at Arden, his eyes cold with a final warning. Then he was gone.
The instant the door clicked shut, the mask of fragility fell from Arden's face. The brokenness vanished, replaced by a look of such chilling, murderous resolve that it would have terrified Delmar.
Jennie rushed in, her eyes swimming with tears of outrage. "Miss, why did you agree? This is so unfair! They can't do this!"
Arden reached out and took Jennie's hand, her grip surprisingly strong. Her eyes, no longer empty, burned with a cold fire.
"Jennie," she said, her voice low and steady. "This isn't surrender. It's the beginning of our war."
