Page 39 of Fallen Heir

My jaw clenched. Rage flickered low in my chest like a flame waiting to ignite.

I didn’t say a damn word. But one thing was crystal clear in that moment: He’d have to go through me to get to her. And I’d burn the whole damn world down first.

She stayed curled into me like letting go might break her all over again. And I should’ve just held her. I should’ve just let her breathe.

But I didn’t. Because now it was my turn to fix something.

And the truth was—

I was going to use her vulnerability to get what I wanted.

Because I wantedher.

Not just to protect.

Not just to fix.

I wanted her in my life.

In my space.

Where I could keep her close—and never let her slip away again.

I pulled back just enough to look at her. "Will you let me help you?"

She blinked up at me, wide-eyed and hesitant. Then came the softest gasp.

"No… this is my mess. I can fix it."

Her voice cracked on the last word, but the resolve was still there. She was trying so damn hard to be strong. Even now—shaking, broken, mascara streaked across her cheeks—she still thought she had to carry it alone.

I could’ve told her everything right then. Told her how much I already knew. How long I’d been watching the shadows around her. That I knew what name was tied to her accounts, who signed off on the shell trusts, the real estate transactions her father used to bury the truth.

But in this moment, that would terrify her. That would break what little trust I was starting to earn. And I was earning it, she was telling me bits of her story now. So I bit it back. All of it. And leaned into the one thing I could give her without lying—safety.

“You don’t have to fix it alone,” I said carefully, like every word mattered. Because they did.

“You don’t have to tell me everything… but tell me enough. Let me help.”

Her gaze wavered while I sat motionless. This was the moment I needed. I needed her to agree. To say yes. Because I was going to protect her one way or another—and it would be a hell of a lot easier if she consented to it.

We sat on the bathroom floor longer than I expected. Long enough for my back to start aching against the cold tile. But I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I knew the rules. I knew the first one to talk would lose—and I wasn’t about to break what little control I had left. So I waited.

Her breathing slowed. The tremble in her hands softened.

And finally, she spoke.

“...He’s not a good person,” she said softly, her voice nearly lost in the quiet between us. “But I don’t think I can decline help right now.”

She hesitated, then added, “I can’t tell you everything… but I can pay.”

That was her way of asking for help without saying the words.

And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her pay for anything—But she didn’t need to know that now.

I nodded once, keeping my tone steady. “Did you see him at the gala? Is that why you left?”

Her eyes widened.