My father checks his watch impatiently. "We've wasted enough time on explanations. Penelope, you will accept this arrangement like the adult you claim to be. The wedding will take place before Violet's, as Mr. Blackwood and I have agreed."
"And if I refuse?" I challenge.
"Then you force my hand." Gage's expression remains impassive. "I withdraw legal protection from your father and return you to exactly the position you would have been in five years ago—except now, with a public scandal attached to your name."
I stare at him, searching for any sign of compassion or doubt. There is none. Just calm certainty and the unwavering belief in his right to determine my future.
"You're both despicable," I say quietly.
My father scoffs. "Always so dramatic. You're being offered marriage to one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the country. Most women would be grateful."
"Most women aren't being traded like cattle to cover their father's crimes."
Gage rises, moving to stand by the window near me. "I understand your anger, Penelope. But consider this from another perspective. Your life these past five years—the independence you've valued, the business you've built—none of it would have been possible without the protection I've provided. Even your rebellion has been enabled by the very arrangement you're now rejecting."
The cruel irony isn't lost on me. The freedom I've cherished has been an illusion all along, a gilded cage with invisible bars.
"How can I possibly trust anything about this situation?" I ask, my voice low. "How can I believe that whatever 'choice' I make won't just be another manipulation?"
"Because I've never lied to you," Gage replies simply. "I've monitored you, yes. Protected you from a distance. But I've never misrepresented my intentions or the reality of our situation."
My father snorts derisively. "This is absurd. She doesn't need coddling or explanations. She needs to fulfill her obligation to this family."
"William." Gage's voice carries a definite warning now. "Remember your position in this arrangement."
Something in his tone makes my father pale slightly. He sets down his empty glass with a sharp click. "Fine. Handle it your way. But the timeline stands. The wedding happens before Violet's."
He stalks toward the door, pausing beside me. "For once in your life, Penelope, think of someone besides yourself." Then he's gone, the door closing firmly behind him.
I remain by the window, arms wrapped protectively around myself. "He acts like I'm the villain in this scenario."
"Your father sees the world through a very specific lens," Gage observes. "One where family obligation outweighs individual desire, and where appearances matter more than ethics."
"And how do you see the world, Mr. Blackwood?" I turn to face him. "Through what lens do you justify stalking and emotional blackmail?"
He considers the question seriously. "I see it through the lens of necessity. Of taking what's mine when it's offered. Of protecting investments."
"Is that what I am to you? An investment?"
His gaze is unsettlingly direct. "Initially, yes. A strategic acquisition with potential value beyond the immediate advantage of having leverage over your father."
"And now?"
Something shifts in his expression—a momentary softening, quickly masked. "Now, you're a complication I hadn't anticipated. Your resilience, your independence... they're admirable qualities, even if inconvenient to my plans."
"Yet you still intend to force this marriage."
"I intend to honor an agreement made in good faith," he corrects. "And to give you time to adjust to the reality of your situation."
I turn away, unable to bear his unwavering certainty. "How generous."
"More generous than your father would prefer," Gage says dryly. "He advocated for a more... expedient approach."
A chill runs through me at the implication. "Meaning?"
"Meaning he suggested we proceed immediately, without this period of adjustment I'm offering."
"And why didn't you?" I challenge. "If I'm merely an investment, why bother with my consent at all?"
