Chapter 4
"Iris," Victor said slowly, closing the folder, "I've reconsidered."
He tucked the trust documents back into his desk drawer—and locked it.
"You don't get a cent until I decide you've earned it."
My hands flew up, signing frantically. *We had a deal. I married him. The contract—*
"Don't wave your hands at me," Victor snapped. "I can't understand that nonsense and I don't intend to learn."
Margot appeared at his shoulder, smiling tightly. "Iris, stop making a scene. Serena simply pointed out that we should take more time to evaluate whether this marriage is... genuine. After all—" she glanced at Serena with undisguised fondness, "—we want to make sure the Wolfe alliance is rock-solid."
Serena pressed her hands together, angelic. "I'm just looking out for you, Iris. Wouldn't want you to feel pressured."
Behind her parents' backs, her eyes glittered with triumph.
My mind roared.
"You planned this! You absolute snake—you whispered in his ear so he'd renege! You know I need that money NOW. Every week matters! And you—"
I couldn't finish the thought. My chest was too tight. Panic. Rage. The familiar sensation of walls closing in.
Victor stood. "You'll stay here until we sort this out. No leaving the estate."
He walked to the door.
Locked it behind him.
Click.
The sound echoed like a gunshot.
My lungs squeezed. Memories flooded—
Carl Briggs shoving me into the basement when I was nine.
Three days in the dark. No food. No sound but my own breathless, voiceless screaming.
The therapist's words: "Your mutism is trauma-locked. Your body learned that speaking means punishment."
I pressed my palms flat against the door, breathing hard.
Then I heard Serena's voice through the walls—light, laughing, victorious.
"Ezra, Iris is resting. She's so overwhelmed by the family reunion—you know how she gets. Why don't we have tea in the garden? Just like old times."
Silence.
Then: "Where is she?"
Ezra's voice. Low. Flat. Dangerous.
More silence from Serena.
Then a nervous laugh. "She's fine! Really! I'm actually the one who—"
"Which room."
Not a question. A command.
I didn't wait.
I grabbed the crystal bookend from Victor's desk, turned to the window, and swung.
The glass shattered outward—a cascade of glittering shards raining down into the garden below.
I gripped the window frame and looked down. Fifteen feet. Maybe more.
I climbed up onto the ledge.
My mind was white noise. I wasn't jumping to die—I was jumping to escape.
"Don't."
Arms locked around my waist. Iron-strong. Warm.
I was pulled backward so hard we both stumbled.
Ezra spun me to face him. His chest heaved. His eyes—usually dead calm—were blazing.
"Are you trying to die?!" His hands gripped my shoulders, voice barely controlled. "Over them? Over those worthless people? Are they really worth your life?!"
I stared at him. Chest pounding. Glass cuts stinging my palms.
My mind whispered, small and shaky: "I wasn't trying to die. I just needed to get out."
Something in his expression shifted.
His grip loosened—just slightly. His breathing steadied.
"Then next time," he said quietly, "let me open the door first."
---
He tucked the trust documents back into his desk drawer—and locked it.
"You don't get a cent until I decide you've earned it."
My hands flew up, signing frantically. *We had a deal. I married him. The contract—*
"Don't wave your hands at me," Victor snapped. "I can't understand that nonsense and I don't intend to learn."
Margot appeared at his shoulder, smiling tightly. "Iris, stop making a scene. Serena simply pointed out that we should take more time to evaluate whether this marriage is... genuine. After all—" she glanced at Serena with undisguised fondness, "—we want to make sure the Wolfe alliance is rock-solid."
Serena pressed her hands together, angelic. "I'm just looking out for you, Iris. Wouldn't want you to feel pressured."
Behind her parents' backs, her eyes glittered with triumph.
My mind roared.
"You planned this! You absolute snake—you whispered in his ear so he'd renege! You know I need that money NOW. Every week matters! And you—"
I couldn't finish the thought. My chest was too tight. Panic. Rage. The familiar sensation of walls closing in.
Victor stood. "You'll stay here until we sort this out. No leaving the estate."
He walked to the door.
Locked it behind him.
Click.
The sound echoed like a gunshot.
My lungs squeezed. Memories flooded—
Carl Briggs shoving me into the basement when I was nine.
Three days in the dark. No food. No sound but my own breathless, voiceless screaming.
The therapist's words: "Your mutism is trauma-locked. Your body learned that speaking means punishment."
I pressed my palms flat against the door, breathing hard.
Then I heard Serena's voice through the walls—light, laughing, victorious.
"Ezra, Iris is resting. She's so overwhelmed by the family reunion—you know how she gets. Why don't we have tea in the garden? Just like old times."
Silence.
Then: "Where is she?"
Ezra's voice. Low. Flat. Dangerous.
More silence from Serena.
Then a nervous laugh. "She's fine! Really! I'm actually the one who—"
"Which room."
Not a question. A command.
I didn't wait.
I grabbed the crystal bookend from Victor's desk, turned to the window, and swung.
The glass shattered outward—a cascade of glittering shards raining down into the garden below.
I gripped the window frame and looked down. Fifteen feet. Maybe more.
I climbed up onto the ledge.
My mind was white noise. I wasn't jumping to die—I was jumping to escape.
"Don't."
Arms locked around my waist. Iron-strong. Warm.
I was pulled backward so hard we both stumbled.
Ezra spun me to face him. His chest heaved. His eyes—usually dead calm—were blazing.
"Are you trying to die?!" His hands gripped my shoulders, voice barely controlled. "Over them? Over those worthless people? Are they really worth your life?!"
I stared at him. Chest pounding. Glass cuts stinging my palms.
My mind whispered, small and shaky: "I wasn't trying to die. I just needed to get out."
Something in his expression shifted.
His grip loosened—just slightly. His breathing steadied.
"Then next time," he said quietly, "let me open the door first."
---