~Reynold’s POV~
"Tell me," he added, leaning back against the plush leather, "when you’ve decided what you want to eat."
"Sir," the driver called from the front seat, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror.
Frederick didn’t look away from me. "Yes?"
"Should we stick to the usual plan, or...?"
"Stop at the nearest restaurant first."
"Alright, sir."
I sat in stiff silence, a cold knot of suspicion tightening in my chest. What did he mean by that? Was he planning to keep me locked in his orbit, holding me hostage to some invisible debt until he grew tired of using my body? There was no way in hell I was going to let him sink his claws any deeper into my life. The moment an opportunity presented itself, I was going to run.
We drove in tense silence for a short while before the car glided to a smooth halt in front of a sprawling, ultra-exclusive restaurant with a gleaming glass facade and valets waiting at the doors.
We stepped out into the crisp afternoon air and walked inside together, immediately drawing attention. The staff parted like water for him, and every head in the dining room turned. Women at nearby tables paused mid-conversation, their eyes fixed on Frederick with open admiration.
But I didn’t care about any of it. My eyes scanned the room, taking note of every exit and quietly planning my escape.
Still, my stomach gave a sharp, empty pang. If I was going to run, I wasn’t going to do it on an empty stomach, especially not after being offered a meal on a billionaire’s dime.
We were led to a private corner booth. Frederick slid into the seat across from me, his dark gaze fixing on me.
"Place your order," he said softly.
I opened the leather-bound menu and stared. Half the dishes listed were things I had never even heard of, let alone knew how to pronounce. Refusing to look foolish, I picked a few items I vaguely recognized and added a few more out of sheer spite. If he was paying, I was going to make sure he felt it.
When the food arrived, the contrast was absurd. Frederick had ordered a modest, simple meal, while my side of the table was practically buried beneath an extravagant mountain of plates.
I didn’t wait for him. I picked up my fork and dug in, the food tasting so rich and delicious it nearly made me groan. I kept my head down, refusing to meet his intense stare or acknowledge the whispers and stares from the rest of the dining room.
At one point, I swallowed a bite too quickly and started choking, coughing violently into my napkin. Without missing a beat, Frederick slid a glass of water across the table.
"Slow down," he drawled, a dry smirk touching his lips. "I didn’t realize we were going to war."
I grabbed the glass, gulped down the water, and glared at my plate, muttering a silent retort.
Rich people always know how to run their mouths.
True to form, I cleared every single dish I had ordered while Frederick barely touched his food. Classic rich-person problem.
When the plates were finally cleared away, I set my napkin down and gave him a tight, polite smile. "I need to quickly use the restroom before we leave."
"All right," he said, leaning back. "Be quick."
I grabbed my backpack, hoisted it over my shoulder, and offered him a stiff, formal bow. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Corvin."
I knew for a fact I wasn’t coming back to this table.
He didn’t say a word. He simply watched me with those sharp, unreadable eyes.
I turned and walked briskly down the corridor toward the restrooms. The moment I slipped inside, I didn’t stop. I yanked my heavy, dark hoodie from my backpack, pulled the oversized hood deep over my head, and headed toward the back service exit on the opposite side of the building.
The cool afternoon air hit my face like a blessing as I slipped into the alleyway. Without looking back, I hurried around the corner to the main street, frantically flagged down a passing taxi, and climbed into the back seat.
"Take me to Saint City’s west side," I breathed, my pulse racing as the taxi pulled away.
The bright afternoon sun beat down mercilessly as the taxi sped through the bustling streets of Saint City. I pulled out my phone and dialed Julian.
He answered on the second ring, his voice tight with relief. "Reynold? Where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to reach you, but I couldn’t get through. Aren’t you back from vacation yet?"
"I’m back in the city," I said, my chest still tight. "There’s so much to tell you, Julian. Have you resumed for the semester? Are you back at the university?"
"Yeah, I’m back. That’s why I’m calling. When are you resuming?"
"I’ll tell you later. I can’t talk about it right now."
"All right, man. I’ll be waiting. Call me."
The call ended, and I rested my head against the back of the seat, my body still sore and aching. I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I just needed to stay strong for myself.
After a long, agonizing drive under the glaring afternoon sun, the taxi finally pulled up in front of my father’s house. I paid the driver, took a deep, shuddering breath, and stepped out into the heat.
The anger and betrayal that had been simmering inside me since the hotel came rushing back. I was ready to walk through those doors and demand answers. Why had my own family treated me like a parcel, trading me off without a second thought?
I pushed open the front door and stepped into the living room, blinking against the bright light streaming through the large windows.
The entire family was gathered. Thomas and Deacon stood near the door with their bags packed, preparing to head back to university. My father and his wife sat comfortably on the sofa, looking entirely too relaxed, smiling and acting as if nothing had happened.
The second Deacon spotted me, his face lit up.
"Reynold? You’re back!" He turned toward the room and raised his voice. "Mom, Dad, Reynold’s back!"
He looked genuinely happy to see me, but I knew better. Deacon was a master of performance, the kind of person who wore a permanent fake smile and pretended to care, even though underneath it, he was just as rotten as the rest of them.
At least Thomas didn’t bother hiding his disdain. He was twenty-two, a senior in his final year, and had always made it clear that he despised me. Deacon, twenty years old and a third-year student, was the toxic hypocrite who smiled to your face while twisting the knife behind your back.
Out of everyone in this house, the only person who truly loved me was my fifteen-year-old younger sister, Lily, who wasn’t even in the room right now.
As for me, I was only a second-year, first-semester student, trapped in a nightmare I never asked for.
When my stepmother saw me standing there, I foolishly expected a shred of guilt, an apology, or at least a look of remorse.
Instead, she shot up from the couch, stormed across the room, and slapped me hard across the face.
A sharp sting bloomed across my cheek. I raised a trembling hand to the spot, staring at her in disbelief.
"How dare you come back to this house!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls. "We left you there so you could be useful, to help salvage this family, and you just walk back here? Why? How did you even manage to return? Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’ve caused us?"
I glanced past her at my father, who sat motionless, looking at me as if I were nothing more than a piece of dirt on his shoe.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my stepmother cut me off, her venomous words spitting straight into my face.
"You’re just like your mother. Useless! A burden!"
She kept screaming, her voice drilling relentlessly into my ears, but I didn’t cry. Tears were a luxury I couldn’t afford, and I’d endured her abuse for too long to break now.
Finally, my father raised a hand.
"Enough."
Hearing his voice, a pathetic, desperate spark of hope flared in my chest. I thought he was finally going to defend me.
Instead, he looked at me with cold disappointment.
"I’m glad you’re back, Reynold. I don’t care how you managed to return to Saint City, but you should have stayed abroad for a few more months so you could continue helping your father."
"You wanted me to stay with a man old enough to be my grandfather?" I asked, my voice shaking with disbelief.
"I didn’t mean it like that, Reynold," my father sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "You’re helping your family. You shouldn’t look at age."
I shook my head, a bitter laugh dying in my throat.
He motioned toward the empty seat beside him. "Come closer."
I forced my legs to move, walking over and sitting down on the edge of the couch.
"You should have thought about your mother and listened to us," he lectured softly, putting on his best hypocritical mask of parental concern.
"If I stayed," I choked out, "what would have happened to my future?"
Thomas scoffed from the doorway, crossing his arms. "It’s not like you actually have a future anyway. Why worry about something that doesn’t exist?"
"Silence, Thomas," my father snapped half-heartedly, turning his focus back to me. "Think about the expenses, Reynold. You’re just starting a new semester. I have to pay your tuition, but the company is failing. I couldn’t afford the fees for all three of you. I’ve already paid for your brothers; it’s only yours left." He stared me dead in the eyes. "Do you want to drop out of university?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "No."
"That’s why you need to do what we say." He leaned in closer. "Mr. Mike will be here by next weekend. Be ready for him. He will take care of you, and once he does, I’ll finally have enough to pay your university fees. Okay?"
The realization crushed down on me like a physical weight.
"You want me to use my body to save your company so you can pay for my tuition?"