<b>Chapter </b><b>92 </b>
The room smelt of polished wood and aged scotch, and
grandfather clock in the far corner of the office ticked with’s slow, ominous rhyth
Matthew Elton sat behind his massive mahogany desk, Ingers inteced, eyes sharp. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone–just kit always was when business tumed personal
The silence in the room has deliberate, thick with unspoken tension.
Across from him sat two men.
One, older. Greying hair dressed i i elegant suit. The years had softened his face but not his spine,
He looked every bit the patriarch of a family that had wed its way into elite circles through blood, sweat, and strategic marriages.
The other one was younger with sharper edges, and he looked like the older man.
A smug smirk was sprawled across his lips. His legs were crossed in that way men did when they thought they owned the room, with all the arrogance of someone who’d <b>never </b>heard the word “<b>no</b><b>” </b>in his life.
“You promised,” the older man finally said, his voice gravelled with age and displeasure. “Two years ago, you gave me your word, Matthew, You <b>said </b>your daughter would finally marry my son. Yet here we are, and I hear she’s tangled up with Alejandro Garcia of all people.”
Matthew didn’t flinch, as he was used to confrontation. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he remainedposed.
“She is. Unfortunately. But not by choice.”
The younger man scoffed <b>under </b>his breath, shaking his head. He was sharp–featured, handsome in a cold sort of way, and dressed to be seen–pressed <b>navy </b>suit, an expensive watch peeking out from his sleeve, and the smug confidence of entitlement practically boring from his pores.
“Not by choice?” he repeated <b>with </b><b>a </b>sneer. “Come on, Matthew. Your daughter’s been all over the mediately<b>. </b>On his arm. In his car. Living in his house, isn’t she? That doesn’t exactly scream ‘unwilling.””
“Careful, Damon,” Matthew said smoothly, but his eyes shed. “You forget yourself”
Damon lifted both hands in surrender, but it was done as a <b>sign </b>of mockery. “Forgive me. Just calling it as I see it.”
The old man exhaled through his nose, slow and irritated. “You said she’d be trained. Prepared. That she’de to understand her duty.”
“She was doing just that,” Matthew replied tightly. “Until Alejandro Garcia got <b>involved</b>”
He rose from his seat and walked around the desk, pouring himself a drink from the crystal decanter on the side table.
“I’m saying Alejandro Garcia is maniptive,” Matthew <b>replied</b>. “He’s <b>a </b><b>snake</b>, A master of control and coercion. He has her isted. Trapped. Twisting her emotions into something she doesn’t understand. If you think for a second she’s acting of her own ord, then you’re severely underestimating the
boy<b>.</b>”
The older <b>man </b>scoffed upon hearing Matthew’s words.
“I raised my daughter to see through such men, but even the brightest minds <b>have </b>their blind spots. He found hers.”
“I find it difficult to believe Nivera is so easily fooled,” the older man said carefully. “Your daughter was never the naive type.”
Matthew’s gaze turned hard. “No, she isn’t. That’s what makes him dangerous. He knew how to get under her skin. She’s alohe in that house, isted, vulnerable. He’s turned her against her own family. She’s not hersell.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “Sounds like excuses. She’s stubborn, not stupid, if she’s with him, it’s because she wants to be. You can’t me me for being <b>pissed </b>
You’re entitled to be angry Matthew cul in, <b>voice </b>low and cold, “hut year’re not entitled to question the <b>value </b>of my word.
That shut Damon up for a moment, anyway, for he looked like he wasn’t done speaking
Matthew turned back to face them, holding the ss delicately between two fingers. “The situation has changed, yes. But the agreement sta daughter will marry your son as soon as the two years are up.”
Then get her away from him,” Damon snapped, leaning forward now, his calm facade cracking. “I’ve waited for years. She was finally supposed to be mine at the end of two years. Now she’s ying house with that bastard–with a man who has more blood on his hands than most crime syndicates
“Don’t let jealousy cloud your judgement,” Matthew waned.
“Alejandro Garcia may be dangerous, but he’s also calcted. You, Damon<b>, </b>are emotional. You need to learn the difference if you ever want to wig her
over
“He’s not better than me.<b>” </b>
“No,” Matthew said simply, “but h
the’s louder. shier. More ruthless. You’ll need more than entitlement to win her now?
Damon’s nostrils red. “I don’t care how ruthless he is. She’s mine. Always has been, I’ve had my eye on her since she was young. Everyone knew she was going to marry into this family eventually”
The older man sighed, but he said nothing.
“Then start acting like someone she’d choose,” Matthew said with mild disdain. “You think this is about waiting your turn? No. This is about proving yourself better than him,”
Damon leaned back <b>again</b>, jaw ticking. “<b>You </b><b>said </b>it yourself this was arranged long before she ever met him. I shouldn’t have to fight for what’s owed to
<b>me </b>
“I did say that,” Matthew agreed. “She was promised, yes. But my daughter is not a horse you can stake a im on. She’s headstrong. Too smart for her own good. If you storm in and act entitled, she’ll only push back harder.”
“That was what the two years were supposed to do,” the old man finally said. “It was supposed to break her so she’d be easier to deal with<b>.</b><b>” </b>
Matthew turned to the older man. ” gave you my word, and I stand by it. But we must act strategically. Alejandro <b>Garcia </b>is not someone we confront head–on–not yet. He <b>has </b>too much influence, too many eyes watching. We need to be quiet. Surgical.”
The old man gave a slow nod. “And how do you propose <b>we </b>o
<b>do </b>that?”
Matthew sipped his drink, eyes thoughtful. “First<b>, </b>we separate her from him. That’s the only way. We need to get <b>her </b>alone. Iste her from his influence. From his maniption.”
He paused to take a sip of his drink, “My daughter…is slipping further into his world. She doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s being shaped. Moulded, controlled.
“Then pull her <b>out</b>,” Tobias, the older man<b>, </b><b>said </b>tly. “You’re her father. You still have influence.”
Matt
‘d of inft
ation.”
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