<b>Chapter </b><b>147 </b>


    HUNTER-


    69%


    The numbers on myptop screen swim together like tears I refuse to shed. Quarterly reports. Profit margins. Growth predictions.


    All of it meaningless when the only thing that matters is forty–three floors below me, locked away in a penthouse that’s be more prison than home.


    My chest constricts with that constant, crushing weight. The coffee in my cup has gone cold hours ago, untouched.


    Two months since I brought Celine home. Two months since I made the decision that’s slowly killing us both.


    The door to my office doesn’t knock. It never does when Vincent has reached his breaking point.


    “We need to talk.”


    I don’t look up. If I meet his eyes, I’ll see the disappointment written there. My fingers hover over the keyboard, frozen.


    “Make an appointment with Sarah. I’m busy.”


    “Cut the shit, Hunt.” His voice slices through me like ss. “You know exactly why I’m here.”


    That tone–I know that tone. It’s the same one he used in college when he’d find me three days deep in a bender, when he had to drag me out of whatever hole I’d crawled into.


    I finally lean back, meeting his eyes. “Enlighten me.”


    He’s standing in my doorway, fury burning in his dark eyes, disgust tightening his jaw, heartbreak sagging his shoulders despite his rigid posture.


    “I just came from the penthouse.” He closes the door behind him, and the soft click echoes like a death knell. “Interesting renovations you’ve made.”


    A cold smile tugs at my lips. “The security upgrades were necessary.“”


    “Necessary?” He moves closer, hands trembling. “You’ve turned your home into a prison, Hunter. Biometric locks, armed guards, surveince cameras…..”


    “Not in every room. I’m not a monster.”


    “Aren’t you?” He ms his palms against my desk. Coffee sloshes over quarterly projections. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”


    I lean back, trying to project calm while inside I’m screaming. “I have secured my family. There’s a difference.”


    “Your family?” Hisugh is broken, hollow. “Is that what you call holding a woman prisoner?”


    “Celine is carrying my child.” The words feel like swallowing razor des. “After everything… after the lies, the betrayal, she’s proven she can’t be trusted with her own safety.” <fn31b3> Latest content published on f?ndnovel</fn31b3>


    “So you decided to y God?” Vincent runs his hands through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Hunter. Do you even hear yourself?”


    I close myptop with deliberate care, “She ran, Vincent. She took Caesar and disappeared for days. She would have done it again.”


    “Maybe because you gave her reason to run!”


    The words hit like a sledgehammer. I stand slowly. “Careful. You’re walking a very thin line.”


    “Am I?” His eyes sh with something I’ve never seen before–pity.


    “The Hunter I knew, the man who built an empire from nothing, whomanded respect through strength and intelligence—that man wouldn’t resort to keeping a woman against her will.”


    “That woman is the mother of my children.”


    My voice cracks on ‘children,‘ and I hate myself for it.


    Caesar, who spent three years thinking his father didn’t want him. The baby who will be born into this mess I’ve created.


    “And you’re the father. Act like it.” Vincent moves around my desk, invading my space. “What do you think Caesar is going to think when he finds out Daddy locked Mommy in a cage?”


    Ice floods my veins. Caesar, who looks at me like I hung the moon. Caesar, who I’ve failed in every way that matters.


    “He’s too young to understand….”


    “He’s not stupid, Hunter. Children see everything. They feel everything.” Vincent’s voice breaks, tears on his cheeks.


    “He’ll know something’s wrong, and when he’s old enough to put the pieces together… you’ll lose him too.”


    “I won’t lose anyone.” The wordse out as a whisper. “Not again.”


    “Then stop acting like a psychopath and start acting like a man.” Vincent’s words find every insecurity I’ve buried. “You want to keep your family together? Try love instead of locks. Try trust instead of threats.”


    I turn to the floor–to–ceiling windows. Somewhere down there, people are living normal lives. Going to work,ing home to families who choose to stay.


    “You don’t understand what it’s like to lose everything that matters. To watch it slip through your fingers because you weren’t strong enough to hold on.”


    “I understand that you’re destroying the very thing you’re trying to protect.” His voice is softer now, but it cuts deeper. “Celine will never forgive you for this. And deep down, you know it.”


    He’s right. But the thought of releasing her, of giving her the chance to disappear again, makes my chest tighten with panic.


    “She doesn’t have to forgive me.” I press my palm against the cool ss. “She just has to stay.”


    “That’s not love, Hunter. That’s ownership.”


    “Sometimes they’re the same thing.”


    The silence stretches between us, heavy with twenty years of friendship and everything we’re not saying.


    “I’ve known you for twenty years,” Vincent says finally.


    “Watched you build something incredible from nothing. Seen you be ruthless in business, calcting in negotiations, cold when you needed to be. But I’ve never seen you weak.”


    I turn to face him, expression carefully neutral. “I’m not weak.”


    “Mo? Then what do you call this?” He gestires toward the door


    “You’re so terrified of losing her that you’re willing to be the viin in het story You’re so scared of being abandoned that you’ve guaranteed a


    “She’s not leaving. I’ve made sure of that.”


    “You’ve made sure of nothing.” Vincent’s eyes are sad now, disappointed in a way that cuts deeper than anger.


    “You think those locks and guards will keep her with you? They’re not keeping her, Hunter. They’re keeping you from Raving <i>to </i>face the


    truth.”


    “Which is?”


    “That you don’t trust her because you don’t trust yourself. You don’t believe you’re worth staying for, so you’re forcing her to stay. But forced love isn’t love at all–it’s just another form of hate.”


    The words hit their mark, finding the wound I’ve been trying to ignore.


    “She betrayed me,” i say quietly. “Lied to me. Kept Caesar from me for three years.”


    Three years of bedtime stories I didn’t read. Three years of a little boy wondering why his daddy didn’t love him enough to stay.


    “And now you’re doing worse to her.” Vincent moves closer, voice urgent. “You’re taking away her choice, her freedom, her dignity. You’re making her a prisoner in her own life.”


    “I’m protecting her.”


    “From what? From you?” Vincentughs bitterly. “You’re not protecting her from some external threat. You’re protecting yourself from the possibility that she might choose to leave.”


    I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because he’s right.


    “I won’t watch you destroy yourself,” Vincent continues. “Or her. Or Caesar, who worships you. This ends now, Hunter. You let her go, or I walk away from twenty years of friendship.”


    The ultimatum hangs in the air like a sword.


    Vincent has never made idle threats. But the thought of releasing Celine makes my chest tighten with panic so acute I can taste copper.


    “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”


    “I understand perfectly. I’m asking you to be the man I’ve always believed you were, instead of the monster you’re bing.” Vincent straightens his jacket.


    “You have forty–eight hours to make this right. After that, I’m done. With the business, with the friendship, with all of it.”


    He turns to leave, but pauses at the door.


    “You know what the saddest part is? She probably would havee back on her own. If you’d given her time, if you’d shown her the man you could be instead of the tyrant you’ve be… she might have chosen you.<i>” </i>


    The door closes with a soft click, leaving me alone with his words and the city sprawling below.


    My phone buzzes with a text from Eric. Subject is resting. Prenatal appointment confirmed for tomorrow at 2 PM.


    Subject. That’s what Celine has be a problem to be managed, an asset to be controlled.


    Not the woman who used tough at my terrible jokes, who made pancakes shaped like dinosaurs for Caesar, who whispered my name like a prayer in the darkness<b>. </b>


    I stare at my reflection in the ck screen of myptop.


    The man looking back at me is a stranger–cold, calcting, consumed by a need to control that’s slowly destroying everything I im to


    protect.


    But I can’t let her go. Won’t let her go.


    Because love without possession isn’t love at all.


    It’s just another word for loss.


    And I’ve lost enough for one lifetime.


    My reflection stares back at me from the darkened window, and for the first time in months, I see myself clearly.


    I see the monster I’ve be.


    The question is: is it toote to find the man I used to be?