Chapter 64 - 63 Support My Dreams
Emily
"You destroyed your hands. Explain this. Now."
Pain is a highly effective teacher. The man staring down at my bleeding palms presents an entirely different kind of threat.
Alistair holds my wrists in a vice grip. His thumbs press lightly against my pulse points. The contrast between us is jarring. He wears a pristine charcoal suit, perfectly tailored to fit his broad shoulders. His dark hair is styled with immaculate precision. I am sweaty, exhausted, and bleeding onto his polished marble bathroom tiles.
"Explain this," he says again. His tone brooks zero arguments.
I try to pull my arms back. He holds firm. The raw skin throbs under the bright vanity lights, but the warmth of his touch makes my heart skip a few beats. I remember what he said about not catching feelings for him, and I take a deep breath. Remember, this is all just business to him and a contract where both parties have their obligations.
"I was training," I say. "In the armory. With the practice pistol."
Alistair steps closer. His expensive cedar cologne mixes with the metallic smell of my own blood. He examines the deep red abrasions crossing my fingers. The frown on his face deepens the longer he looks at my hand.
"Do you truly desire to become stronger?" he asks.
I look down at my ruined hands. The torn skin stings fiercely. I think of Silas Hunt pressing a heavy silver revolver to my head just hours ago. I think of Thomas Vance and Lydia locking me in a dark, mildewed storage room without food or water. I think of Julian Thorne and his cheating lies.
"Yes," I say. I lift my chin and meet his dark eyes. "I want strength. People treat me like collateral damage. They bully me. They oppress me. I am done being a victim. I want to be able to protect myself when I’m alone and not always look to someone for help."
Alistair studies my face. He searches for any sign of hesitation, and I don’t think he finds any. The rigid set of his jaw softens a fraction.
"Go find Leo," Alistair says. He releases my wrists. The sudden absence of his body heat leaves my skin cold, but I try not to think about it. "Tell him to take you to the infirmary. Have a doctor clean those wounds."
"I don’t need the infirmary." I reach for a white cotton towel. I dab at the moisture on my fingers. "A simple bandage is fine."
Alistair grits his teeth, and for some reason, he chooses not to push. He turns toward the door. His polished leather shoes click against the floor. He stops right at the threshold. He slowly turns back to face me.
"What authorization terms did you discuss with Dr. Aris today?"
My stomach drops. The question catches me completely off guard. I tighten my grip on the towel. The rough cotton scrapes a fresh blister. I wince.
"Did you already look into my meeting?" I ask. I cross my arms over my chest, hiding my hands.
Alistair narrows his eyes. The temperature in the room plummets. He senses my evasion immediately.
"I don’t need to look into your meetings, Emily," he says. His voice drops an octave, sharp and freezing. "I knew you met with the doctor, and now I am asking you a direct question on what the meeting was about."
I swallow hard. The marble floor feels like ice beneath my bare feet. I don’t understand why I got so defensive. "I suggested Dr. Aris find me a business partner."
"A partner." Alistair tilts his head. He seems to be analyzing the information in real time. "You intend to contribute your technical formula in exchange for equity. You don’t want a one-time payout."
"Yes." I stand taller because I don’t sense any judgment from him. It makes me more confident. "I want long-term growth. I want shares."
"Your ambitions are considerable." He takes a single step back into the bathroom. He traps me under his intense gaze, and my skin prickles. "Is contributing technical expertise your only condition? Is that all there is to it?"
I bite the inside of my cheek. The metallic taste of copper coats my tongue. He reads me like an open book. Lying to him is pointless.
"No," I say. I drop my arms to my sides. "I gave him a second condition. I want to attend Etland Medical University."
ALISTAIR
The words hang suspended in the humid air of the bathroom.
I want to attend Etland Medical University.
I stare at her. She stands barefoot on the cold floor. Her dark hair falls in messy waves around her pale face. Her hands are bloody and raw from hours of relentless training. She looks physically fragile. Yet she possesses a spine made of pure titanium.
My previous assessment was completely wrong. I thought she just wanted to learn how to shoot a gun to protect herself from local thugs. I thought her desire for strength was purely a physical defense mechanism.
Her ambition is all-encompassing.
She wants an empire. She wants an education. She wants equity in a pharmaceutical company. She refuses to sit quietly in my massive estate and play the role of a dependent, pregnant wife. She is carving out her own territory. She is entirely unique.
The corner of my mouth pulls upward. A cold, sharp smile forms on my lips. I deal with corporate sharks every day. Most people want a quick payout. She wants a legacy. I appreciate ruthless ambition.
Emily sees the smile and seems to misinterpret my expression.
Her shoulders slump instantly. The defiant spark in her dark eyes extinguishes. She looks down at her ruined hands. Her voice shakes.
"I know what the contract says." She takes a step back until her hips bump against the porcelain sink. "I know my primary duty is to bear this child. I know why we got married. But I don’t want to abandon my dream of pursuing an education. I will not give it up."
She grips the edge of the sink. She winces as the pressure aggravates her blisters.
"If I have to wait, I will wait," she continues. Her words tumble out fast. "I will delay my admission until after I give birth. I will fulfill my end of the bargain first. But I am going to be a doctor, Alistair."
I remain perfectly still. The silence stretches between us. The steady drip of water from the gold faucet echoes loudly in the large room.
She thinks I view her as an incubator. She thinks I find her ambition amusing or as some kind of joke. She doesn’t realize that I see it as the complete opposite.
"You can go," I say.
Emily stops talking. Her mouth snaps shut. She blinks twice.
"I consent to the university arrangement," I continue. I keep my tone even. "However, the campus environment is chaotic. I will arrange for Leo to take a position at the university. He will act as a member of the security staff or administration. He stays close to you at all times."
Emily snaps her head up. Her dark eyes widen to the size of saucers. She takes a tentative step forward.
"Are you serious?" she asks. Her voice is a breathless whisper. "You actually agree? You’re letting me go to medical school?"
I cross my arms over my chest. I stare down at her flushed face with a slight frown.
"Why did you think I wouldn’t agree?" I ask.
She looks away. She rubs her thumb over a raw scrape on her index finger. "Because of the baby. Because of the contract. Because of how everyone has treated me in my life. I assumed my sole value to you lay in my ability to bear children. A pregnant student is a liability. I thought you would lock me in this house until the term was up."
A sharp irritation flares in my chest. I don’t like her assessment of my character. I don’t like her assessment of her own worth, and I don’t like the fact that the people in her life have treated her less than she’s worth.
I close the distance between us in two long strides. I stop inches away from her. The scent of her floral shampoo fills my lungs. I reach out and lightly grip her chin with my right hand. I tilt her head back. She gasps softly. Her eyes lock onto mine.
"We need to set the record straight," I say. I keep my voice absolutely steady. "You are not a prisoner. You are my wife. You possess a brilliant medical mind. Restricting you to a bedroom is a profound waste of talent. You will attend the university. You will secure your equity."
Her breath hitches. Her lips part slightly. The vulnerability shining in her eyes is completely raw.
"I don’t expect you to abandon your dreams for this arrangement," I continue. I drop my hand from her chin. "I expect you to succeed. Now, go to the infirmary and get those hands bandaged. You can’t perform surgery with infected wounds."
I turn around and walk out of the bathroom without waiting for a response. The heavy oak door clicks shut behind me.
I walk down the long, carpeted hallway of the master suite. My mind races. I pull my phone from my suit pocket and dial Leo’s number. He answers on the first ring.
"Sir," Leo says.
"Contact the administration office at Etland Medical University," I instruct him. "I am making a sizable donation to their security infrastructure. In return, you are taking a permanent position on their campus staff. You start whenever the new term begins."
"Understood, Sir," Leo replies. "Is there a specific threat I should monitor?"
"No." I pause at the top of the grand staircase. "Just ensure my wife has an unobstructed path to her degree."
I hang up the phone. I look out the massive bay window overlooking the estate gardens. The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns.
Emily Vance is a complicated variable. I structured this marriage to be a simple, transactional necessity. I needed an heir. She needed a shield. It was supposed to be a sterile business arrangement.
But watching her stand in that bathroom, bleeding and defiant, shifted the equation entirely. She refuses to be sidelined. She demands her own power.
I slide the phone back into my pocket. A strange sense of anticipation settles in my gut. I want to see exactly how high she can climb.