Her Sins, His Rules

Chapter 003

Emery's POV

I stood there looking at him as if I hadn't heard him correctly.

"What?"

"I would begin packing if I were you. He said, completely expressionless, "You've already wasted ten minutes." Simply cold.

"Pardon me?"

"I was ready to go. You should move quickly. As if it didn't even concern him, he turned and left.

No, no, no"

This event is not taking place.

I can't allow such an event to occur.

I stormed into the living room after hurriedly leaving my room and going up the stairs two at a time. Mr. West sat quietly, drinking his tea, as if nothing had happened. With his legs crossed and a laidback demeanour, Garrett Lawson sat opposite him.

"What's happening here?" With fire in my chest, I yelled.

"Now that's how you say good morning?" Mr. West didn't even bat an eye.

"I refuse to accompany him!" With my heart racing, I gestured to Garrett.

"You don't have that choice, Emery. You're leaving. That's the end of it.

"No! You cannot treat me like a bag of laundry. I'm nineteen years old! I have the freedom to choose!

Before my father could move, Garrett was on his feet.

I didn't back down even though he approached me slowly. Our gazes met. He was at ease. Mine? Blazing.

I yelled, "I thought you said you were too busy to take care of me." "What changed, then?"

Flat as a board, he remarked, "your little performance last night." It demonstrated to me the necessity of rules and discipline. discipline. Your dad was correct.

I nearly bled when I bit my lip.

This isn't possible.

This was not the intended outcome.

I shook my head and muttered, "I'm not going anywhere."

He looked at his timepiece. "You have eighteen minutes remaining. I would make wise use of that time.

"You cannot make me do anything."

Without blinking, he gave me another look. "I'll take you with me when your time is up. Pyjamas or not

I looked at Mr. West as my throat constricted. He was unable to look me in the eye. His eyes dropped to the ground as if he were embarrassed. A small hole opened in my heart.

"All right!" I spun on my heel and yelled.

I hurried upstairs, shut my door, and flung myself onto my bed. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. Screaming into my pillow didn't help at all.

I began packing clothes into a suitcase. Jeans, hoodies. Anything within reach of my hands was included. I didn't even fold them. Every zip and toss felt like a surrender.

I sobbed more as I stood beneath the shower. It didn't help that the water was warm. My tears blended with it until I lost the ability to distinguish between the two.

Running? Running is not a good solution. No matter where I went, Garrett would find me. He did. And it wouldn't be ideal when he found me.

My chest ached even though my face was dry by the time I carried my suitcase downstairs.

A maid approached me. "Miss, may I assist you with your bag?"

I simply gave it to them. What was the point of fighting?

Garrett was already standing when he returned to the living room. Mr. West crossed his arms and watched.

Garrett said, looking at his watch as if I had failed a test, "You're twenty minutes late." "This time, I'll overlook tardiness, even though I don't tolerate it."

Do you want a medal?

He told my father, "I'll see you later, Henry." They shook hands as if they had just concluded a business transaction. I didn't hold out. I immediately left.

A gleaming black Cadillac was waiting outside. The driver opened the rear door. I sank into the seat as far away from Garrett as I could.

A few moments later, he joined me.

I kept my eyes off of him.

didn't say anything.

didn't flinch.

He simply gazed at the dark tint of the window.

After some time, he said, "You used to beg to come with me, you know." "When I told your dad that I was busy, you would cry and pack your bags days in advance. What changes did you notice?

I took a deep breath but remained silent.

There was a sting beneath his calm voice.

You behave as though I'm a monster. You act as though I could harm you. Is that truly your current perception of me?

I closed my eyes.

He was correct.

I loved him as a child. I would sit on the porch with my small backpack for hours, waiting to see his car. I wanted to spend every holiday with him. Even when he was late or exhausted, he never failed to bring me gifts.

However, things changed when I turned fifteen.

I evolved.

I no longer had innocent dreams about him. I began to think differently about him. I began to stay away from him. He also withdrew. Or perhaps he saw. I have no idea.

The vehicle became silent once more.

He sat in whatever cold place he goes to when he shuts down, and I sat there, lost in guilt.

We finally pulled into his driveway. As if anticipating our arrival, the gates opened.

After greeting us, the maid took my bag.

Quietly, I followed them inside.

Not much had changed in the house. The house was large, cost-prohibitive, and cold. similar to him.

Unsure of what to do, I stood clumsily close to the living room corner.

"Do you recall your room?" he inquired.

"My room?"

"Upstairs, the third one." Remember how you used it over the holidays?

I blinked. It had been years since my last visit. And yet he retained that room?

But he gestured to the couch before I could leave.

“Sit. We must speak.

My legs moved by themselves, even though I didn't want them to.

He yelled. "Jaxon, please take that file off my desk."

Jaxon left to go upstairs.

I sat looking at Garrett across from me, tense. He appeared too composed. I was always more afraid of his composure than of his yelling.

After a minute, Jaxon returned with a piece of paper.

Garrett said, "Give it to her."

Jaxon came over and gave it to me.

"What is this?" I scowled without grabbing for it.

Garrett said plainly, "Just read."

I snatched it from Jaxon, my heart already pounding.

The words at the top of the page simmered in my blood.

I read out loud, "Emery West's rules and expectations."

"What is this? Is this some sort of joke?

"While you're under my roof, you'll follow them."

I glared at him. “You think I’m a child?”

"Yes, provided you persist in acting in a consistent manner."

"I detest this."

"You don't have to like it."

I clenched my fists. "My life is not under your control."

"I am already."

I yelled, "You'll regret this."

"Hopefully not," he answered.

I got to my feet, prepared to yell. However, nothing came to light.

He was at ease.

Too quiet.

I was also on fire.