I Married My Father’s Creditor

Chapter 8

at the campus curb in the black SUV, holding the rear door open with terrifying punctuality. I slid into the leather seat in silence, staring out the tinted glass as Manhattan blurred past us.

When we pulled into the underground garage of Damien’s building, I expected Bruce to hand me over to the private elevator and go about his business. Instead, he followed me all the way up.

The elevator doors chimed, opening into the cavernous, quiet luxury of the penthouse foyer. I froze.

Stacked near the marble entrance were four large canvas duffel bags and a cardboard wardrobe box. My belongings. The faded stickers, the scuffed fabric, and the worn handles looked completely absurd resting against the polished tile.

A sudden spike of anger flared in my chest. "I told him I wasn't moving in today," I snapped, turning around to glare at Bruce. "Take them back. I am not accepting this."

"Mr. Voss’s orders were explicit, Miss Carter," Bruce said, his face an unreadable mask of military discipline. "Your lease at your old apartment has been legally transferred, and the keys have been surrendered."

"I don't care about his orders! I'm not keeping these here—"

"Ari?"

The soft, hesitant voice cut straight through my growing rage.

My breath hitched. Stepping out from behind Bruce’s broad shoulder was a small, familiar figure wearing an oversized faded denim jacket and holding her worn canvas backpack against her stomach.

"Whitney?" I whispered, my eyes widening in utter disbelief. "What... what are you doing here?"

My younger sister took a small, uncertain step onto the marble floor, her sneakers squeaking softly. She looked terrified, her wide brown eyes darting around the massive ceiling, the glass walls, and the minimalist artwork before finally settling back on me.

"Bruce came to the apartment to clear out your room," Whitney said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "He said you were moving here permanently now. I... I begged him to let me come along. I told him I just wanted to see you one last time before you were completely gone."

A heavy knot formed in my throat. I completely forgot about Bruce, the luxurious apartment, and Damien Voss. I stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and wrapped my arms tightly around my younger sister. Whitney buried her face into the shoulder of my white Gucci hoodie, clinging to me like she used to when we were little and storms rolled over the city.

"You're not losing me, Whit," I murmured into her hair, tightening my grip. "I'm still here. I'm always going to be your big sister."

After a long moment, she pulled back just enough to look up at me. Her dark eyes were rimmed with red, heavy with a burden no teenager should ever have to carry.

"Ari... you have to know how bad it is at home," Whitney whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the words. "Mom isn't strong. She hasn't eaten a full meal since you left. She just sits in Dad's old armchair staring at the front door, crying until her eyes are swollen shut."

I stiffened, a cold wave of bitterness washing over me. "Whitney, you don't understand what she did—"

"I do know!" Whitney cut in, tears finally spilling over her eyelashes. "I know about the contract. I know she made a terrible mistake with Dad's loans. But Ari, she is drowning in regret. She is completely broken."

Whitney reached out and grabbed both of my hands, her small fingers shaking against mine.

"We already lost Dad," Whitney sobbed softly, the raw pain in her voice tearing straight through the defensive walls I had built all morning. "Dad is gone, Ari. And now you're living in this... this gilded fortress with a man we don't even know. Mom isn't going to survive this. And neither am I if I have to watch both of you fall apart. Please... don't discard her completely. We can't lose you the way we lost Dad."

I stood frozen in the middle of the grand foyer, my heart breaking into a thousand jagged pieces. I looked down at my sister’s tear-stained face, seeing the exact same terror I had felt the night our father died in the hospital room.

The anger I held against my mother didn't vanish—it was far too deep for that—but seeing Whitney shattered like this killed every ounce of my pride.

"Oh, Whit," I choked out, pulling her back into my arms and burying my face in her neck as my own tears finally broke through. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, baby girl."

We stood there holding each other in the center of Damien Voss’s cold, lifeless home, two sisters holding onto the wreckage of a broken family.

"Miss Carter," Bruce’s low, respectful voice broke the silence a few minutes later.

I wiped my cheeks with the back of my sleeve and turned to look at him.

"Mr. Voss will be returning from the office in twenty minutes," Bruce said quietly, pointing toward the duffel bags and the luggage. "I need to know whether I am bringing these inside your wing, or loading them back into the vehicle."

I looked at my shabby, worn duffel bags sitting on the pristine floor. Then I looked at Whitney, who was watching me with anxious, hopeful eyes.

Moving in meant surrendering to Damien’s control. It meant accepting that my life as I knew it was over. But leaving meant abandoning my sister to deal with the aftermath alone.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a deep, shaky breath.

Bring them inside, Bruce," I said, my voice barely more than a cracked whisper. "Put them in my room."

Whitney let out a shuddering, tearful breath of relief and threw her arms around my neck one last time. I squeezed her tight, burying my face in her hair, trying to memorize the scent of our old home—detergent, faint lavender, and cheap vanilla perfume—before this sterile, marble fortress washed it away forever.

"I have to get you back before it gets too late," Bruce said gently, stepping forward.

I pulled away from Whitney slowly, smoothing her tangled hair back from her wet face. "Call me the second you get home, okay? Do not hide anything from me. If Mom gets worse... if you need anything, you call me immediately."

"I will, Ari," Whitney sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She took a step toward the elevator, looking back at me with eyes so full of sorrow it physically hurt to breathe. "Please take care of yourself. Don't let this place change you."

"Never," I promised.

The silver elevator doors slid shut, sealing Whitney and Bruce inside. The hum of the motor faded, leaving me standing in absolute, suffocating silence.

I was entirely alone.

My knees finally buckled. The strength that had held me upright through Shan’s cold rejection, Damien’s terrifying touch, and Whitney’s desperate tears simply evaporated. I collapsed onto the cold marble floor right beside my worn canvas duffel bags, pulling my knees to my chest.

I buried my face in my hands and let the tears come—ugly, silent, heavy tears that burned my throat.

Every single piece of my life had been dismantled in less than twenty-four hours. My dignity, my freedom, my independence—all traded away to save a mother who had sold me to pay off a dead man's debt.

I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking violently as the reality settled into my bones. There was no escaping this. No running away. I was living under the roof of a cold, dangerous man who viewed me as nothing more than a contract to be enforced and a possession to be ruled.

A quiet click resonated through the grand hallway.

I stiffened, catching my breath in my throat. I didn't even have to look up to know who it was. The sudden, suffocating drop in room temperature gave him away before his heavy, polished dress shoes even touched the tile.

Damien stood at the edge of the foyer, immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, his dark eyes taking in the sight of me crumpled on the floor beside my shabby luggage. His face was a mask of unreadable glass, cold and absolute.

He didn't offer a hand. He didn't offer a single word of comfort.

He just stood over me, looking down at the wreckage of my life, before his low, commanding voice sliced through the quiet.

"Get up, Ariana," Damien said softly, the tone leaving no room for argument. "You belong here now."