Taming Her Beasts

Chapter 7

I couldn’t take my eyes off my husband. Seeing him like that—restrained, sitting on the floor, completely at the mercy of Master Smith—sent panic swirling inside my chest. His bowed head, his stillness, the way he avoided my gaze… none of it made sense.

Questions crashed over one another in my mind until Master Smith’s voice sliced through them like a knife.

“Miss Hemingsworth, I brought you here because your husband went back on a deal he made with me five years ago.”

“What deal?” I demanded, my voice sharp and shaking. I tried to stand taller, to keep the fear from showing.

“You will mind your tone with me,” he said, his voice low, controlled, and heavy with authority. “After all, I am your father.”

The world went silent.

My breath froze.

“What… how? My father died years ago! My mother raised me alone—she died five years ago!”

“Yes, Elizabeth. I am very much alive,” he said calmly. “When you were born, your mother left you and cut all ties with me. After her death, I tracked you down. I even paid for her funeral.”

My stomach dropped.

“That… that was you?” I whispered, my mind spinning. Every memory of my childhood, every story my mother told me, cracked apart.

“Yes,” he said simply. “And your husband here was in my service for many years, helping me keep what is mine. We had an arrangement—he was to prepare you, train you in the responsibilities you would inherit, and bring you back to me. In exchange, I would release him from his obligations.”

My eyes snapped to my husband.

“You married her instead,” Master Smith continued. “In Hawaii. Far enough that you thought I wouldn’t find you.”

My husband’s voice trembled. “Please… forgive me, Elizabeth.”

I stared at him, heart aching and furious all at once.

“Why?” I hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Before he could answer, Master Smith spoke again.

“Elizabeth, you are here to take your place in the family business. Permanently. Since my former subordinate failed to carry out my instructions, I will be overseeing your preparation myself.”

The words hit me like ice water.

“I will never work for you,” I snapped, fury igniting inside me. “I will never be controlled by you—not now, not ever!”

Master Smith’s expression hardened.

“Watch your tone.”

“Never,” I growled.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“I see we will need to handle your defiance… carefully.”

He turned his head. “Maxwell.”

The door opened. A slim young man entered—quiet, composed, and unsettlingly calm.

“Take Miss Hemingsworth back to her room,” Master Smith ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

His grip closed around my arm—firm but not painful. I struggled anyway, anger and fear crackling through me, but he guided me out of the room with unyielding precision.

Marcus Hemingsworth’s Point of View

I sat on the floor of my old master’s office, shame burning hotter than any fear. Seeing Elizabeth dragged away—terrified, furious, betrayed—cut deeper than anything Master Smith could do to me.

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” I whispered as the door closed behind her. “Please… forgive me.”

Silence fell as Master Smith turned to me, his presence heavy and suffocating.

“You, Marcus, have disobeyed me,” he said. His voice was calm, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable. “You abandoned your agreement. You hid her. You lied.”

“I—”

“Stand up.”

I obeyed immediately, my legs shaking.

“Come here.”

I stepped to the center of the room, every muscle tight with dread.

“You remember how loyalty works,” he said quietly. “How consequences work.”

A cold sweat ran down my spine.

“This time,” he continued, “your punishment will not be physical. I no longer need to break your will—I only need to break your choices.”

He stepped closer.

“From this moment forward, you will resume your role in my organization. You will follow every instruction I give. And you will have no communication with my daughter until I decide otherwise.”

My chest constricted.

“Please—”

“One more word, Marcus,” he warned softly, “and I will ensure she pays for your disobedience instead of you.”

Ice flooded my veins.

My voice died in my throat.

“Do you understand?”

“…Yes, sir.”

He nodded once, satisfied.

My heart ached—splintered by guilt, fear, and the sickening truth that I had brought Elizabeth into a nightmare I never meant for her to face.

And now, I had no way to warn her.

No way to protect her.

No way to reach her at all.