Signed away by my step father

CHAPTER 7

The heavy oak door felt like the only barrier keeping the wolves out, but Valerian Vance didn't wait to be invited. He took a single, deliberate step forward, his polished leather shoes clicking sharply against our scuffed floorboards. The two security guards in matching suits followed like shadows, immediately flanking the doorway and sealing the exit.

The small, cluttered hallway suddenly felt entirely claustrophobic. Valerian’s presence sucked all the air out of the room. He was tall, moving with a predatory grace that made our low ceilings feel even lower.

"Mr. Vance," Richard stammered, scrambling forward from the living room. He tried to straighten his rumpled blazer, wiping his sweaty palms against his trousers. "I... I was just on the phone with the bank. There’s been a massive misunderstanding. If you could just give me forty-eight hours to liquidate some secondary assets—"

"There is no misunderstanding, Mr. Bristo," Valerian cut him off. His voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a cold, crystalline clarity that made Richard freeze mid-sentence. Valerian unclipped the leather portfolio in his hands, sliding a single sheet of paper out with fluid, elegant fingers. "Your debt was bought out by Vance Group’s debt-acquisition division. As of midnight, the interest has compounded. You owe four hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

My mother let out a small, strangled sob from the sofa, burying her face in her hands.

"Four hundred and fifty thousand?" Richard’s face went entirely slack, turning a sickly shade of ash. "That’s... that’s impossible. The bistro isn't even worth that much on the open market!"

"Exactly," Valerian murmured, his silver-gray eyes shifting away from Richard to lazily scan the peeling wallpaper of our living room. "The bistro, the equipment, the liquor license, and this deed combined only cover three hundred thousand. You are short by a significant margin. And under the terms of the private ledger you signed..." Valerian looked back at Richard, a terrifyingly faint, humorless smile touching his lips. "Defaulting results in immediate asset liquidation or criminal prosecution for fraudulent concealment."

"Prison?" Richard whispered, his chest heaving as a feral, suffocating panic took over his eyes. "No. No, no, no. I can't go to prison. Sarah, do something!" He glared at my mother, but she just kept crying, completely useless against the wall of corporate power standing in our home.

I stood perfectly still by the hallway closet, my knuckles turning white as I clutched the hem of my oversized t-shirt. My head was pounding, the hangover mixing with a deep, primal terror.

Suddenly, Valerian’s gaze flicked over to me.

The silver-gray depths of his eyes were completely unreadable, but they held my gaze for a long, heavy beat. He looked at my bare feet, my oversized shirt, and the dark hair falling messily over my shoulders. Then, his eyes dropped to my collarbone, where a faint yellowing bruise from Helen’s grip last week was visibly peeking out from the wide neckline of my collar. His expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened by a fraction of a millimeter.

Richard noticed the shift in Valerian's attention. He looked at Valerian, then looked at me, a dark, sickening calculation visibly clicking behind his desperate eyes.

"Wait," Richard said, his voice suddenly losing its panic and replacing it with something entirely monstrous. He took a step toward Valerian, his hands gesturing wildly toward me. "Mr. Vance... you're a businessman. You know value. The bistro and the house aren't enough, but... but what about a contract? A personal collateral?"

My breath hitched. A cold, slimy dread crawled up my throat. "Richard... what are you talking about?"

"Shut up, Sylvia!" Richard snapped viciously, before turning back to Valerian with a pathetic, eager grin. "She just turned eighteen yesterday. Legal age. Clean slate. No criminal record, no debts of her own. She’s... she’s smart. She handles the entire cash flow at the bistro. If you need administrative labor, or... or a personal assistant for your high-level associates... I can sign over her guardianship and labor rights via a formal family debt indemnity contract."

"Richard, no!" my mother screamed, finally looking up, her eyes wide with horror. "You can't do that to my daughter! She's a human being!"

"Do you want to go to the streets, Sarah?!" Richard roared back, turning on her like a cornered animal. "Do you want to watch me rot in a cell? Monique’s tuition is due next month! Sylvia lives under my roof, she eats my food, she owes me everything! If she can clear the remaining hundred and fifty thousand, she’ll do it!"

I felt like the ground was dissolving beneath my feet. My own stepfather was bartering me away like a piece of livestock to a multi-billion-dollar tycoon, and my mother was already shrinking back into the sofa cushions, her brief spark of protest dying out under Richard's glare. They were going to sell me.

I looked at Valerian, my eyes wide with a silent, desperate plea. Please, I thought, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Please don't do this.

Valerian stood entirely motionless, watching the pathetic display with an aura of absolute detachment. He didn't look disgusted; he looked like a god watching insects fight over crumbs. He slowly slid the paper back into his leather portfolio, the zipper closing with a sharp, final zzzzzt.

He stepped past Richard, walking straight toward me until he was standing less than a foot away. The shadow of his tall frame completely covered me, bringing with it that familiar, intoxicating scent of rain, cedarwood, and bitter orange from the club night.

He leaned down slightly, his silver eyes locking onto mine with an intense, suffocating focus.

"You," Valerian murmured, his low voice for my ears only. "The birthday girl who calls people handsome walls. Do you want to stay in this house?"

I swallowed hard, a single tear finally spilling over my lashes and tracking down my cheek. I shook my head, my voice a broken whisper. "No."

"Good," Valerian said, straightening up to his full height. He turned his head slightly to address his guards. "Bring the standard civil debt-clearing marriage contract from the car. We a

re taking her with us."