Claiming His Heir

Sadie’s POV The university of Ashford’s botanical greenhouse felt like a little haven, all that humidity and greenery in a glass bubble perched above the dreary, drizzling campus. It was the only spot where the air didn’t feel so heavy with unspoken rules and my dad’s watchful gaze. I fiddled with the dial on the broken system, my fingers moving quickly and gently as I checked the soil pH of a row of Dracontinum seedlings. At twenty-one, I had become pretty good at pretending to fit in. I was the botany department’s golden girl – high GPA, dependable, and always wearing a smile. “Sadie, you’re still here?” I turned, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. It was Mark, a classmate, dragging his backpack off the floor and throwing it over one shoulder. He looked worn out after a long day but still managed a smile. “Just wrapping up. These little guys can’t handle temperature drops. I couldn’t just leave them before the storm rolled in.” I gave the tropical plant’s leaf a gentle pat. Mark chuckled, leaning against the potting bench, a bit too relaxed. “You’re a saint. A few of us are heading to grab coffee at the union. You should join us. You know, take a break from… photosynthesis.” I kept smiling, even though my phone buzzed in my back pocket for the third time in ten minutes. I didn’t need to check to know who it was. “I’d love to, but I really need to get home. My dad… he needs help with dinner.” The lie rolled off my tongue easily. Easier than explaining my strict curfew, tighter than a high school freshman’s. Easier than saying my dad, who could track a deer through dense woods for miles, would definitely notice if I was even five minutes late. “Maybe next time,” Mark replied, looking a bit let down but not too discouraged. I was friendly enough, known for being approachable, but I kept my life outside the lab pretty private. “See you Monday.” “See you, Mark!” The moment the door hissed shut, my smile fell. I pulled out my phone. 4 Missed Calls – Dad. Text: Come home. Now. The message was brief, no emojis or cordialities. It was an order not a question. A familiar panic gripped my chest. Thomas Vance was a forest ranger, a wild man, but inside our tiny house he was the iron-fisted God. Since I was a baby, it had been just the two of us. No mother, no brothers and sisters, no visiting second cousins. Just me and him and his smothering need to know where I was at every moment of the day. I grabbed my bag, made sure to lock the greenhouse door behind me, and walked out into the brisk autumn night. On the walk home I passed by the edge of university grounds where the manicured lawns turned into thick tree line of state forest. The rain in the air mingled with the smell of damp ground. Usually this walk soothed me — the smell of pine and rot was the smell of my childhood — but tonight, the trees loomed like menacing specters. I stepped up my pace, my boots digging into the gravel on the dirt path. As I turned onto the winding road that led me to my street, a sleek black sedan glided past me, slowing for a moment before speeding up again. It was a rich car, out of place in this quiet rural section of town. I followed the taillights, a shiver running up my spine for some reason. I dismissed it. My father’s paranoia was finally catching up with me. The lights were on in the house when I got home. As I stepped inside through the front door, the smell of stew wafted out, rich and heavy, but the mood was icy. My father stood in the hallway. He was a tall man with a broad shoulder and a thick beard with grey at his temples. He didn’t look like a father waiting for his daughter; he looked like a sentinel waiting guard. “You are late.” He said it in a low voice. “Professor Halloway kept me back to discuss my thesis proposal.” I said it as I put my coat up on the coat rack. I didn’t say anything about the additional twenty minutes I took hiding in the greenhouse just to avoid coming home and the silence. “Your phone was off.” “It’s been on silent. I’ve been working.” Thomas Vance looked at me for a long time with his dark eyes, and it was an interrogation technique, one that I had grown immune to over the years. He didn’t want to get at the truth; he wanted to find weaknesses. “There was a car accident on the highway.” He said it abruptly, turning back toward the kitchen. “Traffic was diverted through town. Strangers are everywhere tonight.” “Dad, it’s just traffic. It happens.” “Nothing is just anything, Sadie.” He stopped in the doorway, his back to me. “Lock the deadbolt. And the chain.” I sighed, dropping my back by the door. “I know the drill.” I locked the door, sliding the heavy chain into place. It was a ritual. Lock the door. Check the windows. Don’t go after dark. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t wander off the path. I walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, watching him stir the stew. I often wondered what it would be like to have a normal father – one who asked about my day, who encouraged me to date, who complained about the price of gaz. My dad did none of those things. He only issued warnings. “I saw a nice car on the road.” I said, trying to make conversation. “Looked like someone important. Maybe a new professor?” My father’s hand paused mid-stir. He turned slowly. “What kind of car?” “Black. Fancy. I don’t know models. Why?” MY dad turned off the stove with a sharp click. He moved to the window, peering through the gap in the blinds like a soldier scanning for snipers. “Did it stop?” “No. It just drove past.” He let out a breath, but his shoulders remained tense. “You need to focus on your studies, Sadie. Keep your head down. Don’t draw attention.” “I never draw attention, Dad. I’m practically invisible.” “Good.” He grunted. “Stay that way.” He sat down opposite me, serving the stew. He didn’t eat. He sat there watching me take the first bite. It was unnerving, being observed like a specimen under a microscope. “Straight home after classes tomorrow.” He ordered. “There are… things in the woods this time of year. Wolves are migrating.” “Wolves?” I raised an eyebrow. “I thought the rangers said the wolf population was dwindling.” “Misinformation.” He snapped, a little too quickly. “They are out there. And they are hungry. You don’t want to be what they find.” I looked down at my stew. I didn’t argue. I had learned long ago that arguing with Thomas Vance was like arguing with a brick wall – cold, hard, and unmoving. But as I swallowed the warm broth, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of defiance in my chest. I was twenty-one years old. I was the top of my class. I was resilient, just like the plants I studied, capable of growing in even the poorest soil. I wouldn’t let his fear stunt my growth forever. Tomorrow, I promised myself. Tomorrow I would stay late at the library, and I will say yes to Mark for the coffee. I went to my room, and looked out the window towards the forest. “I’ll be careful, Dad.” I said softly, staring at my reflection in the window. ------------------------------------------