39. Her Audacity

Bastien

“Why don’t you just do to me what my father did to your wife? Since we’re all just different sides of the same fucked-up coin, Bastien. Why not call it even that way?”

The words linger in the air like a toxic residue. Her audacity stings, each syllable a sharp reminder of the twisted game we’re entangled in. I’m not her father, I’m not Ivan Popov, and the mere suggestion that I could stoop to the level of that monster sends a surge of anger through me.

I pace the room, my fists clenched, cursing myself for allowing her into my life. How did I let it get to this fucked up point? How did I fall for the daughter of the man who tore apart everything I held dear? It’s a cruel irony, a mockery of the justice I sought.

The truth is, deep down, I understand why she lied. She was terrified of what would happen, and she came clean herself. She’s an unwilling pawn in her father’s game, given to me knowing I would save her from that auction.

But she quickly switched on her father for me,