Chapter 6

Ayra’s heart sank. “You... what?”

“Oh, come on,” Lisbeth rolled her eyes. “It’s not that shocking. And I simply must tell you, Lucian was a dream to work with. A man like that? He saw the opportunity right away. All I had to do was paint you as someone who could be… easily shaped.”

"Lisbeth, I..." Ayra struggled to find words. "Do you truly hate me so much?"

“Of course,” Lisbeth said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“And by the way, someone had to make the hard decisions around here, and we all know you weren’t going to. Honestly, you should be thanking me. If it weren’t for my little nudges, you’d still be floundering around with absolutely no direction in life.”

“Direction?” Ayra spat. “You mean being sold off like some business asset? That’s your idea of a direction?”

Lisbeth waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. No one sold you off. Don't make it sound so horrible.

It’s securing the family’s future. And let’s face it—you were always the weak link. Father could never rely on you for anything important, could he?”

Ayra’s fists clenched at her sides. “So you decided to use me to fix the messes you and Father created. How convenient.”

Lisbeth leaned in, her smile cruel. “Exactly. And you know what’s funny? You’re so predictable, Ayra. Always resisting, always fighting when you should be smart enough to know it’s pointless. It’s almost... entertaining. Almost. Mostly you're just a frustrating little bugger.”

Ayra glared at her, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “You’re disgusting.”

“Perhaps,” Lisbeth replied with a shrug. “But at least I’m useful. What can you say for yourself? I do have a list of choice adjectives to describe you.”

For a moment, the room was thick with tension. 

Ayra’s mind raced with a thousand things she wanted to say, but beyond the dozens that passed through her mind, one in particular jumped to the forefront.

"If mum were alive, what do you think she would say?"

Lisbeth rolled her eyes. "She would applaud me, obviously."

A second later Lisbeth’s smirk faltered, replaced by something more tame. 

“Lucian,” she said slowly, as if testing the weight of his name. “He’s… well, let’s just say he’s not the type of man you cross.”

“What do you mean?” Ayra demanded, her voice rising with a mixture of anger and apprehension. 

She had a feeling Lisbeth wasn't just talking about Lucian and his role as the Director. 

Lisbeth’s eyes gleamed with a complex mix of emotions. 

“You’ll find out soon enough. Just… don’t be stupid, Ayra. Whatever foolish ideas you have about escape or defiance? Drop them. If you think Father’s bad, you have no idea what Lucian is capable of. 

On the other hand, perhaps the only way to restrain him is through blackmail. Though you'd struggle to find any blackmail material unless you love him.”

“You’re lying,” Ayra shot back, though the unease in her chest told her otherwise. But Ayra didn't want to submit. 

Running away was her only chance at a relatively normal life. A life free from constant fear and tiptoeing around the people in her surroundings. 

Lisbeth chuckled, a low, humorless sound. “Believe what you want. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. For once in your life, use your brain and play along. It’s the only way you’ll survive this. Like, seriously. I'm going out on a limb here and giving you actually useful advice for the first time ever.”

"Why are you and dad even doing this?!" Ayra yelled. "I refuse to believe it's just because of some 'debt' or whatnot!"

Lisbeth blinked, taken back, and the heat in her eyes cooled. She glanced down with a more somber expression, a wry smile gracing her lips and a chuckle leaving her throat. 

"You're right, actually. It's not simply because of some debt." She gazed out the window, at the lake that shimmered under the morning sun.

"The reason is even more flimsy than that, if you would believe. But."

She turned back to Ayra, her eyes more intense than Ayra had ever seen them. 

"Some things are simply worth it. Even though logic dictates otherwise." Lisbeth's eyes changed, returning to the mocking expression Ayra was more familiar with. 

"The cost and profit are simply too skewed in our favour to give it up."

Ayra shook her head, disbelief mingling with anger. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Lisbeth said again, her smirk returning. “But at least I know how to survive. You should try it sometime. It is refreshing.”

A knock came at the door and they both turned to it to find their aunt standing in the doorway looking at them. 

"Sorry if I was interrupting something," the woman said. 

Lisbeth snorted and left, shoving the woman out of the way as she did so. 

"Ten minutes," she said. "You have just ten minutes with her. No more, no less."

"What?"

"Actually, make that five. I would suggest you time yourself if you don't want to be dragged out."

"Lisbeth," their aunt began but Lisbeth simply gave her a tight, mocking smile and left. 

Ayra felt a bit surprised. When had things gotten bad between Lisbeth and their aunt? The both of them cherished their aunt as far as she was aware. 

Their aunt disregarded her and stepped fully into the room, her features softening as she closed the door behind her. 

Unlike Lisbeth’s sharp, cutting presence, her aunt exuded an air of quiet elegance. She was a striking woman, her age gracefully etched into the fine lines around her eyes. 

Streaks of silver were threaded through her dark hair, the jewels providing a sharp contrast to her ebony tresses. 

Her tall, slender frame was draped in a well-tailored navy suit, the understated sophistication a stark contrast to the cold luxury of the mansion around them.

Her name was Eleanor, and she was the only sister of her father. Half-sister to be specific, but Ayra loved her.

Ayra's heart squeezed with tension, wondering what she was here to say. She would be infinitely disappointed if she was here to convince her to simply accept the marriage. 

Because now it was no longer just about her future happiness - Ayra now felt a burning need to know who was on her side. 

If those she'd lived with for years actually knew her - if they actually cared. Because to be honest, at this point, she doubted they did. 

If even her aunt was with them, she had literally no idea what she had lived her whole life for.