Chapter 63

Chapter 63
Elise's POV

With that, he turned and walked out.

No flirtation. No opportunistic touching. Nothing at all.

It caught me off guard. Based on what I knew about Victor—or rather, based on the experience of these past two days—he wasn't the type to pass up any opportunity. Last night in the bathroom was proof of that.

But he also had boundaries.

He pushed when it was time to push. He stopped when it was time to stop.

This level of control made me feel both reassured and unsettled.

I climbed out of bed, my lower body aching with a weakness that made my legs tremble.

Barefoot on the carpet, I walked to the window and looked down. The street was narrow and rundown, with mostly old buildings on both sides, peeling walls, and windows fitted with rusted iron bars. A few pedestrians walked by, hurrying along with expressionless faces.

This was another world.

Completely different from the one I'd lived in for nineteen years.

But somehow, this place felt more like "home." At least more than the Miller house ever had.

A voice rose from the depths of my heart—very quiet, very distant, like something traveling up from underwater:

This is all temporary.

You'll have to go back eventually. Face Benjamin and Margaret. Face the legal battle over the inheritance. Face the truth about your parents' murder. Face everything you're running from.

Victor can give you a safe house. But he can't solve these problems for you.

I closed my eyes and pushed the voice down.

At least I didn't have to think about it today. At least not right now.

---

Lunch was simpler than I'd expected. Italian risotto with a glass of sparkling water. Victor ate slowly, chewing each bite carefully. He didn't talk while eating, didn't look at his phone, as if completing a task that required focused attention.

I didn't speak either.

The two of us sat at opposite ends of the long dining table, separated by a vast stretch of empty space. Sunlight slanted in from the side window, casting a bright patch of light on the floor.

Strangely, the silence wasn't awkward.

When I used to be with Liam, silence always meant something—was he angry? Had I done something wrong? Was he thinking about someone else?

But sitting with Victor, silence was just silence. It didn't need to be filled, didn't need explanation, didn't require racking my brain for conversation topics.

I put the last bite of risotto in my mouth and set down my fork.

Just then, the phone on the table rang.

Unknown number. The area code showed it was local.

I hesitated for a moment, then answered anyway.

"Elise Vance."

Silence on the other end for a second. Then a familiar voice exploded—hoarse, frantic, like someone being strangled—the squawk of an angry duck.

Benjamin.

"You bitch!"

I didn't react. Just calmly moved the phone slightly away from my ear.

"You think I don't know?! Huh?! Those people—how did you find them! That bastard with the scar on his neck—you led him to my door, didn't you?!"

I picked up my sparkling water and took a sip.

"I'm talking to you! Did you fucking hear me?!"

"I heard you." I set down the glass, my tone flat. "Are you done?"

The other end probably hadn't expected me to be this calm. Benjamin choked for a moment, then erupted even more furiously: "You ungrateful piece of shit! We raised you all these years! Gave you food and shelter! This is how you repay us? Sending the mob to take our house?!"

Raised me?

Gave me food and shelter?

Used my parents' inheritance to give me food and shelter, then told me it was charity?

"Benjamin," I finally spoke, my voice not loud but each word clear, "First, I didn't send those people. Second, even if I had, what could you do about it? Third—"

I paused.

"You're calling because you want me to help, aren't you?"

Another silence. This one longer.

Then Benjamin's voice dropped—no longer that bluffing roar from before, but a lowered pride, a teeth-gritting compromise: "You know they're going to take the house. Two months deadline. If we can't pay back—"

"So what?"

"You can help us pay it back." He spat out the words like coughing up a bone stuck in his throat. "Don't you want to get the inheritance back? That money was yours anyway. If you'd help make those people back off—"

I found it funny.

Really funny.

Most of that inheritance had already been transferred away by him and Margaret. At least eighty percent of the money in the trust account had been misappropriated. The numbers recorded in the gambling debt ledger were shocking. And there was that $1.42 million hidden in a Zurich bank account—my parents' hard-earned money that he'd secretly transferred offshore.

Now he was coming to me for help?

"Benjamin," I interrupted him, "do you know how much of that inheritance is left?"

He said nothing.

"Less than twenty percent of the original. The other eighty percent was transferred to yours and Margaret's names. And part of it went to fill the bottomless pit of your gambling debts."

My voice remained steady, but my fingers slowly tightened around the phone.

"You squandered my parents' money. Lived in the house my parents bought. Used everything my parents left behind for nineteen years. Now the house is being taken, and you come to me for a solution?"

"Then what the hell do you want?!" Benjamin finally snapped, his voice rising again. "Fine, don't help! But don't expect that inheritance either! We already transferred most of it before the court froze it! The rest we'll spend down to nothing! Not a penny left for you!"

Threatening me?

Threatening me with what should have been mine all along?

"Benjamin, listen carefully."

I leaned forward slightly, staring at a point in empty space, speaking each word deliberately:

"I want that inheritance back, but not for the money."

"That money is important to me, but not because it's money—because it's what my parents left behind. One thing I'm very clear about—I will never allow the Miller family to live comfortably on what my parents left."

The breathing on the other end became heavy.

"You don't have a house anymore. I suggest you don't touch the portion of the inheritance you've hidden either." I continued, my tone cold as ice. "Because if even a penny moves from that account, I can immediately request the court to freeze it. Every single cent. Leave you without even a last way out."

I hung up the phone. My good mood was completely ruined.

I looked up at Victor. "I need to go back to school today. I've already missed too many classes. At least I need to turn in assignments."

Victor said nothing, just glanced at me with an indifferent look.

"I'll have the driver take you."