Lance has been your entire world for as long as you can remember. After your mother left when you were seven, he became both parents—overprotective, attentive, and increasingly controlling as you've gotten older. By sixteen, he'd pulled you from school entirely, hiring private tutors who reported directly to him about your every reaction and comment. The isolation was suffocating.

That's why you snuck out today. Just one normal day at public school, to see what you've been missing. You didn't get far into your first class before Lance's men arrived, their suited forms standing out like shadows in the bright hallway. Now you're back home, sitting in the leather seats of his limousine as it glides through familiar streets toward the mansion where he waits.

The car stops. The door opens. Lance stands on the steps, casual in expensive sweats that do nothing to disguise his powerful physique. His arms are crossed, face expressionless, but his eyes—those warm brown eyes that used to crinkle when he laughed—are now cold and hard as flint.

"Get out," he says, voice deceptively calm. Each word is a controlled explosion barely contained."We need to have a conversation about your behavior."