Chapter 9
The silence in the dressing room was thick, suffocating.
Ariel looked at the two people who had made her life a living hell. The shock on their faces, the fear in their eyes-it should have been enough. But it wasn't. The anger, the humiliation, the three years of being told she was worthless... it demanded more.
She stepped forward, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She stopped right in front of Garrick, who was still slumped on the floor, looking up at her with a mixture of terror and disbelief.
"Garrick," Ariel said, her voice soft but cutting. "Your biggest flaw was always believing that just because you had the Tillman name, you were actually a Tillman."
Garrick flinched as if she had struck him.
"You forget," Ariel continued, looking down at him with cold pity. "Your father was a side branch. He died with nothing. This house, your job, your trust fund-every single thing you own exists solely because Holden allows it. It's his charity."
The color drained from Garrick's face. This was the secret everyone knew but no one spoke aloud. He was a kept man, playing at being a lord.
Ariel leaned down, her face inches from his. "You treated me like garbage, Garrick," she whispered, her voice lethal. "But you never realized that in Holden's eyes, you're the trash. You always have been."
The words hit Garrick harder than the broken wrist. His pride, his ego, the fragile masculinity he had built on the backs of others-shattered.
Lacey stepped forward, her face twisted in anger. "How dare you-"
Ariel shot her a look so venomous that Lacey stumbled backward, her mouth snapping shut.
Ariel straightened up, the pity in her eyes turning to ice.
Holloway's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then looked up at the room.
"Mr. Garrick," Holloway announced, his voice ringing with authority. "Mr. Holden Tillman has asked me to relay a message to you."
Garrick looked up, his eyes hollow.
"Mr. Tillman's instructions are as follows," Holloway recited, his voice cold and impersonal, devoid of any hint of emotion. "Ariel Melton's value is not something you are qualified to assess."
He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing.
"From this moment forward, she is to be considered an asset of the Tillman family. And she is not to be touched."
The message was brutal in its simplicity. It was not a romantic declaration, but a corporate edict. It elevated Ariel to the status of a protected investment, while reducing Garrick to an incompetent subordinate who had mishandled company property.
Garrick let out a broken sob, sliding further down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his head in his uninjured hand. "No," he mumbled, over and over. "It's not fair..."
Lacey was shaking. She looked at Garrick, the man she had sacrificed her reputation for, and saw a loser. A broke, broken loser. And she had tied her wagon to his star just as it was falling out of the sky.
Ariel felt no joy. Only a cold, clean emptiness. The wound was still there, but the poison had been cut out.
She picked up the box containing her mother's things, holding it securely against her chest. She turned and walked toward the door.
Holloway moved to open it for her, his posture impeccable.
But as he reached the threshold, he stopped. He turned back, his hand resting on the doorframe.
"There is one more matter," Holloway said, his voice flat. "Regarding the assets."
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