Chapter 40

Esther’s POV

I almost didn’t believe it when the nurse told me.

“The bills… they’re cleared.”

I blinked, clutching the slip of paper in my hand. My fingers were trembling so violently I thought I might drop it. “What?”

The nurse gave a brisk nod, as if this was ordinary news, not the kind of revelation that could shift the entire axis of my world. “Your account with us shows no outstanding debt. The emergency treatment after the accident, Carl’s stabilization—all of it’s been handled. Paid in full.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My knees nearly buckled beneath me, but I forced myself upright. The weight I’d been carrying for months—years, even—was suddenly gone. The crushing pressure of endless debt, of watching every coin vanish faster than I could earn it, the sleepless nights spent calculating, worrying, and scheming just to keep the children fed and Carl alive—all of it lifted, evaporating like mist.

And yet… relief was immediately tinged with suspicion.

Because there was only one person powerful enough to erase debts like these in a single stroke.

Nicholas.

My heart lurched treacherously in my chest. A cold twist ran through me, like the edge of a blade brushing my spine.

I turned away quickly before the nurse could see my expression, pressing my hand flat against the wall to steady myself. Inside, everything was chaos. My thoughts collided and scattered like frightened birds.

Nicholas had done this?

Why?

Was it pity? Was it another form of control? Or… something I wasn’t ready to name?

I forced myself to keep walking, each step deliberate, careful. Carl was sleeping again, his tiny chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, his lips twitching in the faintest semblance of a smile as he dreamed. Sofia was with one of Kevin’s attendants for the day, allowing me rare space to think, to process.

But thinking didn’t make it easier.

He didn’t owe me this. After all I had endured, all the battles, the running, the lies and the distance—I had nothing left that belonged to him. And yet, here he had acted. Quietly, efficiently, without fanfare, without a single expectation that I would ever know.

Nicholas did nothing without reason. Everything he did carried intent, carried weight, carried chains that I couldn’t ignore. And yet, standing there in the sunlit hospital corridor, feeling the sterile floor beneath my feet, I almost, almost allowed myself to believe…

That somewhere, beneath all the cruelty and the anger, beneath the scorn and the relentless dominance, he still cared.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, pressing my back against the wall. A memory flickered, brief and infuriating: his hands brushing over mine as he bound my wounds after the crash, the way his voice softened despite the anger, telling me to rest, to stop moving. The bond between us twisted beneath my ribs, insistent, tugging me toward a truth I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Maybe he—

No.

I bit down on the thought before it could bloom into dangerous hope. Hope was a poison I had long sworn never to drink again.

Still, when I lifted my eyes and saw him striding toward me down the corridor—long, confident strides that betrayed nothing of the turmoil underneath—the thud of my heart was almost audible.

Nicholas’s POV

I found her just as I knew I would: outside Carl’s room, standing tall despite the weariness, the faintest blush of warmth on her cheeks, the tension in her posture radiating like a challenge. She didn’t look at me when I approached, but I could feel the coil of her anxiety, the muscles in her back and shoulders braced as if expecting an attack.

I held the papers in my hand. Proof. Evidence she thought she had buried under months of struggle and exhaustion.

“Running yourself ragged won’t save him,” I said flatly, voice steady, controlled. The words were sharp, meant to cut, to anchor her to reality. I couldn’t allow softness—if I did, I would crumble right alongside her.

Her head lifted, eyes blazing with the fire I had always loved and hated in equal measure. “Don’t start with me. Not today.”

I ignored the spark of defiance and thrust the papers toward her. “You borrowed money.”

Her hands froze mid-motion. Her lips parted, then closed again. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached for the papers, scanning the familiar lines of figures and dates. I watched her throat move as she swallowed, her entire body taut with emotion.

“You went to the bank,” I continued, voice low, firm. “You signed away more than you could ever pay back. All while dragging yourself to exhaustion. Every coin, every step, every sacrifice—it shouldn’t have been on your shoulders alone.”

Her fingers shook as they held the edge of the page. The sight of her trembling made my chest tighten. Something raw and unyielding coiled in my gut, a mixture of frustration, need, and a burning protectiveness I could not control.

“I can fix it,” I said before I could stop myself. The words slipped out, unpolished and raw. “I’ll clear it all. Every coin, every scrap of debt. You won’t have to think about it again.”

She looked up at me, eyes wide—not with gratitude, not with relief—but with something colder, sharper, harder.

“And what?” Her voice cracked like ice, trembling with fury and disbelief. “What do you want in return, Nicholas?”

I held her gaze, steady, searching, knowing the bond tugged at me so fiercely it threatened to drag my entire composure into ruin. “I want you to stop destroying yourself,” I said slowly, deliberately. “To stop scraping your knees bloody for men who’ll never care for you. You think Kevin can save you? He won’t. But I can.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I thought—foolishly, perhaps—that she might see the truth behind my words. That she might recognize the rope I was throwing, the lifeline I offered even as she fought against it.

But her face told me otherwise.

Her expression hardened. Her body stiffened as if my words were a slap across her face.

“You’re using me,” she whispered, soft at first, barely audible, then louder, trembling with raw, biting disappointment. “You think I don’t see it? You clear one debt, and suddenly I owe you everything. That’s not help, Nicholas. That’s chains.”

The words hit harder than any weapon I had wielded. I felt them scrape across my chest, leaving ragged cuts.

“That’s not—” I began, trying to explain, to bridge the chasm, but she cut me off.

“You haven’t changed. Not then, not now. You only know how to take advantage when I’m at my weakest. Do you think I’ll fall into that trap again?”

Her eyes glistened, but the steel in her voice was unmistakable. Her defiance, her pride, her insistence on standing tall—even limping, even exhausted—shook me to my core.

“No.”

I caught the crumpled papers she shoved back into my chest, the sound loud in the narrow corridor, echoing against the walls.

“I’d rather starve than owe you anything.”

And then she walked away, head high, back rigid, each step a statement, a declaration.

For a long moment, I did not move. Her scent lingered, sharp with salt and fury. I pressed the papers into my palms, knuckles whitening against the crumpled edges.

Norman growled low inside me. She’s lying. She needs us. She knows she does.

“She rejected us,” I whispered under my breath.

She still looks at us, Norman countered. She still feels the bond. She still aches.

I closed my eyes, swallowed down the fury, the aching pull that threatened to rend me in half. Every instinct screamed that I should follow her, that I should bend reality itself to keep her safe, to ease her burden.

She thought I was chaining her. She thought I sought to control her through debt and obligation. She didn’t understand.

I wasn’t trying to chain her.

I was trying to keep her alive.