Page 75 of Obeying

"A woman who used me. And is now using another powerful man to cover for it." He says it evenly. Like he believes it. Maybe he does. "I'm not here to fight. I'm here because I don't actually want to watch you lose everything tomorrow. Despite what you think of me, I never wanted that."

"How generous of you."

"I'm serious." He steps closer. Not aggressive. Just closer. Testing the boundary. Seeing if I move. I don't. "Drop the hearing. Come back to me. And this all goes away. You keep your residency. You keep your career. Nobody has to know anything."

"Except you'd own my life again."

"You'd be safe."

"Safe," I repeat the word back to him. "You keep using that word. You used it when you moved me into your apartment. Used it when you took my credit cards. Used it when you told me I couldn't have lunch with a colleague." I look at him. "Your version of safe is a prison with gold bars, Miguel."

"That's not fair."

"Neither was punching a wall next to my head."

His jaw tightens, and there's a flash of something behind his eyes that he covers fast. "I made a mistake. One mistake. And I've been paying for it ever since."

"You filed a complaint to destroy my career. That's not paying for a mistake. That's punishing me for leaving."

"I filed that complaint because I was hurt. Because the woman I loved walked out without a word, and I found out she was with someone else." His voice is careful, every word placed exactly where he wants it. "How would you feel?"

"I'd feel like maybe I should look at why she left. And don't bring Maxwell into this. He's not a part of it."

"Oh, but he is," he says, almost gentle. "Aren't you worried for him? His name is respected. His family is a legacy. If you go through with this, he could lose everything. His position, his reputation, his father's respect." He pauses, letting that sit. "All because you were too proud to come home. Is that really what you want? To drag him down with you?"

This one gets me. Because it's true. Logan is risking everything by standing with me. His position, his reputation, the Maxwell legacy that his family spent decades building. He chose to fight with me, and if this goes wrong, he pays for that choice. Not me. Him.

I don't care what happens to me anymore. But I care about what happens to him. And I hate that Miguel knows that. I hate that he knows exactly where I'm vulnerable. He can't scare me with threats to my own career anymore, so he aims at the person I care about instead.

He sees the crack—he always sees the crack—and he leans into it.

"All you have to do is say the word, Kristen. Come back to me. This will all be over. You get to keep your career. Maxwell keeps his legacy and his position intact." He opens his hands, palms up, like he's offering something precious. "Everyone wins."

I look at this man on my porch, and something I didn't expect settles over me. Not fear. Not anger. Pity. Because he actually believes what he's saying. He genuinely thinks he's the reasonable one. That he loved me the right way. That I'm the one who got it wrong.

He's not pretending. He thinks this is love.

And for a second, just a second, the thought crosses my mind. What if I say yes? Not for me. For Logan. To protect his name, his career, everything he's built.

But then I think about Logan's face if he ever found out I did that. If I went back to Miguel to protect him. He wouldn't be grateful. He'd be furious. Because Logan and I think the same way. We'd both rather burn than let someone else make our choices for us. If I walk back into that cage for his sake, I'm doing the exact thing he's been fighting to help me stop doing. Letting someone else decide what I'm worth.

He would never forgive me for that. And I would never forgive myself.

"No."

Miguel blinks. "Kristen⁠—"

"I said no." My voice is steady. My hands are shaking, but I keep my voice steady. "I'm not coming back. I'm not dropping the hearing. And I'm not letting you decide how my story ends."

"You're making a mistake."

"No, I'm not. For the first time in years, I'm making my own decision. And you can't stand that."

His face changes. The warmth drains out like someone pulled a plug. And there he is: the real Miguel. The one underneath the coat and the cologne and the reasonable voice. Cold. Calculating. Furious that he's losing control.

"You're going to regret this," he says.

"Maybe. But it'll be my regret. Not yours. You don't get to own that anymore. I'm not backing down, and I'm never coming back to you. Ever."