I am speechless. The room is spinning not from anger, but from pure, disorienting shock. My father thinks Vega Vastano is my boyfriend.
I look at Vega. His perfect, indifferent face has an added layer of smugness, a subtle tightening around the eyes that clearly says: You owe me.
I grind my teeth together. I have to play along.
"Yes," I manage, the word tasting like rust. "It was in private. I was afraid that he didn't like me that much, so I couldn't tell you."
Leif smiles broadly, radiating warmth. "You just think too low of yourself, Tyr! Vega just asked me for your hand in marriage."
"He did, didn't he?" I confirm, my voice a painful imitation of happiness.
Leif beams and physically pushes me to sit beside Vega on the bench I was just moments ago avoiding. I am literally forcing myself to sit down, keeping a stiff inch of space between us. Leif sits down opposite, his face alight with curiosity.
"So, how did you two meet?" he asks, transforming instantly from a fierce man with a broom into a gossipy auntie.
Vega turns to me, his expression perfectly calm. "I will let her tell it."
"Me? Oh, I..." My mind scrambles, trying to conjure a romantic scenario out of thin air. But then, an evil thought strikes.
I had noticed earlier how much this man didn't like being touched the way he stiffened when I grabbed his arm, the way he moved away from my mother. And that is exactly what I am going to do.
As Leif leans in, waiting, I move. I drape my arm around Vega's shoulder, closing the space between us completely. My forearm rests against the hard, expensive fabric of his suit jacket.
Vega visibly stiffens. It's only a fraction of a second, a tension that ripples through his body before he locks it down, but I feel it, and I see it. Across the room, Seth sucks in a cold breath of air. I smile... a real, vicious, triumphant smile.
I force my lips into a sickeningly sweet smile, keeping my arm draped across Vega's rigid shoulder. I can feel the tension coiled in his muscles, and it's exhilarating.
"We met when I was in Paris," I announce, turning the lie into a narrative. The story I tell is not a lie just that it the story of how I met Chandler.
Leif claps his hands together once, genuinely thrilled. "Really? Tell me more! Was it romantic?"
I'm dumbfounded by his enthusiasm. I know my father loves gossip, but why does he look so eager now, like he's watching his favorite soap opera?
Vega tries to subtly shift his shoulder away from my arm, but before he can create any space, I slip my hand to the back of his neck, my fingers grazing his collar.
"Well," I purr, leaning in so the air between us crackles, "he saw me in the VIP section at the F1 race, and he followed me like a lovesick puppy, even when I rejected him."
A sharp, guttural sound comes from across the room. Seth chokes and begins to cough violently, trying to cover it with a hand. I suppress a grin. Perfect.
Vega doesn't even look at his secretary. Instead, he grabs my hand that's resting on his shoulder, takes it off his neck, and swiftly entwines our fingers underneath the table. Then, he squeezes hard. Bone-crushingly, painfully hard.
I instantly crease my brows, a wave of sharp pain shooting up my arm. I bite the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to cry out. I will not give him the satisfaction.
Leif, seeing my sudden distress, asks, "Are you okay?"
I manage a tight, controlled breath. "It's just cramps, Dad," I lie, pushing the pain away. "I need to use the bathroom."
Leif immediately turns concerned, thinking it's a female emergency. "Go, go! I'll prepare some chamomile for you."
I yank my hand back hard, and Vega finally lets go. My fingers throb, but they're free. "Thanks, Dad." I get up and walk away, the brief escape a necessary respite from Vega's suffocating cruelty.
I reach the bathroom and lock the door, leaning my head against the cool wood. My hand is throbbing, and I immediately turn on the faucet, running cold water over my right hand. The skin isn't broken but he certainly made his point. I take a moment to breathe before opening the door and walking back to the training area.
"Why so soon?" I hear Leif ask.
Vega doesn't miss a beat. "I would wait longer if I could, but my grandmother is ill," he says, his voice laced with practiced sorrow. "And her one wish is to see me married before she dies, so she can be reassured that I won't be alone when she is gone."
Leif's face instantly softens. "I am so sorry to hear that."
There is a moment of silence. Then Leif speaks again, his voice hesitant. "But this gift you gave her is too much. We truly can't accept it and take advantage of you like that." He's talking about the debt payment, of course. My honest father trying to reject a seven-figure bailout.
Vega's expression immediately shifts to one of deep, wounded sincerity. He looks at my father with wide, soulful eyes. "Uncle, if you don't accept it, it will mean you can't accept me," he says, pouring on the thick, manipulative charm.
"I love your daughter so much, and if you are in distress, she is in distress, which will break my heart. Please, accept it as my token of love to Tyr."
Leif seems to be at a loss. He glances between Vega and the door, clearly uncomfortable with the drama but seeing the young man look so genuinely dejected, he can't refuse anymore.
"Okay," Leif says, conceding. "If she gives you trouble in the future, you come to me. I will deal with her."
Vega smiles, the victory subtle but absolute. "Thank you, Uncle."
I stand there, clenching my fists, utterly stunned at how much bullshitting Vega can do, the flawless performance, the instant tears, the familial warmth. And how gullible my honest, trusting father is to believe all that nonsense.
A cold wave of understanding washes over me. I suddenly understand perfectly how that woman managed to fool my father for so long. He's too good to see the monsters in the dark.