Chapter 134: Caged By Family

Beatrice sat on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, her chin resting lightly on them.

When Sebastian asked the question, she lifted her eyes to look at him, but she couldn’t hold his gaze for long.

His eyes were sincere. His intent was sincere. He could stand there and meet her gaze without hesitation. But she…

She was not sincere.

And in front of that open, honest heart of his, she suddenly felt very small. It showed. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“You gave your phone number to my mother?” she asked quietly.

Yesterday, her mother had called, laughing and giggling, telling her that someone from the Remington family had paid ten thousand dollars to bail her brother out of jail. After that, her mother had searched him online and discovered exactly who Sebastian Remington was.

Filthy rich. Powerful. Important.

Beatrice had never told Sebastian that her brother needed bail. He had only overheard one phone call… just one, where her mother screamed insults at her, calling her useless names.

That was all it took.

Sebastian had walked out quietly… and bailed her brother out. She had learned about it from her mother, who had been delighted.

For some reason, her mother believed Beatrice had sold herself to that man. And that made her celebrate.

“Satisfy him more, and we can be rich soon.”

Those were her exact words. She was her mother. Not a stepmother, not a pimp. Her mother. The same woman who had given birth to her while she was homeless.

Sebastian let out a slow breath.

“I can handle her,” he said gently. “If giving her money gives you peace, that’s the least I could do.”

Beatrice looked up at him.

God… she wanted to believe him. She needed someone to say that. Someone to promise they could shield her from that life.

But this…

This was not sustainable.

Whatever beautiful feeling had bloomed inside her chest when she looked at him… someday it would fade.

And what would remain then?

Gratitude and debt. A quiet understanding that he had saved her, and that everything between them had been bought and paid for.

Such was the curse of the poor. They couldn’t even afford love over gratitude.

She forced the words out before her courage failed. “You think you can buy me.”

The scream rising from her chest nearly broke through her throat. Deep down, she knew that wasn’t what he meant. Sebastian would give her the world if she asked. Money meant almost nothing to him.

But to her… It meant everything. And she wanted to keep at least one thing intact.

Her pride.

“So no,” she said, forcing the tears back into her eyes. “I don’t want to marry you.”

Her voice trembled.

“And I will never change my mind.”

Sebastian’s hand trembled slightly at his side.

For a moment, it looked as if he might argue… to ask her why she was making a problem out of something that didn’t matter.

But the words never came. He pressed his lips together, swallowed the pain rising in his chest… and turned away. Without another word, he walked out of the room.

The door closed softly behind him.

For a few seconds, Beatrice remained completely still. Then her body collapsed onto the bed. She buried her face deep into the pillow… And screamed.

A raw, broken sound tore out of her throat.

She screamed for the life she had been born into.

For the poverty that clung to her like chains.

For the selfish family that had never once protected her.

And for the pride that had just forced her to hurt the only man who had ever looked at her like she mattered.

She screamed.

—–

Roxane Hollister stood at the front door of her childhood home, dressed and ready for the Sentinel Ball.

Her hand hovered in the air before the wood. For a moment… she hesitated. She swallowed, drew in a slow breath, and finally pushed the door open.

It wasn’t a large house. Just a normal suburban four-bedroom home where she had grown up with her four brothers. The walls were the same. The furniture hadn’t changed much. The faint smell of detergent and stale beer lingered in the air like always.

And yet every time she stepped inside…

Her heart began pounding like she had walked into an active war zone.

She stepped into the living room. Her father was already there, in uniform.

The dark navy fabric sat stiffly on his broad frame, every line sharp, every crease perfect. Medals and badges gleamed under the ceiling light, a silent record of a lifetime of discipline and war.

A Navy SEAL. A decorated one. A hero to the world.

He looked up the moment she entered, and scoffed. “Are you dressed for a club?” he asked flatly.

He crushed the empty beer can in his hand and tossed it toward the floor. It clinked loudly and rolled across the hardwood, stopping near Roxane’s heels.

Roxane didn’t respond.

She simply stepped past it and walked further inside. Her mother appeared from the hallway a moment later.

She was wearing a striking red evening gown.

In many military circles, it was said that the wives of decorated war heroes were the only women who could confidently wear red to formal military galas without it being considered inappropriate, because the color symbolized honor shared with the soldier.

Her mother certainly wore it like a crown.

She looked Roxane up and down slowly. Then she frowned.

“Why can’t you dress a little less… matronly?” she asked sharply. “What are you trying to hide with that boat neck and closed back?”

Roxane said nothing.

She hadn’t answered questions like that in years.

Her four brothers began coming down the stairs then, already dressed in their own military uniforms. Two of their wives followed behind them—both also in uniform, crisp and polished.

The room filled with conversation immediately.

They admired one another’s medals, adjusted collars, complimented dresses… Laughed.

Not a single person spoke to Roxane.

She slipped quietly past them and walked into the kitchen, leaning her hip against the refrigerator like she was hiding behind enemy lines.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her phone.

There was only one number she dialed from memory.

Alexander Preston.

She stared at the screen as the call connected. She had promised herself she wouldn’t beg him again.

But…

Just once more.

The line didn’t even ring.

A recorded voice cut in almost immediately.

“The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later.”

His phone was switched off.

Roxane lowered the phone slowly.

For a long moment she stared at the dark screen.

The kitchen noise from the living room filtered in faintly—laughter, glasses clinking, the sound of a family preparing to leave together.

And Roxane stood there alone, leaning against the refrigerator, holding a phone that had no one on the other end.

Tears gathered slowly in her eyes.

From the living room, her father’s voice rang out—loud enough that the entire house could hear it.

“Tell your daughter to shut her mouth and smile when Admiral Jared Fletcher asks her for a dance!” he barked. “She’ll marry him. I won’t tolerate any more humiliation from her!”

A pause. Then his voice grew colder.

“Otherwise, tell her to pay back every cent of her college tuition. All of it. One installment. That’s my retirement.”

Roxane closed her eyes.

The words didn’t surprise her.

They never did anymore.

She inhaled slowly, forcing the trembling out of her lungs, and leaned her head back against the refrigerator door. The cool metal pressed against her skin through the fabric of her dress.

So… This was it. The final order.

Smile.

Dance.

Marry the Admiral.

Or repay a debt she could never afford.

Her fingers tightened around the phone still resting in her palm. For a foolish moment, she had hoped Alexander might answer.

Just once. Just long enough for her to hear his voice.

But the line was empty.

Just like how she felt.

Roxane swallowed the tightness in her throat and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes before they could fall.

She straightened slowly.

The Sentinel Ball awaited.

And apparently… so did her future.

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