Chapter 16: Phoebe Fights Back

Phoebe wasn't the type to sit back and wait for someone else to handle her problems.

Damon had said he'd take care of it. And a part of her believed him.

But her father wasn't the kind of man to back down.

She knew him too well.

So, despite Damon's assurance, she did what she could—making calls, pulling strings, trying to dismantle whatever arrangement her father had set in motion.

And just as she expected—he didn't back down.

If anything, he pushed harder.

---

(The Breaking Point)

Phoebe stood in her father's office, back straight, hands clenched at her sides.

"I said no."

Her father barely looked up from his desk. "And I said it's not up for debate."

Her nails dug into her palms. "You can't force me into this."

He finally lifted his gaze, his expression unreadable. "Can't I?"

The audacity of it made her stomach churn.

"This isn't the goddamn nineteenth century," she snapped. "You don't get to sell me off like a business asset."

Her father leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "That's where you're wrong, Phoebe. You are an asset. To this family. To our name. And you will do what is necessary."

Phoebe's chest heaved. "Necessary for who? Because it sure as hell isn't for me."

Her father sighed, as if she was the one being unreasonable. "You're emotional."

She let out a bitter laugh. "You bet I'm emotional. Because I'm sick of this—of you trying to control my life like I have no say in it."

His expression hardened. "You've had plenty of say, Phoebe. And look where it's gotten you."

She froze.

He leaned forward slightly. "You think I don't know what's been happening? The lunches. The flowers. Him."

Her stomach twisted.

"I let you play your little game before," he continued smoothly. "But I won't let it happen again. He was a mistake then, and he's a mistake now."

Phoebe's fingers twitched. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."

Her father smirked. "Oh, but I do understand." He stood, walking around his desk until he was right in front of her. "Damon Blackwood was convenient. A means to an end. And when the arrangement no longer suited him, what did he do?"

Phoebe didn't answer.

Because she knew what he was trying to do.

And damn it, it was working.

Her father lowered his voice. "He walked away. Chose his career over you. And now, after all this time, you think he's going to choose differently?"

Phoebe swallowed, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

Because yes—Damon had walked away.

And yes—it had broken something in her.

But what her father didn't understand, what he never understood, was that she wasn't that girl anymore.

The one who let other people decide her worth.

"I don't need him to choose me," she said, voice steady. "Because I already made my choice."

Her father's smirk faltered.

"I choose me," she said, stepping back. "And I'm done playing your games."

She turned on her heel, walking toward the door, her pulse thundering in her ears.

But before she could step out, her father's voice stopped her cold.

"You walk out that door, Phoebe," he said, voice low, "and you're done."

She hesitated.

"You think I'm bluffing?" he continued. "If you refuse this deal, you're out. No safety net. No name. No inheritance."

Phoebe gripped the doorknob, taking a shaky breath.

Then, without turning around, she opened the door and walked out.

---

(The Aftermath)

She didn't realize she was shaking until she reached the elevator.

Her hands trembled, her breath came in uneven gasps, but she did it.

She finally stood up to him.

And yet—

The weight of it pressed against her chest, suffocating.

She stepped outside the building, barely registering the cool air against her flushed skin.

Then she saw him.

Damon.

Leaning against his car, watching her with careful eyes.

He must've known where she was. Must've figured out why she'd come here.

And the second his gaze met hers, something in her cracked.

She didn't even realize she was moving until she reached him.

"Hey," he murmured, concern flickering in his expression.

Phoebe opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come.

Instead—her breath hitched.

And before she could stop it—before she could shove it all back down—her vision blurred with tears.

Damon didn't hesitate.

He reached for her, pulled her into his arms, and just like that—

She let go.