Chapter 8 - What Astrid KnewAstrid did not forgive him.
Not that night.
Perhaps not for a long time.
After Gideon left under escort, she sat alone in the drawing room with a glass of water she never touched. Lachlan stood near the fireplace. Thea remained by the door, uncertain whether she belonged in a conversation that had begun decades before she entered the family.
Astrid looked older.
Not weak.
Never weak.
But wounded.
“You looked at me every day.”
Lachlan said nothing.
“You watched me arrange furniture because I thought you might fall.”
“I know.”
“You let me describe sunsets.”
His face changed.
“Astrid—”
“I described your mother’s roses to you.”
Thea looked away.
Lachlan’s mother had died when he was twenty-one.
Astrid continued.
“I told you what color they were every spring.”
“I remember.”
“Of course you remember. You could see them.”
“Not the first year.”
She stopped.
Lachlan stepped closer.
“When the roses first bloomed after the accident, I still couldn’t see color properly. Everything was washed out. Gray. Light. Shape.”
His voice lowered.
“The way you described them mattered.”
Astrid’s eyes filled.
She hated the tears immediately.
Thea could tell.
“So when did you fully recover?”
“Twenty-two months ago.”
“And you told Emil.”
“Yes.”
“Not me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas was dead. Someone inside the family tried to kill me. And I knew you would never lie convincingly if someone asked you whether I could see.”
Astrid stood.
“That was my decision.”
“Yes.”
“You took it from me.”
“Yes.”
No excuses.
Thea saw the impact.
Astrid crossed the room and looked out the windows.
“You are exactly like your father.”
“That is rarely a compliment from you.”
“It isn’t tonight.”
Silence.
Then Astrid looked at Thea.
“And you knew.”
Thea straightened.
“Since the wedding night.”
“Of course.”
Astrid laughed once without humor.
“My brilliant arrangement.”
Thea swallowed.
“I didn’t know before the vows.”
“I believe you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Astrid turned.
“Because if you had known, you would have thrown a flower arrangement at him in the cathedral.”
Despite everything, Thea nearly smiled.
Lachlan did not.
Astrid returned to the sofa.
“Show me what Gideon did.”
For the next hour, they explained.
Thomas’s evidence.
The medical manipulation.
The foundation files.
Thea’s surveillance.
Astrid became perfectly still when she saw the list of potential companions.
“This is the file I received.”
“Yes,” Lachlan said.
“I thought Wexler prepared it.”
“They didn’t.”
Astrid looked at Thea.
“You were placed in front of me deliberately.”
Thea nodded.
“And your mother’s claim was delayed.”
“Yes.”
Astrid closed her eyes.
For the first time, guilt replaced anger.
“I did this.”
“No,” Thea said.
Astrid looked up.
“You approached a nineteen-year-old girl whose mother was dying and offered money in exchange for marriage.”
“You offered treatment.”
“It is the same thing when the alternative is death.”
Thea did not answer.
Because that was true.
Astrid’s voice softened.
“I told myself you had a choice.”
“I did.”
“Did you?”
The question stayed in the room.
Thea looked at Lachlan.
He was watching her.
Not as CEO.
Not as strategist.
As the man who had asked himself the same question.
“No,” Thea said finally. “Not really.”
Astrid looked down.
“I am sorry.”
The words stunned Thea.
Astrid Voss did not seem like a woman who apologized often.
Maybe because she understood that apologies meant little unless they cost something.
“What happens to the contract?” Astrid asked.
Lachlan answered immediately.
“That is Thea’s decision.”
Thea turned toward him.
Astrid did too.
“The medical costs are covered regardless,” he continued. “All of them. Her mother’s care will continue even if Thea leaves tomorrow.”
Thea’s chest tightened.
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
“It is now.”
“You can’t change it alone.”
“I already instructed legal.”
“Lachlan.”
He met her gaze.
“No condition. No repayment. No marital requirement.”
Something in her became unsteady.
For weeks, she had known the invisible chain connecting her mother’s life to this marriage.
She had hated it.
Relied on it.
Feared it.
Now he had cut it without asking for anything.
“You’re giving me a way out.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you should have had one before you walked into the cathedral.”
Thea looked away.
Astrid watched both of them.
Then she rose.
“I am going home.”
Lachlan stepped forward.
“Astrid.”
“Not tonight.”
“Security will drive you.”
“I am capable of reaching my own car.”
“I know.”
She stopped near him.
For a moment Thea thought she might touch his face.
Instead she said, “I am furious with you.”
“I know.”
“But Gideon tried to kill my grandson.”
Lachlan’s expression tightened.
Astrid’s eyes hardened.
“That makes me more furious.”
She left.
Thea remained in the drawing room.
The house became quiet again.
Lachlan poured water.
“You can go.”
Thea looked at him.
“You’ve said that three times today in different forms.”
“I want you to understand.”
“I understand.”
“You can return to Sycamore Street. Security can remain without interfering. Your mother’s bills will be covered. School too, if you’ll allow it.”
“Why school?”
“Because I promised.”
“No. The contract promised.”
“I did.”
The distinction made her chest ache.
Thea sat.
Lachlan remained standing.
“What if I stay?”
His hand stopped around the glass.
“For now,” she added quickly. “My mother is still recovering. Gideon knows about me. Leaving the property might not make me safer.”
“Correct.”
“And I want to see this through.”
“The investigation?”
“Yes.”
“That is a terrible reason to remain married.”
“It’s one reason.”
He looked at her.
Thea immediately regretted the phrasing.
“What are the others?”
“You’re annoying.”
“That seems more like a reason to leave.”
“I’ve become accustomed to it.”
His mouth moved.
“You’re making a joke.”
“I’m learning.”
He set the glass down.
Thea looked at him.
Without the glasses, he was harder to hide from.
Not because he could see.
Because she knew now how much he noticed.
She had begun noticing him too.
The way he rotated his watch.
The way his shoulders became rigid whenever Thomas’s name appeared.
The way he always checked exits.
The way he stood slightly closer to Thea in crowded spaces since the first threat.
“Why did you accept me?” she asked.
“Astrid asked.”
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
“So?”
He sat opposite her.
“I read the background report.”
“The fake one?”
“The legitimate follow-up. After Astrid met you.”
“And?”
“You worked thirty-six hours a week while attending school.”
“Lots of people work.”
“You spent eighty-one percent of your income on your mother’s care.”
Thea stiffened.
“I dislike knowing you know percentages about my life.”
“I know.”
“Continue.”
“You had no credit card debt until your mother’s hospitalization. No disciplinary record. No social media history worth mentioning. Three professors described you as stubborn.”
She smiled faintly.
“They liked me.”
“One used the phrase aggressively persistent.”
“That sounds like Professor Maddox.”
“It was.”
“Traitor.”
Lachlan continued.
“Then I met you.”
“In the study.”
“Yes.”
“You were testing me.”
“Yes.”
“What did I do?”
“You disagreed with me.”
“That impressed you?”
“Everyone else in that room had spent three years telling me what they thought I wanted to hear.”
Thea remembered.
Lachlan had asked whether Voss Foundation should close two underperforming clinics.
She had told him the question was dishonest because neither had seen the patient outcome data.
Astrid had looked horrified.
Lachlan had become very still.
Thea thought she had ruined everything.
“You liked that?”
“No.”
She frowned.
“I respected it.”
The answer felt more intimate than a compliment.
Thea looked at her hands.
“You said on our wedding night that I was the first person in three years who didn’t want something from you.”
“You wanted your mother saved.”
“That’s something.”
“It wasn’t from me.”
“What does that mean?”
“You didn’t care who I was. If Astrid had offered the same agreement with another family, you would have considered it.”
Thea winced.
“Romantic.”
“I wasn’t looking for romance.”
“Neither was I.”
Silence followed.
The problem was that something had begun growing where neither had intended to plant it.
Not love.
Too early.
Too complicated.
But familiarity.
Trust in strange places.
A dangerous awareness of the other person’s presence.
Thea stood.
“I’m staying.”
Lachlan’s eyes lifted.
“For now,” she repeated.
“I heard you.”
“But the contract changes.”
“Name the terms.”
“No more marriage requirement tied to Mom.”
“Done.”
“No control over school or work.”
“Agreed.”
“No ordering me around unless there’s an immediate physical threat.”
He frowned.
“Define immediate.”
“Someone with a weapon.”
“What about credible surveillance?”
“No.”
“Vehicle sabotage?”
“Yes.”
“Suspicious packages?”
“Depends.”
“Thea.”
“We’ll negotiate.”
His eyes narrowed.
“One more.”
She hesitated.
“If this becomes a real marriage…”
The room changed.
Neither moved.
Thea forced herself to continue.
“I mean if. Someday. Whatever. Then it happens because we both choose it after the contract no longer matters.”
Lachlan looked at her for a long time.
When he answered, his voice was quieter.
“Yes.”
“That means no expectations.”
“Yes.”
“No pretending we owe each other affection.”
“Yes.”
“No using the wedding as proof of anything.”
“Yes.”
She released a breath.
“Good.”
Lachlan stood.
“Thea.”
“What?”
He stopped close enough that she had to look slightly up at him.
“If it ever becomes real…”
Her heartbeat changed.
His gaze moved briefly to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.
“It will not be because you owe me.”
She did not trust herself to answer.
So she nodded.
He stepped back.
The distance should have helped.
It did not.
That night, Thea lay awake in the blue room.
The contract no longer trapped her.
Her mother’s care no longer depended on staying.
She could leave.
That should have made the decision easy.
Instead, for the first time since Astrid approached her on the terrace, Thea understood how frightening freedom could be.
When there was no longer a chain keeping you somewhere, staying meant something.
And downstairs, Lachlan sat alone in the library with Thomas’s letter open before him.
May you like
For three years, he had believed sight was the most important thing he had regained.
That night, he began to suspect it was trust.
