Chapter 56

Tiffany’s POV

The house was quiet when I stepped inside, the scent of sandalwood lingering—a scent that usually promised comfort but now felt like a veil over a looming disaster. I kicked off my shoes, fantasizing about slipping into pajamas and sinking into the oblivion of sleep.

The instant my eyes landed on the living room, the calm shattered. Robin sat on my sofa as though it were his own throne.

One leg crossed over the other, his arms sprawled with arrogant confidence across the backrest. His eyes carried a sharp, glinting gleam I associated with trouble, and the smirk on his lips made my blood boil before he spoke.

“What the hell are you doing here, Robin?” I snapped, my voice cutting the silence like a sharpened blade.

My jaw tightened until the muscle ached, and my pulse surged against my temples. Seeing him in my home felt like a violation.

Robin tilted his head, as if amused by my outrage, which only fueled my fury. “Relax, Tiffany,” he said, his tone soft, mocking. “I’m not here to murder you. Just relax.”

I cut him off before he could milk my discomfort for his own satisfaction. “Then tell me why you’re here.”

My arms folded across my chest, the gesture doing little to restrain the hot tide of anger. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locking onto mine with predatory intensity.

“So…” He let the word stretch out, making it sound like poison dripping into a wound. “How are things going with Avery?”

The familiar way he said her name, like he had a right to speak it, made my stomach clench. My voice grew frigid.

“What do you mean?”

Robin chuckled, a dry sound, and pulled out his phone. “Come on, Tiffany. Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s happening between you two.”

He tapped the screen, and a faint sound filled the room. A call recording—my voice, Avery’s voice.

The intimate echo of a private conversation. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. My eyes flicked from the phone to his face, a wave of horror washing over me.

He raised a brow, a picture of smug innocence, and slid the phone back into his pocket. “Don’t worry. I won’t leak it. Not yet, anyway.”

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms. I glared at him, my eyes burning with hatred and disgust.

“You bastard,” I whispered, my voice trembling from the weight of my restrained anger. Robin’s smirk deepened, turning devilish.

“You didn’t notice me last night at the birthday party. But I noticed you. Every moment. Especially when that marriage alliance was announced.”

His voice dropped, sharp and cutting. “And then, her eyes moved. Automatically. Towards you.”

The memory clawed at me—the sudden announcement, the heavy air of expectation in the ballroom, Avery’s gaze instinctively shifting, finding mine across the room. It had been fleeting, a millisecond of unguarded honesty, but undeniable.

Now, that brief moment served as a weapon in Robin’s hand. “What do you want, Robin?”

My voice came out quiet, a low sound that carried the strength of steel. He leaned back against the cushions, the picture of smugness.

“Nothing. I just wanted you to know that if Avery dares to go against her parents, you know what’ll happen.”

He paused for effect, letting the menace sink in. “She might give up her Von Carter title. She might cut ties with them. Because I know stubbornness when I see it—it’s inheritable.”

His grin widened, a cold, predatory flash. “And when that happens? Everything comes crashing down. Her career, her future, her name… over. Just the way I want it.”

I swallowed hard, the effort painful, forcing myself to hold his hateful gaze. Robin spread his hands in a gesture of mock innocence.

“If you back off, she’ll destroy herself anyway. If you stay with her, she’ll go against them, and she’ll lose everything. Either way, I win.”

I took a sharp, aggressive step toward him, my glare searing. “Why do you think I’d ever leave her?”

His smile turned demonic, his eyes glinting like a predator who had ensnared his prey. “Because you won’t want Avery to lose everything waiting for her. You love her, Tiffany. And that love is going to be her undoing.”

My chest tightened, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm. He was twisting everything, taking the purest, strongest feeling in my life and making it sound like fatal poison.

Robin tapped the pocket where the phone rested, a chilling reminder of his leverage. “And if, just in case, I leak all these recordings and texts—the ones I’ve been tracing since your Italy trip—what do you think will happen? The Von Carters’ image? Ruined. Utterly destroyed.”

I felt the air rush out of my lungs, leaving me breathless. He had been tapping my phone since Italy?

A desperate rage burned in my veins, but a cold, constricting fear coiled around it. His eyes narrowed with mock amusement, enjoying my reaction.

“Tell me, Tiffany… do you think it’ll be acceptable that the Von Carters’ one and only heir would have a wife in the future—a woman of thirty-six, with a son? Although he isn’t your blood, he carries your name. And names matter, don’t they?”

His words twisted the knife, aimed with cruel precision at the heart of my insecurities. My fists trembled, nails cutting deeper into my palms, but I refused to let him see me falter.

Robin went on, his tone dripping with venom and perverse admiration. “And Avery? She’d do anything to keep you. Anything. Even if it costs her career, her life, her title—their precious heir’s position she’s about to acquire. I’ve seen many in the business world, but I must admit one thing: Avery is exceptional. Miraculous, even. Efficient now, but in a few years? She’ll be unstoppable. That’s why destroying her will be… delicious.”

I shook my head, my teeth clenched, a storm of rage spilling into every nerve of my body. “But now,” Robin continued, lowering his tone, pulling me back to the present danger, “you need to decide what you’re going to do. Because I meant every word. Don’t you dare tell her about this, Tiffany. Otherwise, the price you’ll pay will be heavier than you can imagine.”

His smirk deepened, his eyes dark, promising malice. “I want to see the Von Carters destroyed before my eyes.”

I felt my throat tighten, my breath becoming shallow. His words were like barbed hooks, dragging me into his web.

“And this?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent chills down my spine. “This is just the trailer. I have the whole picture. And I’ll make sure the Von Carters burn. The same way they destroyed me.”

He straightened, his smirk never fading. “Oh, and at least… this is the least I can do for Deluca and Bianchi. Two men who were working inside the Von Carters… but for me.”

Shock painted my face, the names hitting me like a bucket of cold water. My lips parted, but no word came out.

Robin chuckled, his confidence growing with my terror. “You didn’t know? Of course you didn’t. But you’ll learn soon enough.”

With that, he rose from the sofa, moving with unhurried ease, as though he had accomplished a minor errand. He walked past me, his shoulder grazing mine, a final, insolent touch.

I stood frozen, my fists clenched, my heart racing. I could still feel the cold, slimy venom of his words crawling beneath my skin.

I wanted to scream, to throw something, to chase him out with every ounce of rage and disgust. But my body, betrayed by shock and fear, refused to move.

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the silence like a judge’s gavel sealing a verdict. I remained there, staring at the empty sofa where he had sat, my breath coming in ragged bursts.

Every word he spoke was a calculated threat. Every word carried a truth I could not dismiss.

Robin was not bluffing. He had proof, leverage, and the kind of malicious cunning that could dismantle everything Avery had meticulously built—everything she was.

Now the unbearable weight of a choice pressed against me like a stone on my chest. Protect Avery and risk her losing everything, her entire life—or walk away, and break her heart to save her future.

Robin’s poisonous voice echoed in my mind, haunting and triumphant. In every situation, I win.

But I refused to believe that. I would not.

Even if it killed me, I had to find a way to protect Avery. To protect us.

To turn Robin’s arrogant victory into his downfall. This was not just his game anymore.

It was mine now, too. The door had barely clicked shut, and yet the silence was deafening.

I stood rooted to the spot, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The room still smelled of his cologne—sharp, acrid, the kind of cheap scent that clung to walls like smoke after a fire.

My fists slowly uncurled, leaving crescent-shaped indentations in my palms. My legs felt heavy, numb, but I forced myself to sink down onto the sofa, the place he’d been sitting.

The cushions were still warm. That thought alone made me flinch, as if the fabric had been tainted by his arrogance, his venom.

I buried my face in my trembling hands, and for an agonizing moment, I wanted to let out a soul-shattering scream. No sound came out.

Only silence, and the inescapable echo of his hateful words. If Avery dares to go against her parents… she might give up her Von Carter title. She might cut ties with them. Everything comes crashing down.

I closed my eyes, and Avery’s face swam before me, beautiful and fierce. Her stubbornness, her inner fire, her refusal to ever bend to anyone’s will.

He was not wrong about that—she would sacrifice everything if it meant keeping me. I knew it in my bones.

I had seen it in her resolute eyes, in the way she squared her shoulders at the party, the passionate way she’d held my hand at the farmhouse, vowing she’d never say yes to anyone else. A hard, painful knot twisted in my chest.

Could I truly let her do that? Could I stand idly by and watch her burn the vast empire she had been groomed to inherit—her birthright, her legacy—just to hold on to me?

I shook my head, my nails digging into my scalp. “No,” I whispered to the empty room, the word laced with desperation. “No, Robin doesn’t get to decide that. He doesn’t get to win.”

But his voice, his chilling prediction, refused to leave the confines of my mind. Either way, I win.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. If he leaked those recordings… if he exposed everything…

The Von Carters’ reputation was flawless, carefully constructed, and impenetrable. Generations of power, of unwavering legacy, of constructed alliances.

One single whisper, one scandal, could shake the very foundations of their world. Robin knew it.

He knew exactly where, and how, to strike the fatal blow. And then came the cruelest part, his dagger twisted with precision: Do you think it’ll be acceptable… that the Von Carters’ heir would have a wife… a thirty-six-year-old woman with a son?

I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, as if that gesture could stop the stabbing pain radiating through it. I hated myself in that moment—for letting his words sting, for letting his vile insinuations creep under my skin.

It was not the truth. I knew it was not.

Avery loved me. She had chosen me, again and again, with full knowledge.

She did not care about my age, or the fact that I carried responsibilities, or that my life was messier than the polished, porcelain-perfect heirs her parents paraded in front of her. But the world cared.

The world cared deeply about appearances, about damaging whispers. Robin… he possessed the power to turn those whispers into a devastating storm.

I thought of the birthday party, the night everything had shifted so dangerously. The chandelier lights glittering, the soft clinking of expensive glasses, the Von Carters’ announcement slicing through the air like a razor blade.

My breath had caught then, my palms had gone cold. In the middle of all the murmurs, all the forced, congratulatory smiles, her eyes had found mine.

Robin was right. It had not been planned, but it had happened—her gaze had been drawn to me, as though every tie, every façade, every social mask she wore had crumbled.

It had been brief, but to a malicious mind like Robin’s, that single, honest look was enough ammunition to start a war. I leaned back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

My mind replayed the farmhouse, my voice trembling but firm when I’d said, You’ll always have me. I’m here, always. But you won’t take such a drastic step.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. If she meant that—if she truly meant it—then how could I betray her by stepping aside, by letting Robin scare me into leaving her?

And yet… the recordings. The texts. The phone tapping since Italy. The mention of Deluca and Bianchi.

My breath hitched. Italy. A hundred panicked questions surged.

How long had he truly been listening? What exactly did he know?

What had he gathered in his time spying? My stomach twisted into a cold, hard knot.

The Italy trip had been ours—a chance for Avery and me to breathe, to escape the suffocating expectations, to simply exist as two people in love, even if only for a few stolen days. Had he been watching even then?

Recording? Spying on our most private moments? A profound chill spread through me.

I felt violated, exposed, like every private word and touch we’d shared had been stolen, corrupted, and turned into a weapon. This is just the trailer, Tiffany. I have the whole picture.

I shivered. If that was true, what else did he have?

I pushed myself up from the sofa, beginning a frantic pace across the carpet. My hands shook, and I clenched them into fists, forcing myself to take measured breaths.

I could not tell Avery—not yet. Robin was right about one thing: if she knew, she’d throw herself into the fire for me, for us.

She’d take the fall before I even had a chance to argue or plan. That was exactly what he wanted.

But could I lie to her? Could I look into her eyes tomorrow, pretend everything was fine, while carrying this raging, silent storm inside me?

The thought made my chest ache. I stopped pacing and walked toward the window, the night outside stretching dark and cold.

My own reflection stared back—haunted, tired, but beneath the fear, something else was burning. Determination.

Robin thought he had already won. He thought he held all the cards in his wicked hand.

But he desperately underestimated one crucial thing: me. I was scared, deeply so.

His threats rattled me to the core. But I would not let him dictate my choices.

I would not let him use me, the person Avery loved, to destroy her. Not now.

Not ever. I pressed a hand to the cold glass of the window, whispering to myself, the words a fierce vow.

“There has to be a way.” In that moment, even though my body felt exhausted, my spirit felt sharper, more focused than it had all evening.

Because Robin was not the only one capable of playing dangerous games. I would think.

I would plan. When the time came, I would make sure the Von Carters stood tall, Avery stood unharmed, and Robin learned the devastating cost of crossing me.

But for now… I had to keep this secret locked inside me, no matter how much it tore me apart. Because if Avery ever found out… she’d burn the whole world down to protect me.

And I could not let her. I felt a light nudge on my shoulder, dragging me out of the spiral of thoughts.

My eyes fluttered open, and for a heartbeat, I forgot where I was. Then the outlines sharpened, and I saw Mom standing there, her gaze filled with concern, and beside her, Ethan, his little face glowing with the uncontainable joy only a child could carry.

I blinked, pulling myself straight on the sofa, smoothing my hair, trying to erase the visible traces of turmoil that I knew were written all over my face. My voice came out much steadier than I expected.

“When did you two get back from the trip?” I asked, forcing a weak smile. Then I turned fully to Ethan, ruffling his hair.

“And how was it, sweetheart? Did you enjoy yourself?” His eyes lit up like a thousand tiny stars.

“I enjoyed a lot, Mom!” he said, his voice bubbling over with excitement. “Granny let me do everything I wanted! I ate ice cream twice in one day, and I stayed up late. And she even let me ride the pony at the farm, the one with the white spot!”

His words tumbled out, a cascade of innocent happiness, and for a precious moment, the heaviness in my chest eased. But then he rubbed his eyes and let out a dramatic yawn, the sparkles of excitement dimming with sudden tiredness.

“I’m sleepy now,” he mumbled, leaning his weight against me. I brushed a soft kiss against his forehead.

“Alright, my love.” Raising my voice, I called out, “Erin!”

A few moments later, Erin, his caretaker, appeared at the doorway with her calm efficiency. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Take Ethan to his room, please,” I instructed softly, stroking his hair one last time before letting go. “Give him a bath first, then feed him breakfast. After that, let him sleep. He’s exhausted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Erin said with a nod, taking Ethan’s hand. Ethan looked back once over his shoulder, gave me a sleepy, sweet smile, then padded off with Erin down the long hallway.

The house grew quiet once more, but it was far from peaceful. Mom had not moved from where she stood.

She was watching me—watching me with that piercing gaze only she possessed. The kind of gaze that seemed to strip away all pretense, cutting through every wall I tried to build around myself.

I swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “What?” I tried to deflect, feigning ignorance. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Her brows arched. “Like what?”

Her tone was calm, a prelude to a storm, but I knew her too well. She had already seen the weariness stamped in my eyes, the stiffness in my shoulders, the strain of my smile.

She could smell a secret the way wolves could smell fear. “Like you’re trying to read me,” I muttered, turning my face away, pretending to fuss with straightening the cushions on the sofa.

“Because I am trying to read you,” she said, taking a step closer. “Don’t stall me, Tiffany. Something is profoundly wrong. I can see it as clear as daylight.”

I pressed my lips together, hoping silence would save me. But silence had never saved me with Mom.

She had the patience of stone and the persistence of the tide. I could feel her stare burning into me, demanding the truth.

Finally, my shoulders slumped in defeat, and I let out a shaky breath that had been trapped in my lungs for hours. My throat felt dry, but the words spilled out anyway.

“Robin was here.” Her eyes narrowed, her expression sharpening into a look of cold, contained fury.

“What?” I clenched my fists in my lap, forcing myself to continue the confession.

“He… he came into the house. Sat right there,” I gestured numbly at the sofa, “like he owned the place. And he—” My voice faltered.

My mother stepped closer, placing her warm, firm hand over mine, steadying me with the gesture she always had when I was a terrified child. “And he what?”

She pressed, though there was a core of steel beneath her tone. I lifted my gaze to meet hers, and everything I had been holding back for hours—the fear, the rage, the terror—poured out in an agonizing rush.

I told her everything—every poisonous word Robin had thrown at me. About the recordings, the texts, the realization of the phone tapping since Italy.

About how he had watched me at the birthday party, how he had seen Avery’s eyes shift to me the moment the alliance was announced. About his chilling threats, his twisted smile, the sickening way he promised that no matter what happened, he would win.

And finally, the cruelest jab of all: how he mocked the idea of Avery being tied to a woman like me—with my age, my responsibilities, my son. When I finished, the silence that fell between us was heavy and suffocating.

My mother’s face was a mask of stone, but her hand was gripping mine tightly enough to hurt, a visible sign of her immense, controlled emotion. “You should have thrown him out the second he stepped in,” she said, her voice trembling not with fear, but with a fierce, cold fury. “He’s playing a dangerous, malicious game, Tiffany. And you…”

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t carry this burden alone.”

Her words felt like a knife twisting in me, close to the truth. “I can’t tell Avery,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “You know her, Mom. She’ll burn the world down if she finds out. She’ll throw herself into the fire without a second thought, and Robin knows that. That’s why he came to me first. That’s why he chose me.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her silence on the matter louder than any spoken words. I rubbed my temples, exhaustion seeping into every bone.

“I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to protect her without tearing myself apart.”

A mundane but piercing thought struck me—I hadn’t gone to college. I hadn’t realized the time, so consumed was I by the threat.

Panic spiked, then settled under the weight of everything else. I pulled my phone from the table and typed a brief, dull application for leave, sending it to the college email.

“There,” I muttered, my voice flat. “One less thing to worry about today.”

The screen dimmed in my hand. I sat back, staring at nothing, my mind compulsively replaying Robin’s words in suffocating circles.

No matter how hard I tried to push them away, one truth remained. I had to make a choice.

And soon. The house was quiet after Ethan had gone to his room.

Erin had closed the door, a sound barely heard, and my mother had drifted into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea. I stayed rooted to the sofa, staring at the blank wall as if it could absorb the raging storm in my mind.

Robin’s voice kept echoing, sharp and mocking, in every corner of my head. If Avery goes against her parents, you know what’ll happen… She’ll lose the title, the power, the empire. Everything will crash… And if you back off, she’ll destroy herself. Either way, I win.

I shut my eyes, trying to breathe past the pressure in my chest. My fists ached from clenching, and when I finally forced them open, I saw crescent-shaped marks where my nails had dug deep into the skin.

Protect her or lose her. That was the impossible choice Robin had thrust upon me.

I got up, pacing the room, the restlessness an unbearable sensation. The soft thud of my footsteps on the carpet did little to drown out the frenzied thoughts racing through me.

How could I tell Avery? If she knew, she’d go to war for me—for us.

And Robin was right about one thing: she’d do it recklessly, with fierce stubbornness, without considering the cost. That inherited stubbornness was as much in her blood as the Von Carter name.

But hiding it? Pretending nothing was wrong?

That would eat me alive. She’d see it in my eyes.

She always did. By the time Mom returned with the tea, my head was pounding.

She placed the cup in front of me, then sat across from me, her gaze firm. “You need to calm down,” she said, her voice soft but with authority. “Your mind is racing itself into madness.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” I admitted, pressing the heels of my palms against my throbbing eyes. “Every path I look at leads to her being hurt. Either she fights and loses everything, or she never knows and I burn in agonizing silence.”

Mom sipped her tea for a moment, her gaze thoughtful, then said, “Sometimes the best way to protect someone isn’t to shield them entirely from the truth, but to prepare them for it. Avery isn’t a child, Tiffany. She’s a formidable woman who has chosen you, stubbornness and all. Do not rob her of her choice.”

Her words cut deep because they rang with truth, yet fear clung to me like a shroud. I wanted to protect Avery, even if it meant lying, even if it meant carrying this weight alone.

I stayed there, debating in my mind, until the day stretched into the late afternoon. Ethan was asleep, the household had settled into a quiet routine, and I remained stuck in the tormenting loop of my thoughts.

Then, the message blinked on my dark screen like an unexpected lifeline. Avery: Why didn’t you come to university today?

Avery: I didn’t go either. Had to talk to Mom. I made it clear – I’m not interested in any of the suitors she’s lining up. I’ve already got my eyes on someone. Mom wasn’t happy, but I’ll make her understand. If she doesn’t, she can find someone else to carry the Von Carters legacy.

My thumb hovered, trembling, wanting to reply with a string of panicked questions, relief, a laugh, and all the private, loving endearments I kept just for her. Are you okay? How did she react? Did she ask why? Do you know what Robin said?

Instead of words, my chest filled with a thick, hot, terrifying silence. Her message was both a blade and a soothing balm.

It set my teeth on edge because it meant she had already acted—boldly, publicly, dangerously—and it softened me because it meant she had fiercely chosen: she’d staked her name, her future, her very self, on us. That kind of choice didn’t come back from anything easily.

It made the threat sitting in my living room the night before feel like a live wire stretched across both our throats, ready to snap and deliver a fatal shock. I thought of her in the drawing room, her voice steady, her jaw set with determination, telling her mother she wouldn’t be a bargaining chip.

I imagined the chandeliers trembling over my mother’s calculated silence; I imagined the way my mother would look at Avery—appraising, not because she hated the choice, but because legacy is meticulous work, and it terrifies people when love refuses to fit their blueprints. I wanted to answer her so badly that it hurt—to tell her that I loved her more than life, that I was safe, that I was furious at Robin and would burn whatever he planned to ash before it touched her.

But Robin had said the one thing that made my fingertips freeze over the keyboard: he’d been tracing my phone since Italy. He had openly boasted about tapping, about recordings, about stitching together private moments into a tapestry of public humiliation.

Any benign, loving reply could be intercepted, clipped, misread, and weaponized. So I did the most infantile, the most adult, the most terrifying thing possible in those panicked moments: I switched the phone off.

The screen went black, mirroring the void in my own stomach, leaving me alone in the silent house with my fear, my rage, and the impossible choice hanging over my head.