Chapter 9.

"What do you think you were doing?" Silas asked, his voice flat and cold.

I froze just inside the doorway, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me. My hand instinctively tightened around the thin paper folder Julian had given me. I tried to look relaxed, throwing my shoulders back to channel Veronica's arrogant posture.

"I was doing my job, Silas," I said, keeping my voice even. "I was setting the trap."

"You were playing with fire," Silas said.

Before I could even take a step to hide the document behind my back, he moved. He was too fast. In two large strides, he closed the distance between us. His fingers locked around my wrist with a grip like iron, and with his other hand, he easily slid the folder out of my grasp.

"Explain what this is," Silas demanded, holding the folder up between us. "Now."

I cursed Ivan in my mind. The silent driver must have called Silas the second he saw me talking to Julian on the street. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but no words came out. I couldn't find a logical excuse that would satisfy him. The silence in the room stretched, heavy and suffocating, and I could see the irritation growing in his gray eyes.

Silas didn't wait for my response. He turned his back on me, opened the folder, and began to read through the neat rows of numbers.

For a second, I imagined reaching out and snatching the papers back from his hands. But I knew that would only make things worse. He was the one holding all the cards, and I was still the escaped convict whose life depended on his goodwill.

The silence became too loud to bear. My nerves got the better of me.

"I can explain," I began, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Julian was the one who called me. He was boasting about the news broadcast, and I realized his guard was completely down. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to push him for the financial records. If I didn't take the chance right then, we might have had to wait weeks for another opening, and the clock is—"

"Be quiet, Vivian," Silas snapped.

He didn't yell, but the sheer force in his voice cut me off instantly. He tossed the folder carelessly onto the nearby coffee table.

Before I could blink, his hand shot out and gripped my neck.

My pulse took a sudden halt. His palm was warm, but his grip was firm, pressing just hard enough against my throat to stop my breath. He leaned in so close I could see the tiny gold flecks in his gray eyes.

"I told you once before," Silas whispered, his voice dangerously low. "You do not make independent moves. I do not want to see you whispering in his ear again. Do you understand me?"

I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. For a terrifying second, I genuinely thought I couldn't breathe. The room seemed to tilt. Just as the panic began to take over, he released me, stepping back.

I gasped, drawing a cold breath into my lungs. My throat smarted, and a rush of angry heat flooded my face. I massaged my neck with one hand, glaring at him. The fear vanished, replaced by pure, blinding rage.

I stepped forward, grabbed him by the arm, and raised my other hand to strike his face.

Silas didn't flinch. He simply raised one eyebrow, watching my hand hang in the air.

The cold calculation in his gaze made me freeze. I knew hitting him would ruin everything. Slowly, bitterly, I dropped my hand back to my side, but I didn't back down.

"I understand that I am dispensable to you," I spat, my voice shaking with anger. "I know I am just a tool for your corporate war. But you will stop manhandling me, Silas."

"Is that so?" Silas asked, his tone completely flat.

"Yes, it is," I said, stepping closer to him. "Julian was a monster. He framed me, he stole my life, and he threw me to the wolves. But in all the years we were together, he never once tried to lay a hand on me. He never tried to hit me. I did not escape a concrete cell just to let you choke me in a mansion. I will not tolerate it from you."

Silas listened to my speech, his expression completely blank. He didn't apologize. He didn't even acknowledge the anger in my voice. Instead, he simply reached down, picked up the folder from the coffee table, and tucked it under his arm.

"I am keeping this file," Silas said calmly. "I need to study these figures to see if Julian is lying to you."

I let out a sharp laugh. "Are you serious right now? You almost killed me because you felt I was making a wrong move. You accused me of enjoyed his company. And now you are going to take the very document I risked my life to get?"

Silas sighed, a sound of pure exhaustion. "You need to learn to stop asking so many questions, Vivian."

"I deserve answers," I snapped.

"You got the files. That was smart," Silas admitted, his voice softening just a fraction. "But from now on, you do things through me. Every call, every meeting, every document. You do not go rogue."

He stepped closer, reaching out to tap my cheek with two fingers. It was a mockingly gentle gesture that made my jaw clench.

"I have to be somewhere," Silas said.

I let out a breath, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to me. I turned toward the couch, intending to sit down and rest my aching feet. But before my knees could bend, Silas grabbed my wrist.

He didn't squeeze, but he pulled me along with him as he walked toward the front door.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to pull my wrist free. "I want to rest."

"You can rest in the car," Silas said, pulling open the door. "You are coming with me.”