His Father Bought Me-Chapter 32: A Nobody

Vance didn’t reply immediately. His grip tightened around the handles of the wheelchair, his knuckles whitening slightly. "Why are you wearing that dress?" he asked, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his tone clipped.

Estelle glanced down at herself in the gown. Her stomach dipped. Oh no. For a split second, her mind went blank. Then she forced herself to breathe, lifting her chin just a fraction as she gathered something, anything, that sounded believable.

"Well, we were preparing for our first appearance," she said, keeping her voice steady, though her fingers curled faintly against her lap. "I was just trying on some of the dresses Roman got for me," she said, but she didn’t look back at him, didn’t dare.

The elevator hummed softly beneath them, the air feeling more suffocating with every passing second. Then, ding. The sound broke the tension.

Vance finally looked at her. "There’s something you’re about to learn that will be valuable to you in this house," he said, his voice calm but carrying weight. "Pay close attention."

Before she could respond or even ask what he meant, he was already pushing the chair forward. The doors slid open, and just as quickly, they closed behind them.

—

The air outside was colder.

Estelle’s eyes flicked around as they moved forward, the unease in her stomach sharpening. The space felt different, more enclosed, the lighting dimmer, the walls bare in a way that made the silence feel suffocating.

This wasn’t where stylists worked; it couldn’t be. This felt lower, like it was hidden. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Finally, they stopped in front of a door, and Vance stepped ahead, knocking once before opening it without a word. Then he moved aside.

Estelle nearly choked on her breath as her gaze lifted and landed inside. She gripped the arm of her chair with trembling fingers, steadying herself.

Magnus sat at the far end of the room in a large, imposing chair, the structure almost throne-like in the way it dominated the space. The dim lighting cast shadows across his face, sharpening every line of his hard face, and he was looking at her like he had been waiting too long already.

Estelle swallowed, her throat tight as Vance pushed her forward into the room. The door shut behind them with a soft, final click. "Why am I here?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended. Her heart was pounding now, too loud and unrelenting.

Magnus leaned forward slightly, his expression hardening, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her chest tighten. "What made you think you could go against me and get away with it?" he said slowly, his voice a low growl.

The words sent a chill down her spine.

Estelle’s pulse spiked, her fingers digging into the armrests. "I—I don’t understand," she said, forcing the words out, her voice careful. "I didn’t—"

"Did you forget," Magnus cut in sharply, his tone snapping through the room, "that Roman is my flesh and blood?" He leaned forward further, his gaze burning. "The only thing making you a Whitehall is that contract I signed, and that ring on your finger."

Each word landed hard in her chest.

"If I take that from you," he continued, his voice dropping, dangerous now, "and tear up that contract, you go back to being irrelevant." His eyes traced her frame in the chair. "A nobody."

Estelle’s throat tightened, her eyes stinging, but she didn’t look away.

"And in case you’ve forgotten," he added coldly, "you no longer have the leverage you once did." His gaze dipped briefly, pointed. "So what does that leave you as?" He let the implication hang in the air.

Estelle swallowed hard, her chest rising as she forced herself to stay upright, to not let him see the crack. "I don’t—"

"I have one piece of advice for you," Magnus interrupted, his tone quieter now, but no less sharp.

He leaned back slightly, studying her. "Before you let Roman push you into anything, remember this." His eyes held hers, unblinking. "When everything falls apart, he still has his legs to walk away."

The room went still.

"And you..." He didn’t finish, he didn’t need to, the look in his eyes said enough.

Estelle felt her stomach twist at his words, a sharp, uneasy pull that refused to settle, but she didn’t let it show. Her spine stayed straight, her chin lifted just enough to hold the line. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice controlled.

Magnus didn’t answer.

Instead, Vance’s voice came from behind her, smooth. "Clause 17c of the contract." The words made her head turn sharply, her breath catching as she looked at him.

"Your allegiance must be to Magnus Whitehall only," Vance continued, his tone almost clinical. "And if, at any point, he feels that has changed, you will face the consequences, which include—"

"There’s no need for threats." Estelle cut in, her voice steady, too steady for how fast her heart was racing. She turned back to Magnus, refusing to let the fear surface. "Just tell me what you want."

She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "We made that appearance because we thought it was what you wanted," she added, her fingers tightening slightly against the armrest. "Everything you saw, we did it following your lead."

Magnus’s jaw tightened, his fingers pressing deeper into the armrest of his chair. "Are you trying to be clever again, Estelle?" he asked, his tone dipping into something darker.

But she didn’t back down. "No," she said, meeting his gaze. "There is—"

"You’d better not," he cut in, sharper now. "For your own good."

The warning lingered in the air, and then Magnus stood. The movement was slow, and the faint rustle of his suit was the only sound as he adjusted the jacket and stepped forward. His shoes echoed softly against the floor as he made his way toward the door.

Estelle tracked him with her eyes, tension coiling tighter in her chest. Then, he stopped beside her, close enough that she could feel his presence without him touching her.

"As a father to a daughter," he said, his voice quieter now, almost measured, "if you want an ally, you need to choose wisely."

Estelle’s lips pressed together. "You are not my father," she murmured under her breath.

The words were soft, but not soft enough because Magnus heard them. So did Vance.

A slow smile spread across Magnus’s face. "You have two options," he said, turning his head slightly toward her. "Align yourself with the one who can help you stand again, or stand beside the one who will push you a second time." The words landed cold. "But I trust you’ll choose wisely."

Estelle’s throat tightened. "I wasn’t pushed," she said quietly. "I fell."

Magnus’s smile didn’t fade. "Is that what your mother told you? Or did Henry tell you that?"