MY RUIN: In Love With My Step-Uncle-Chapter 27 - Twenty-Seven: Debt Collection

//CLARA//

I spent the morning calculating the exact value of a man’s guilty conscience.

It wasn’t something I could bring up at breakfast. Not with Aunt Cornelia sniffing around the marmalade like a bloodhound with a grudge and a fresh bottle of smelling salts. And certainly not with the servants hovering like silent, lace-trimmed ghosts.

I needed Casimir alone, in his natural habitat, where it would make my demand feel like the ransom it actually was.

By midday, the opportunity arrived. Higgins mentioned the master was in his study and under no circumstances to be disturbed.

In my world, that was basically an engraved invitation.

I didn’t knock. I simply turned the heavy brass handle and stepped into the room. The smell of leather and tobacco greeted me, the particular brand of gloom that seemed to follow Casimir everywhere. He was hunched over a mountain of ledgers, drowning in work and pretending he preferred it that way.

He looked up, and for a split second, the mask slipped. His eyes tracked me like a threat.

"Clara," he said, his voice a flat, warning note. "I am in the middle of a transaction."

"Good, because I’m here to settle an account." I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, crossing my arms.

I didn’t rush in. I let the silence settle between us, heavy and thick, until it suffocated him.

He set down his pen with a loud sigh, the click of wood on the desk sounding like a gavel. He stood up and walked toward the window as if he needed to breathe, putting the length of the room between us.

"About what?"

"About the debt you owe me." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

He turned then, his brow furrowing in genuine, quiet confusion. "The what?"

"The debt, Casimir." I tilted my head, my gaze as steady as a blade. "You’ve spent forty-eight hours treating me like a ghost, as if silence could erase the fact that you broke your own rules. I was there. I was on the receiving end when your restraint snapped. You owe me for the mess you’ve made of my status in this house."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then his jaw went slack and his shoulders dropped.

"What do you want?"

"One hundred thousand dollars."

The silence that followed was absolute.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t scoff. He actually let out a short, dry laugh that was more of a huff of disbelief.

"One hundred thousand. You want a fortune for a bruised ego?"

"A fortune." I moved away from the door. "For the silence you so desperately need. You’re a businessman, Casimir. You know that secrets have a price, and mine doesn’t come cheap."

I circled slowly, letting my heels click against the hardwood.

"You’ve been so keen on lecturing me about scandal, about ruin, about the dangers of being found out. Funny how that works—you were warning the wrong person." I smiled. "Consider this the cost of doing business with a woman who isn’t as easy to control as you thought."

"And for what purpose?" He crossed his arms. The late afternoon light caught the tension in his jaw. "What does a girl in your position do with that kind of sum?"

"That’s the beauty of it." I stopped at his desk, running a finger along the edge of his ledgers. "It’s my business."

"Clara." My name came out tight and controlled, but I could sense his patience fraying at the edges. "You can’t just walk in here, declare a debt I didn’t know I owed, and demand a fortune."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping into that dangerous register that usually made my knees weak, but I refused to let it affect me today.

"Watch me."

We stood there, inches apart, neither willing to break first. I could feel the tension coiling in his shoulders like a predator deciding whether to pounce.

My heart hammered against my ribs, but my face remained a mask of cool indifference.

"You can refuse, of course. But then we both know what that makes you. A man who defaults on his obligations. A man who takes what he wants. Against the bookshelf—" I ticked them off on my fingers. "In the woods at sunset. Behind my bedroom door. In the hedge maze. Against the stable walls."

I stepped into his space, close enough to feel his heat. "You can’t take all of that and leave the bill unpaid."

I watched the cracks spread through his marble facade until I could see the man underneath drowning in a sea of his own contradictions.

Did I feel cheap? Maybe. I sounded like a hooker counting her cash after the client rolled over. But if I wanted to win this game, I needed to know how to wield every weapon at my disposal and use whatever ammunition I’ve got.

He ran a hand through his hair. His gaze drifted toward the window as if the answer might be written in the golden light. I watched the gears turn behind his eyes, the calculations, the weighing of options.

Even frustrated, he was infuriatingly handsome. Finally, he turned back to me.

"One hundred thousand dollars. In your name. To be used at your sole discretion."

I blinked.

That was it? No argument? No negotiation? I’d loaded my arsenal for a war, and he’d surrendered before the first shot.

"Yes."

The word hung there, deceptively simple. But I knew him better than that. Casimir Guggenheim didn’t surrender. He repositioned.

Sure enough, the predatory gleam was back in his eyes.

"But—"

Of course. There was always a but.

His hand catching my jaw. The heat of his palm seeped into my skin, and I hated how much I didn’t want him to let go.

"In business, no one provides that much capital without a guarantee. A collateral, per se." His thumb traced lazy patterns along my cheekbone. "You want your money? Fine. But I want a promise."

"I’m calling in a debt, Casimir. You don’t get to add clauses to a late payment."

A sinister smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not the protective guardian. Not the cold and ruthless magnate. This was the man underneath both masks who’d had me against bookshelves and in my room and everywhere in between.

"This is a new terms, Clara." His voice dropped like velvet over steel.

"You get your funds. No questions asked about where it goes." His eyes never left mine, reading every micro-expression I tried to hide. "And in exchange, I get a favor. One I can collect at a time of my choosing."

The air between us turned thin, electric. I could feel the weight of his words settling into my bones.

"That’s not a business transaction," I managed, though my voice came out thinner than I’d intended. "That’s extortion."

"Is it?" A muscle ticked in his jaw, the only crack in that stoic facade. "You’re the one who barged in here and demanded a king’s ransom for a debt I never signed for."

His gaze dropped to my mouth for the barest fraction of a second before snapping back to my eyes. "Don’t you think it’s only fair I set my own interest rate?"

I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming against the hand he still held to my jaw. "And I can’t say no?"

"You can say whatever you like, Clara. Recently, you’ve never been short on words." His thumb slid across my lower lip, pressing softly. "But you won’t. Because you want this money badly enough to play by my rules. And when I finally come to collect... you won’t want to say no."

It wasn’t just a deal. It was a slow-motion collision. But I thought of Oliver. Of the machine that would burn Catherine’s sensible world to the ground.

"Done," I whispered.

His eyes darkened, the hunger he’d been hiding since last night finally surging to the surface.

"Good. I’ll have the bank drafts prepared by evening."

"How romantic."

The words came out light and airy, which would have been perfect if my voice hadn’t cracked on the last syllable like a fourteen-year-old boy going through puberty.

I stepped back, needing distance and turn around to leave before I did something monumentally stupid—like stay, or beg him to shut up and kiss me, or both.

I could feel his gaze on my back like a hand pressing between my shoulder blades.

"Clara."

I paused but didn’t turn. Nope. I couldn’t trust myself to look at him right now.

"What?"

"I don’t know what game you’re playing," he said softly, in a way I’d rarely heard from him. "But I hope it’s worth the price you just set."

"It’s going to be a masterpiece, Casimir. Just wait."

I walked out, made it to my room, and leaned against the door until my breathing leveled out.

One hundred thousand dollars. One favor. One man who had no idea what he’d just unleashed.

The game was finally moving.

And I always played to win.