The past week had felt like a lifetime. Watching Peyton begin to recover after her parents arrived was both a relief and a reminder of how fragile everything was. She had come back to life in a way I hadn't seen before, the spark returning to her eyes, the color to her cheeks. But it wasn't because of anything I did—it was her parents. They gave her something I couldn't: a sense of safety, of home.
I kept my distance, giving her the space she needed while making sure she had everything to aid her recovery. She still hadn't spoken much, but I could tell she was grateful. Every time our eyes met, there was a silent acknowledgment, an understanding that didn't require words. I could feel it—she appreciated what I had done for her, even if she couldn't say it yet. But that wasn't enough to erase the pain and fear I saw in her.
My secretary had come through with the information I'd asked for. Peyton's background was more tragic than I'd imagined. Her parents were still alive, but Lucas had done everything in his power to isolate her from them, to cut her off from anyone who might have been able to help her. He had the means, of course, and even though her parents weren't poor, they didn't have the kind of influence to fight someone like Lucas Hamilton. They had been living in another country, trying to piece their lives together while worrying endlessly about their daughter.
I'd made sure Lucas would never find Peyton. I cleaned up every trace, covered every clue that could lead back to her. It wasn't easy, but I had the resources. I've hidden her well, and as long as I'm here, no one will harm her again. She's recovering, slowly but surely, but there's still a long way to go. She hasn't spoken to me directly, but I can see the gratitude in her eyes. Every glance, every small gesture, tells me she knows what I've done for her.
But the question that's been gnawing at me is one I can't avoid any longer: What do I do now?
James, my closest friend and a man who has been with me through thick and thin, finally voiced what I'd been thinking. "So what's the plan now, Karl? You can't hide her forever. Lucas is a powerful man. He's not going to just give up."
He was right, of course. Lucas Hamilton was a man with reach, influence, and enough ruthlessness to go after whatever—or whoever—he wanted. And Peyton… Peyton was something he wouldn't let go of easily. She wasn't just his wife; she was a possession, something he believed belonged to him. The thought made my blood boil.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I tried to think. Honestly, I had no idea what the next move should be. Hiding Peyton was only a temporary solution. Sooner or later, Lucas would come looking for her, and I needed to be ready for that.
"The only way to protect her is to take her under my wing," I murmured, the weight of the words heavy on my chest. I knew what that meant, what it would take. My mind raced through the implications, the fallout, the way my parents would react. They were powerful, traditional, and protective of the Tanner name. Bringing Peyton into our family wouldn't be a simple matter—it would be a declaration of war against Lucas Hamilton.
James looked at me, his expression unreadable, but I could sense the tension in his voice when he spoke. "Karl, you know your parents will retaliate. They'll fight this. Lucas is one thing, but going against your own family… are you sure you're ready for that?"
"I'm not sure of anything anymore," I admitted, feeling a rare wave of uncertainty wash over me. It wasn't something I was used to. I was a man who always knew what I wanted, who made decisions with precision and confidence. But this… this was different. Peyton was different. And so was what I felt for her.
Still, there was one thing I knew for certain. I couldn't let Lucas get his hands on her again. Not after what he'd done. Not after what I'd seen in her eyes when she first opened them and saw her parents—relief, pain, and something else, something I couldn't quite name but understood all too well.
"I won't let him hurt her again," I said, more to myself than to James. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe."
James nodded slowly, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. "And what about Peyton? Have you considered what she wants? Bringing her into your world… it's not just about protecting her. It's about giving her a life she can live, one where she's not just trading one prison for another."
His words hit me harder than I expected. James was right. Peyton had already been through hell. She deserved a life where she could be free, not just safe. But how could I offer her that when Lucas was still out there, still a threat?
The answer came to me in a flash of clarity, an idea so absurd it almost made me laugh. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. There was one way to protect her, to ensure that no one—not Lucas, not my parents, not anyone—could touch her.
"I'll marry her," I said, the words hanging in the air between us.
James stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "You'll what?"
"It's the only way," I insisted, feeling the certainty settle in my gut. "If she's my wife, she's under my protection. My parents may not like it, but they'll accept it. The Tanners value family above all else. And Lucas… he won't be able to touch her. Not without declaring outright war on us. And he's not foolish enough to do that."
James shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and concern on his face. "Karl, marriage isn't just a strategy. It's a commitment. Are you ready for that? Because Peyton… she's been through enough. She doesn't need to be part of some power play. She needs someone who actually cares about her, who will help her heal."
"I do care about her," I said, surprised at how true the words felt. I barely knew Peyton, but in the short time she'd been under my care, she had managed to get under my skin in a way no one else ever had. Maybe it was the way she'd suffered, the strength she showed even in her silence, or the way she looked at the garden with such longing. Whatever it was, I knew I couldn't just walk away.
James was silent for a long moment before finally nodding. "If you're serious about this, then you need to be honest with her. No games, no lies. She's been through enough of that."
I nodded, knowing he was right. If I was going to do this, it had to be with Peyton's consent, with her understanding what it meant. This wasn't just about protecting her—it was about giving her the chance to rebuild her life, to start over in a way that was safe and secure.
But first, I needed to talk to her. I needed to make her see that this wasn't just another trap, that I wasn't another Lucas. And that, more than anything, scared the hell out of me.