Page 92 of Hannah.

I shake my head, stiffening. “That’s not happening.”

“You’re not listening to me, Johan! Her father isn't being unreasonable. He just wants his daughter with a proper husband and for her to be happy. If you want your inheritance saved…you will do as I tell you. You will end things with Hannah and reconcile with Astrid. By this time next year, the two of you will be wed.”

I stagger backward like he’s just punched me in the gut. “Married? Married, Dad? I don't love Astrid, and you know that! Forget about it.”

Now Dad becomes somber once more as he pulls at the neckline of his shirt. The day is starting to heat up. “But she loves you, Johan. She loves you even though she also knows about Hannah.”

It’s another blow, but one I had been getting myself ready for since hearing Astrid's voicemail last night. “No, she doesn't.She loves the idea of me. Of how perfect we are together on paper. Even if she's willing to marry me now, when the shock of everything has worn off, she's going to want someone who truly loves her. Not me. This will devastate us both in time. Two families fucking their children over because of money.” I shake my head at the whole gibberish I’m hearing. “You guys are all crazy!”

“Language, Johan. And you’re not seeing the big picture here. This is bigger than you, or her, or Hannah, or me. This is the family legacy, what your children will inherit. This is about their future, too.”

“Their future?” I laugh bitterly. “You’re more worried about the future of non-existent people than mine! Don’t you see that?” I ask louder, facing him fully. “You’re takingmyfuture away from me right now. I’m not marrying Astrid. I refuse.”

Dad’s voice grows cold and stern, reminiscent of the one he used when I was a child and had displeased him. “Refusing is not an option. Listen to me—accept this now, or things will swiftly get a lot uglier.”

“How so? You'll disown me? Take everything away? I'll find a way to make it work without your help.”

His expression turns sad, and I watch the lines on his face grow deeper. “Johan, please. Do as I say. End things with Hannah. I know you care for her, but sometimes, sacrifices have to be made for the sake of the greater good. And sometimes, our future isn’t what we expect.”

“I said no. I refuse. This is a mistake thatyoumade and one thatyouare going to have to fix. If I have to live off nothing but my own income, then so be it. But I’m not going to be forced into a loveless marriage that will always be tainted by this manipulation you and Astrid's dad are trying to force on me.”

Dad shakes his head but doesn't press. His jaw twitches, and I can see his anger bubbling up. I can’t remember a single timethat he’s ever been so upset with me. But this is my life, dammit, and he’s treating it like a game. Like my feelings don’t matter, or like he thinks I'll change my mind.

Well, I’m not about to.

“You can't make me do this, Dad. I’m sorry.”

His next words are so impactful that they feel like the tolling of church bells–a signal to mourn. “If you won’t think about your future, maybe you'll consider Hannah’s.”

The words are cryptic, and a cold chill runs down my spine. There is a creeping sense of oncoming dread, but I can't figure out why just yet. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He straightens, squaring his shoulders, and folds his arms over his chest. “If you aren't going to set her aside on your own, then I’m afraid the Goschens and I will. After all, I wouldn't want my son with a thief.”

I blink, certain that I’ve misheard. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. We know all about the two artifacts that Hannah so casually plucked from the displays at the exhibitions. Artifacts that are owned by, and very precious to, Cambridge University. It’d be simple for any of us to take that information to the dean, and Hannah would quickly be expelled. Is that what you want for her, son?”

The world tips sideways, and I have to put my hand down on the edge of the fountain again to steady myself. “How...how did you––”

“Like I said. Sacrifices have to be made. Sometimes, even for the people we care about. I’ve given you a chance to do this on your own. Now, let me give you a piece of advice.”

“I don't want it.”

He ignores me. “It’s time to grow up. You will love Astrid in time. But you have to be a man about this. If you tell Hannah yourself, she's less likely to hate you. If this news comes from someone else? Well, that's something you'll have to contendwith. If Hannah makes a huge public deal about the split, then we might have no choice but to reveal her…mistakes to save your and Astrid’s reputation.”

“This is blackmail, Dad. You’re blackmailing me into ending things with her!”

Dad’s gaze is steady, but there’s a sadness in his eyes. “I’m helping you do the right thing. Whether you like it or not.”

I stagger backward, a wicked headache blooming in my skull as I press the heel of my hand against my forehead. I think of those damned artifacts, wrapped in cloth in my bedside table drawer, waiting for the moment I figure out how to return them without drawing any sort of suspicion. “How in the hell did you find out about this?”

“Astrid knew about Hannah’s thefts and told her father.” His tone turns sour. “And he dangled it over my head the moment Astrid found out about your time together.”

I can't think of anything other than the fact that Astrid's name keeps cropping up, and I can feel my rage toward her begin to build. “So Hannah is a pawn in all this, too. I can't believe this.”

“That is precisely why we can't have this continue, Johan. If you don't want those thefts traced back to her, it's in all our best interests if it ends now.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat, pressing my hand even harder against my forehead, trying to ease the oncoming ache. “She’s…she's not a bad person, Dad. Hannah didn't take those things for money or for the thrill of it. She has a mental issue. An illness.”

---