Page 42 of Checks & Bonds

I traced the edges of the frame with my thumb, lost in thought. Could I have liked this version of Henry? The one so full of life that even his eyes seemed to dance with excitement? It was hard to reconcile this image with the Henry I knew now—a man burdened by responsibilities and weighed down by expectations.

As I stared at the picture, I felt a strange pang of longing for something that might have been. What had happened to change him so drastically? Was it simply the passage of time, or had something specific stolen that joy from him?

The boy in the photograph looked so happy, so unburdened. It made me wonder if there was still a part of him like that hidden beneath his stern exterior. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Henry than I had seen so far.

“What are you doing here?”

The low voice startled me, causing the picture to slip from my fingers. It clattered onto the desk, the sound sharp and jarring in the otherwise quiet room. My heart jumped into my throat as I looked up to find Henry standing in the doorway.

He looked furious. His normally composed face was a storm of emotions, brows drawn tight over piercing eyes that seemed to bore straight into my soul. His jaw was clenched, the muscles twitching as if barely containing his anger. Even his posture radiated tension, shoulders squared and fists clenched at his sides.

“What… are you… doing here?” he repeated, stepping further into the room. Each step felt like it was squeezing the air out of the room, making it harder for me to breathe.

“I—I was just looking around,” I stammered, my voice sounding small and shaky. My eyes darted back to the photograph on the desk, but I didn’t dare reach for it again.

“This is my grandfather’s office,” he said, his tone icy. “I specifically said you couldn't be in the west wing."

“I didn’t mean any harm,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing panic inside me. “I was just curious.”

Henry’s eyes flicked to the picture frame I had dropped, then back to me. His expression softened for a brief moment as he seemed to consider something, but then his anger returned full force.

“Curiosity isn’t an excuse for invading someone’s privacy,” he snapped. “Especially not here.”

I felt a flush of shame creeping up my neck and cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say.

He took another step closer, closing the distance between us until he was standing right in front of me. The heat from his body seemed to envelop me, adding to the suffocating feeling that had taken hold.

“You should be,” he said quietly, but there was no mistaking the intensity behind his words. “This place holds memories and responsibilities you can’t even begin to understand.”

I swallowed hard, unable to tear my eyes away from his gaze. In that moment, I realized just how deeply rooted Henry’s connection to this manor—and its history—really was.

I looked away, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over me. The intensity of Henry's gaze was unbearable, and I shifted my feet, hoping to escape it.

“Did Carmen not tell you?” His voice cut through the silence like a knife. His eyes bore into me, making it impossible to move.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I closed it again, gathering my thoughts. “She did,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. The last thing I wanted was to get Carmen in trouble for my curiosity.

“And you decided to ignore her?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with incredulity.

“I…” Words failed me again as I struggled to explain myself.

“Of course you did.” He laughed, but it was a hollow, joyless sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

Fear tightened its grip on me. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears. I needed to get out of here, away from his anger and the suffocating atmosphere of the room.

“I’ll just… I’ll go,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I moved toward the door, hoping he would let me pass without further confrontation.

But as I attempted to slip by him, Henry's hand shot out and grabbed my arm with a vise-like grip. Before I could react, he shoved me against the wall. The impact stole my breath away, leaving me gasping for air.

“No,” he said firmly. “No, you will not.”

My heart pounded as Henry pressed me against the wall, his thigh wedging between my legs, effectively trapping me. His hand clamped around my wrist, pinning it above my head. I tried to squirm free, but his grip was ironclad.

“What are you doing?” I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You have been ignored for so long, Freya,” he replied, his voice low and menacing. “Quite frankly, I tire of your insolence. I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

Fear surged through me as he yanked at my pajama pants, letting them fall in a heap around my ankles. I struggled against him, desperate to escape, but he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

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