Reborn Embrace: Taming the Possessive Tycoon

Chandler snatched the phone from the nightstand, his thumb swiping across the screen. The shift in his demeanor was instantaneous. The cold disdain he reserved for her was replaced by the clipped, commanding tone of a CEO. "Speak." The voice on the other end was low and professional, but Carolyn's ears, now attuned to every threat, picked it up clearly. It was her security detail. "Sir, there's a situation with Ms. Stewart. She's refusing her meals. Her emotional state is... unstable." Stewart. The name was a venomous dart, piercing the fragile hope that had begun to form in her chest. Eugenia Stewart. In her past life, a single cough from Eugenia was a siren call he could never ignore. A fabricated headache was a national emergency. Chandler's jaw tightened. He turned his back to Carolyn, his voice dropping lower, a deep rumble of concern. "I'm on my way." He ended the call without a goodbye. He strode toward the massive walk-in closet, his movements sharp, efficient, and utterly devoid of any consideration for the woman he was leaving behind. He didn't even glance at her. A frigid wave washed over Carolyn, so intense it felt like being plunged into an icy lake. She threw back the covers and her bare feet hit the cold marble floor, the shock of it shooting straight up her spine. She scrambled out of bed and rushed into the closet. He was already shrugging on a crisp, white dress shirt, his fingers working the buttons with practiced speed. He was in a hurry. For Eugenia. "Don't go." The words came out small and tight. She stood in the doorway, her hands gripping the frame so hard her knuckles turned white. Chandler's fingers paused for a fraction of a second on a button before resuming their task. He didn't acknowledge her. She bit her lip, the sharp pain grounding her. The taste of blood filled her mouth. She surged forward, her hands closing over his, stopping his methodical progress. His skin was warm beneath her cold palms. His gaze dropped to their joined hands, then lifted to her face. His eyes were glacial. "Let go," he commanded. The words were flat, empty of all emotion. He could have been speaking to a stranger who had bumped into him on the street. Carolyn held on, her grip desperate. She tilted her head back, forcing herself to meet his impatient glare. "Eugenia is acting. She's not that fragile." The air in the closet crackled. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. In a movement too fast to track, he twisted his hand, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. His grip was like a steel manacle, the pressure making her wince. "What right do you have to talk about her?" he snarled, backing her up until her shoulders hit the cold, hard wall. He leaned in, his face inches from hers. "Don't forget, every breath you take in this city is a privilege I allow." Pain shot up her arm, but the ache in her chest was a thousand times worse. He wouldn't believe her. In her past life, she had screamed, cried, and presented evidence of Eugenia's lies, and he had never, ever believed her. She looked at the beautiful, cruel man in front of her, the man who held her family's fate and her own life in his hands. A wave of desolate resolve washed over her. Suddenly, all the fight drained out of her. She relaxed her hand, her body going limp against the wall. She slid down a few inches, her strength completely gone. Her sudden surrender seemed to surprise him. He froze, his hand still locked around her wrist, his body still pinning her to the wall. Carolyn let her head fall forward, her hair hiding her face. Her voice was a bare whisper, so quiet it was almost carried away by the air. "Do you really think she can keep you chained to her with that little bit of 'gratitude' forever?" The question hit him like a physical blow. She felt his body jolt. His grip on her wrist tightened for a painful second before he abruptly let go, snatching his hand back as if she had burned him. He took a staggering step back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "You'll never be worth a single strand of her hair." He spat the words at her, each one a shard of glass. Then he turned and walked out of the closet, out of the bedroom. She heard the front door of the penthouse open, then close with a soft, final click. The sound of the private elevator whirring to life followed. He was gone. Without a moment's hesitation. Carolyn sat on the cold floor of his closet, surrounded by his scent, his clothes, his world. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears back. Crying was useless. She had shed an ocean of tears in her last life, and all it had done was drown her. She had to be smarter this time. Fighting him head-on only pushed him further into Eugenia's arms. She had to work from the inside. She had to become the one thing he couldn't get rid of. She pushed herself to her feet, her legs unsteady. Her gaze landed on the vanity in the bedroom. Specifically, on the single locked drawer. The drawer she had refused to open, the contents of which she had thrown in his face the day he brought her here. The drawer that held the contract that bound her to him.