Elena’s POV
I burst into my father’s room, not caring if he was asleep by now. I didn’t care that I was half-drunk and that my arm was covered in blood. I didn’t care about any of it.
“Why would you do this to me?” I blurted out.
My father sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Natasha shot up beside him and turned on her bedside lamp. She clutched the blankets to her chest. “What are you doing in here?!”
I ignored her and walked over to my father’s side of the bed. Tears blurred my vision. “You arranged a marriage?” I bit out through clenched teeth. “With Mason? Behind my back?”
“Samson, this is ridiculous. She can’t just barge into our room—”
“It’s alright, Natasha.” My father threw the covers off of himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s talk in private, Elena.”
“Gladly.” I was already moving to his study.
A few minutes later, my father walked into the room, tying his robe around himself. His hair was still mussed from sleep, and his reading glasses were slightly askew on his face from being hastily put on.
“Tea?” he asked, crossing over to the small drink station at the side of the room.
My jaw clenched, and I did something I had never done before. I stormed over to my father and slapped his hand away from the electric kettle. “To hell with your fucking tea.”
My father stared at me for a long moment in complete shock, but I didn’t back down. Finally, he sighed and sat in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. “I was only trying to help you, Elena.”


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