Chapter 8
Ryan’s dependency on Moretti mattered.
Not financially.
Socially.
Before marrying Emily, he was respected.
After marrying my daughter, rooms changed.
Doors opened faster.
People listened longer.
Not because I ordered it.
Because proximity to me carried weight.
Ryan liked that more than he admitted.
When Emily began talking about spending more time at my estate during pregnancy, he heard something beneath it:
distance.
If she returned home too often, people might wonder whether the marriage was weak.
Weak marriage meant weakened status.
Again, no grand conspiracy.
Just pride.
He began policing appearances.
Attend together.
Leave together.
Smile.
Stay until the end.
Emily’s independence became dangerous partly because public perception had started feeding Ryan’s identity.
That explained why he grabbed her at events more often.
Not harder.
More urgently.
He needed the image preserved.
Linda reinforced it.
“A wife walks out beside her husband.”
“Arguments stay home.”
“Don’t embarrass him.”
Emily absorbed the same lesson from both.
I hated discovering how ordinary the language was.
No villain speech.
Just rules people repeat because they sound respectable.
I called Ryan once.
Only once.
Emily approved.
He answered immediately.
“Sir.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Silence.
Then I said:
“You will not contact Emily unless she invites it.”
He swallowed.
“Can I see the baby when—”
“Ask Emily when the time comes.”
Not me.
Important.
He sounded shocked.
As if being the father automatically gave him a conversation with the grandfather.
No.
Emily would decide what contact felt safe.
May you like
I was not replacing her authority with mine.
That would be another cage with nicer furniture.
