Chapter 5

Donavan looked at the beautifully wrapped gifts on the coffee table, then at the three women who had presented them. Their faces were etched with a practiced sincerity that made his stomach turn.

"I don't want them," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

Kortney's smile faltered. "Donny, please. It's just a small gesture. We feel terrible about how we acted."

"I am not interested in your gestures, or your feelings," Donavan stated, turning to leave the room. "I'm tired. I'm going to rest."

He was weary of the games, of the constant emotional manipulation. He just wanted them gone.

As he turned, his hand brushed against his pocket. The heavy, cold platinum cufflink from the Cains slipped out and fell onto the thick Persian rug with a soft thud.

It was an insignificant sound, but in the tense silence of the room, it was a thunderclap.

Three pairs of eyes immediately darted to the object on the floor. Danielle, ever the quickest, bent down and picked it up.

"What's this?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion as she examined the stylized 'C'. "I've never seen this design before."

Donavan snatched it from her hand, his movement quick and sharp. "It's nothing."

His fierce reaction only heightened their alarm.

"That's not from our families," Jinnie stated, her brow furrowed. "Who is it from, Donavan?"

"Is this why you've been so cold to us?" Kortney demanded, stepping closer. "Have you chosen someone else?"

Their fear was palpable. It wasn't the fear of a lover scorned. It was the fear of a chess player about to lose their most powerful piece. They were terrified of losing their access to the Pittman shield, the one thing that allowed them to keep their precious Jeb on his pedestal.

"And what if I have?" Donavan asked, a cruel edge to his voice. He watched their faces pale, a grim satisfaction twisting inside him.

"You can't!" Kortney burst out. "The Pittman heir has to marry from one of our families! It's tradition! It's the way it's always been!"

"You have to choose one of us," Danielle insisted, her voice tight. "Give us an answer, Donavan. Now."

He looked at them, at their entitlement, their absolute certainty that he belonged to them, that his life was a commodity to be used for their purposes. In his first life, he had accepted this. He had thought it was love. Now, he saw it for what it was: ownership.

He held up the platinum cufflink. "This," he said slowly, "is a family sigil. It represents a marriage alliance."

He watched the flicker of hope in their eyes, the desperate assumption that it must be a new design from one of their families, a secret gift.

"But," he continued, letting the word hang in the air, "it is not from the Masons. Not from the Petersons. And not from the Pierces."

They stared at him, their minds refusing to process the information.

"Oh, you bought yourself a new cufflink," Kortney said with a relieved laugh, her brain seizing on the most palatable explanation. "Donny, you scared us! It's beautiful. Let me see."

She took it from his unresisting hand and slid it onto his shirt cuff, her touch lingering. "It looks wonderful on you."

"We'll pay for it," Danielle offered, pulling out her platinum card. "A little gift, for giving us such a fright."

They began to fuss over him, adjusting his collar, admiring the cufflink, taking photos with their phones. They were celebrating. They had misinterpreted his words as a joke, a test of their affection. They believed he was still unchosen, still theirs for the taking.

The sheer absurdity of the scene made Donavan want to laugh, or scream, or both. He felt like a ghost at his own funeral, watching the mourners celebrate.

Just then, the door to the drawing-room opened, and Jeb limped in, a bright, cheerful smile on his face.

"What's all the excitement?" he asked, his eyes immediately landing on the gifts on the table. "Oh, presents! For me?"

The spell was broken. The three women instantly turned their full attention to Jeb, their faces lighting up with genuine affection.

"Of course not, silly," Kortney said, playfully tapping his nose. "These are for Donny."

"But," Danielle added with a conspiratorial wink, "since he doesn't want them..."

She picked up a box containing a limited-edition watch and handed it to Jeb. "Here. You take it."

Donavan watched as they showered Jeb with the gifts meant for him. He watched as Jeb feigned reluctance, then graciously accepted their offerings.

He had seen enough.

He turned and walked out of the room, leaving the four of them in their perfect, self-contained world. He went to his study and closed the door.

He slid the cold, platinum cufflink off his wrist. It was a promise of a different future. A future of cold, hard logic. A future without pain.

He would get used to it. He had to.