Chapter 40
Chapter 40:
But they kept circling her like vultures, never giving her peace.
Once, she’d believed that she belonged to them too.
Did all those years mean nothing simply because they didn’t share blood? Did their hatred really run this deep just because she’d unknowingly lived as the Morgan daughter for seventeen years?
Even after she returned the name and asked for nothing in return, they still refused to let her be.
Maia had endured four years behind bars — every cruel, soul-numbing moment.
She’d trained herself not to feel.
But something in her cracked open tonight. Bitterness surged up her throat.
She swallowed it down.
When her gaze lifted again, it was cold enough to burn.
“The way I live — none of your concern. You, the Morgan family — none of you matter anymore,” Maia said, her voice level and unshaken. “Let me be clear. My name is Maia Watson p>
Jarrod’s eyes ignited, fury flashing red-hot.
Wasn’t the Morgan name more than enough for her? Hadn’t they treated her better than those dead nobodies who birthed her had done?
His voice trembled with rage. “Maia, I’m giving you a chance — out of pity. You should be grateful p>
Her mouth curved into a slow, scathing smile. “Pity? But look at the way you’re clinging to me. That’s the real pity p>
Jarrod’s face contorted, the anger boiling over until it nearly consumed him. His stare could’ve scorched the air.
A dry laugh burst from him before he snatched a bottle of whiskey off the table and slammed it down in front of her. His tone dropped to ice. “The Morgans raised you for seventeen years. You want out? Fine. Chug this. Right now. We’re done. You do that, and I’ll never touch your life again p>
Maia glanced down at the bottle.
It was the strong kind — the kind that burned going down. Just a mouthful would wreck most people. Gulping it? Suicide.
Jarrod was sure that she’d break, that she’d flinch, freeze, or show the first crack of fear. After all, the old Maia couldn’t even sip a cocktail.
He could still picture that night she’d confused vodka for water and spent hours clinging to the toilet. Completely wrecked.
Since then, she wouldn’t touch the stuff.
Back then, if she ever annoyed him, Jarrod would tease, “Say one more word and I’ll swap your water for booze p>
She’d always fall silent, covering her mouth as if he’d threatened to poison her. And now? That bottle in front of her might as well have been laced with death.
When she dropped her eyes, silent, Jarrod’s sneer deepened.
“Afraid? Just admit it. You grew up soft under the Morgans. You think you can make it out here without even knowing how to hold your liquor? The first guy who flirts with you will ruin you p>
The wealthy boys surrounding him nodded in agreement, their voices overlapping. “Jarrod’s looking out for you. The Morgans don’t owe you a thing. He’s giving you this chance out of goodwill and shared history. Stop being stubborn. Go back. Be a Morgan again p>
Goodwill and shared history?
Maia nearly laughed.