Page 109 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir

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The moment slices between us, clean and bright. A blade landing right between her ribs.

She doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t yell.

She just watches me. Still as glass.

That hurts more than if she’d hit me again.

I keep my voice steady. Flat. Iron-wrapped.

“I accepted the mission so I could bury it.”

Her throat moves. Swallowing the thing she’s too careful to say.

“They fed me a dossier full of half-truths,” I continue. “Redacted histories. Tactile photos. Threat assessments that read more like propaganda than fact. You were labeled a breach point. A liability. They said you’d been in contact with exiled networks.”

“I haven’t,” she says quietly. Then louder: “Ihaven’t.”

“I know.”

She steps back, only once. Like her feet made the choice before her mind caught up.

I don’t follow.

I hold the space open.

“Dowron signed the order himself,” I add. “Framed it as contingency—said if you ever stepped out of line, I’d be activated as a dead-switch asset.”

Her expression fractures, just slightly. “Dead-switch?”

I nod. “Meaning I don’t get to live through it either.”

A pause.

Then she laughs.

It’s not joy.

It’s not relief.

It’s a sound full of jagged edges.

“So you’re telling me,” she says, “they pulled you out of a blacksite just to hand you a kill order with my name on it?”

“Yes.”

“And you… what? Said sure, sounds like fun?”

I don’t flinch.

“I said yes. So I could control it. So I could stop it.”

“Stop it,” she echoes, like the phrase is foreign on her tongue. “You mean override it.”

“Burn it from the inside.”

Her arms are wrapped tight now, like if she lets go they’ll shake too visibly.

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