Forced To Marry The Heiress (GL)

Chapter 16: The First Time Asteria Choose For Herself

William stood from his seat. He waited, his eyes fixed on his daughter, his posture rigid and demanding.

He expected her to approach him—to bow, to curtsy, to show the proper respect that a daughter owed her father.

That was how things worked in the Auclair household.

Asteria obeyed.

Asteria submitted. freewebnovel.cσ๓

Asteria knew her place.

Asteria lowered her gaze as her steps toward her father was hesitant and heavy. Her smile, so fragile and tentative just moments ago, immediately faded from her lips.

Her shoulders curled inward, making herself smaller while trying to disappear. Faye noticed everything—the way Asteria’s hands began trembling at her sides, the way her breathing quickened, the way her feet slowed as if she was walking toward her execution instead of her family.

So Faye made a choice.

She gently pulled Asteria by the arm, steering her away from William’s expectant gaze, away from the Auclairs’ hungry eyes, and toward the opposite side of the room where Alfonso and Keres stood.

The two Eisenthurn women moved with purpose, their footsteps silent on the marble floor, and when they reached the seating area, Faye guided Asteria down onto the plush couch between where Alfonso and Keres would sit.

"Here," Faye said softly, her voice calm but firm. "Asteria is sitting with us."

Alfonso and Keres remained silent. They didn’t object. They didn’t question. They simply watched as Faye settled Asteria into the center of the couch, then took her own seat beside her daughter-in-law-to-be.

Alfonso sat on Faye’s other side, his large frame a wall of silent protection.

Keres remained standing for a moment longer, her eyes sweeping across the Auclairs, before she lowered herself into the seat beside Asteria.

Their shoulders were almost touching.

William stood frozen for a moment, his face flushing with poorly concealed fury. He had been dismissed—publicly, deliberately, in front of his entire family and the Eisenthurn servants.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but before he could speak, Alfonso’s cold voice cut through the tension.

"Have a seat, Mr. William."

It was not a request. It was a command, delivered with authority that came from decades of ruling an empire. Alfonso didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

William sat down.

His eyes, however, never left Asteria. They bored into her like drills, dissecting her, accusing her, promising punishment for later. Asteria kept her gaze lowered, her eyes fixed on her hands folded in her lap.

She could feel her father’s stare like a physical weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Faye reached over and held Asteria’s hand.

It was a small gesture—subtle, almost invisible—but it said everything. You are safe. You are with us. He cannot touch you here.

Keres noticed it too. She noticed the way William’s gaze threatened and dissected, the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched as if he was imagining his hands around Asteria’s throat.

Keres’s own jaw tightened, but she remained silent. For now.

"Mr. Auclair." Keres’s voice was steady, formal, cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. "I want to personally ask you for Asteria’s hand in marriage."

The words hung in the air.

William didn’t hesitate. "Denied."

The servants standing along the walls exchanged shocked glances. Even the most well-trained among them couldn’t hide their surprise.

To deny Keres Eisenthurn—Keres, who never asked for anything, who demanded and received—was unthinkable. But the Eisenthurns themselves were not surprised. They remained stoic, their faces unreadable, their postures relaxed.

They had expected this.

Alfonso leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on William with cold intensity.

"Mind telling us the reason why you have so much audacity to turn us down?"

William didn’t flinch. He looked directly at Keres, his expression serious, almost pitying. "Keres, you have to know her past." He gestured vaguely toward Asteria, who shrank further into the couch.

"She’s not good for you."

Keres sighed—a soft, irritated exhale. She didn’t interrupt. She waited for him to finish.

"She has already disgraced me," William continued, his voice rising slightly, "by having her three past husbands divorce her." He shook his head, his expression twisting with disgust.

"Three times, Ms. Keres. Three times she was sent back like damaged goods. I don’t want her to shame you or to shame me further."

He paused, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with opportunity. "Why don’t you pick another Auclair? My daughter, Hannah? Or Margaux?"

Emmaline shot up from her seat, her face contorted with outrage. "Dad?! You said it was me!" Her voice was shrill, demanding, completely inappropriate for the setting. "You promised! You said I would be the one!"

William didn’t even look at her. "Sit down, Emmaline."

"But—" freewebnøvel.coɱ

"Sit. Down."

Emmaline’s face flushed crimson. She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it and threw herself back into her couch, crossing her arms like a child who had been denied dessert.

Keres watched the exchange with cold detachment. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but cutting. "I’m sorry, Mr. Auclair. I don’t like your offer." She paused, letting the words settle.

"And how is it so easy for you to treat your daughters like nothing but whores? Offering them like merchandise at a market?"

William’s face tightened. The insult landed, but he kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t afford to antagonize the Eisenthurns—not yet, not when he still had a chance to salvage something from this disaster.

Keres continued, her voice unwavering. "And I don’t mind Asteria’s past. We all have our own pasts. Yours included, Mr. Auclair."

William’s eye twitched. He didn’t like the implication that his own history might be examined, but he pressed on. "But, Ms. Keres, believe me." His voice dropped, becoming almost conspiratorial.

"She is a jinx. A curse. She will bring nothing but misfortune to you and your family. I’ve seen it with my own eyes."

"Enough!"

Keres’s voice cracked through the room like thunder. Every person in the room froze—even the servants, even Alfonso, who raised one eyebrow at his daughter’s outburst.

Then Keres did something that surprised everyone, including herself. She reached over and took Asteria’s hand.

Her fingers wrapped around Asteria’s cold, trembling ones, holding firmly, securely, like an anchor in a storm.

Asteria’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened, and she turned to look at Keres, but Keres wasn’t looking at her. Keres’s gaze was fixed on William, cold and unyielding, her jaw set with determination.

"Asking you for your blessing isn’t necessary anyway," Keres said, her voice low and dangerous. "This is just for goddamn formality." She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in.

"You disrespect her, you’re disrespecting me and our family name. The Eisenthurn name."

The room was silent. No one moved. No one breathed.

Asteria’s eyes were still wide, still fixed on Keres’s profile. This was the first time someone had protected her so fiercely. The first time someone had stood between her and her father and said enough.

She didn’t know why, but she was feeling something she hadn’t felt her whole life—comfort. Safety. The way Keres’s hand held hers felt like an anchor in a raging storm, something solid to cling to when everything else was chaos.

But Asteria never dared hope. She had learned long ago that hope was a trap. She knew, deep in her bruised and battered heart, that she didn’t deserve to believe that Keres was serious. This was duty. Obligation. Nothing more.

"Leave."

Keres’s voice was flat, final. Not a request. A command.

William’s face contorted with rage. "Fine!" He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "We’re leaving." He turned his glare toward Asteria, his voice barking like a whip. "Asteria, let’s go!"

It was instinct. Years of conditioning, years of training, years of pain had taught Asteria to obey that voice without thought. She stood immediately, her body moving before her mind could catch up, her hand slipping free from Keres’s grasp.

She took one step toward her father, then another, her gaze lowered, her shoulders hunched.

But Faye’s hand shot out and grabbed Asteria’s wrist. At the same moment, Keres reached for her other hand.

They pulled her back—gently but firmly—and guided her down onto the couch again, settling her between them like a treasure they refused to surrender.

"No!" Faye’s voice was sharp, her eyes blazing with a fury that matched her husband’s. "She’s not going with you or anyone in your family!"

William’s face purpled with rage. "She is my daughter! I am her father! She only obeys me!" He took a step forward, his hands clenched into fists, his entire body trembling with the effort of not lunging.

Vilma hurried to her husband’s side, her hand on his arm, her voice low and urgent. "Darling." She whispered, her eyes darting toward the Eisenthurn guards who had begun to move closer.

"This is the Eisenthurn family’s territory. Please, think—"

"I don’t care!" William shook her off, his eyes still fixed on Asteria. "She’s coming with me!"

"She is an adult!" Keres rose from her seat, her voice rising to match his. "She is capable of making her own decisions!"

The tension was thick enough to choke on. The atmosphere was heavy, suffocating, the air crackling with barely contained violence.

Asteria was trying so hard not to cry, but her heart was pounding so loudly between her ribs that she could hear it in her ears. Her hands were shaking. Her lips were trembling. She felt like she was going to shatter.

"Then let her choose!" William threw his arm out, pointing at Asteria. "Asteria! Choose!" His voice was a roar, echoing off the walls.

"These people or your family?!"

Asteria didn’t know what to do.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, hot and unstoppable. She looked at her father—at the man who had beaten her, broken her, treated her like less than an animal.

Then she looked at Keres—at the woman who had held her hand, who had called her beautiful, who had stood between her and her father’s rage.

She was conflicted. The safety and comfort that the Eisenthurns were providing pulled her one way. The years of conditioning, of obedience, of terror pulled her the other.

She raised her gaze and looked at Keres.

"I’m sorry," she whispered.

Keres’s face went still. Faye’s grip tightened on her hand. Alfonso’s expression flickered.

Then Asteria turned to look at her father.

"I’m choosing Keres."

The words came out soft but steady. She didn’t shout. She didn’t raise her voice. She simply stated her choice, as if she was surprised to hear herself say it.

"I’m sorry, Papa."

William screamed.

It was a sound of pure, unfiltered rage—the roar of a man who had been defied for the first time in his life. He lunged forward, his arm raised, his hand already forming a fist aimed at his daughter’s face.

Faye screamed. She pulled Asteria behind her, wrapping her body around the younger woman like a shield.

Vilma, Marco, Margaux, and Hannah rushed forward to hold William back, their hands grabbing his arms, his shoulders, his chest. Emmaline sat in her chair, rolling her eyes in irritation.

Frank stayed where he was, leaning against the wall, watching the chaos with detached amusement.

And Keres moved.

Her hand went to her waist, where her gun was holstered beneath her vest. She drew it in one fluid motion—smooth, practiced, deadly—and fired.

The crack of the gunshot echoed through the room like thunder.

William collapsed, a scream tearing from his throat as he clutched his thigh. Blood poured between his fingers, dark and thick, pooling on the marble floor.

Vilma screamed. Margaux shrieked. Hannah stumbled backward, her face pale. Marco stood frozen, his eyes wide.

But Keres didn’t flinch. She stood over William, the gun still raised, her face cold and expressionless.

"We invited you to our home," Keres said, her voice low and steady, each word deliberate. "We welcomed you. And now you’re trying to make a scene and hurt a future Eisenthurn." She paused, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. "That is not acceptable."

She stepped closer, the barrel of the gun now pointed at William’s face. He looked up at her, his face pale with pain and fear, his mouth open but no words coming out.

"Leave this place," Keres said. "Because if you try this next time, there will be no next time, Mr. Auclair." Her eyes were ice. "Mark my word."

Everyone was shocked. Everyone except Alfonso, who watched his daughter with something that looked almost like pride.

Keres straightened and tucked her gun back into its holster. She raised her voice, calling out to the guards who had gathered at the edges of the room.

"Guards! Take these people away from us. Make sure to take him to the hospital." She glanced down at William, who was still bleeding on her mother’s floor.

"And also, if he wants to file a lawsuit, tell him to talk to my lawyer. Or better yet—see me in court. We’ll find out who ends up in jail."

She turned away from him, dismissing him as if he were nothing.

Then she looked at Asteria.

Asteria was still half-hidden behind Faye, her face pale, her eyes wide, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She was shaking—her whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm. But she wasn’t hurt.

Faye had protected her.

Keres stepped forward and gently placed her hand on Asteria’s waist, her touch surprisingly soft.

"Come on," she said quietly, guiding Asteria away from the chaos, away from the blood, away from the screaming and the shouting.

Asteria let herself be led. She didn’t have the strength to resist.

Alfonso stood and wrapped his arm around Faye’s waist, pulling her close too.

"Come on, love," he whispered, his voice gentle now, meant only for her. "Let’s go."

Faye nodded, still shaking from the sound of the gun. But with her husband beside her, she felt safe. She always felt safe with him.

The Eisenthurns left the scene, walking away from the bleeding, screaming Auclairs without a backward glance. The guards moved in, efficient and silent, lifting William off the floor and herding the rest of the family toward the doors.