Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 20

The Breeder

I ’m trembling slightly as I push Will toward the sterile white door with “Dr. Alan Hargrove” etched in sleek, black letters. It’s a stark contrast to the cluttered world outside, where Christmas decorations are sprouting like wildflowers.

“Chin up, Caro,” Willow says, her voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. “We’ve got this, right?”

“Right,” I echo, though my stomach knots tighter. We’re here for her, but it feels like I’m the one unraveling.

As I knock on the door, I ponder how Willow always seems to be in such good spirits. It’s untouchable, unlike mine that feels like I’m lost at sea. I need to toughen up, to stop being so obsessed about her getting better.

Really, who am I to decide what ‘better’ is? If she’s not complaining, I have no right to.

The door opens, and I glance up at Dr. Alan Hargrove. “Hello again, Carolina.” His silver hair crowns his head like a halo of wisdom, and his eyes are sharp as a hawk’s. “And you must be the reason we’re all here,” he says to Will, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Nice to see you again, Dr. Hargrove,” I say, my throat tight.

“Hi there, Dr. Hargrove. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” She greets him with the enthusiasm of someone who sees life as a glass perpetually full.

As he waves us into the room behind him, he says, “Please call me Alan.”

In the adjoining examination room, I position the wheelchair so Will can move from her wheelchair and onto the examination bed.

The doctor’s practiced hands are gentle as he checks my sister’s reflexes. The tests unfold like a well-rehearsed play; a tap of the hammer here, a brush of fingertips there, each movement meticulous and measured. I watch, barely breathing, as Dr. Hargrove conducts a symphony of neurological assessments, from checking pupil dilation to testing muscle strength.

“Everything okay?” Will asks, catching the furrow in my brow. “I mean, I’m still paralyzed, right? Or can I suddenly walk on water?”

Dr. Har—Alan—laughs softly to himself before telling us he’s done, and suggesting we sit down in his office to talk. He disappears to get us some drinks, and while he’s gone, I help her back into the wheelchair, not that she needs my help. This is more for me, so I have something to do.

“I’m sure everything’s perfect,” I lie, my voice barely above a whisper. My heart yearns to believe it, even as it dreads the uncertainty.

“You always were a bad liar,” she sing-songs. “But sure, sure. Perfect would be nice for a change.”

While we wait for Alan to return, I ask my sister about Ruby. “Are the two of you still hanging out?” I ask, absentmindedly scratching my nose with my left hand.

“Wow!” she exclaims. “Hold on a fucking second, Caro. Why are you asking me about Ruby when you’re carrying that diamond around?”

Shit, I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t even know how to explain everything to her. Or more accurately, I don’t know where to start.

“Does this mean you’re not just dating Ruby’s brother?” she probes.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I guess I’m engaged to him.”

Will scrunches up her nose. “You’re engaged to a man I haven’t met? How can that be when he doesn’t have my approval?”

I burst out laughing at the forced disapproval in her voice. “Sorry,” I laugh. “I’ll make sure to rectify that as soon as possible.”

Before we can say anything, Alan returns with three cups of steaming hot chocolate placed on a black tray. The scent luckily drowns out the clinical smell in here, making it less intimidating.

“Okay, should we dive right in?” he asks, looking straight at her.

“Let’s do it,” she agrees.

“Unfortunately,” Dr. Hargrove begins with a sigh, “there have been no advancements in treatment that would improve your current condition, Willow.”

I feel the sting of tears threatening to spill, but I blink them away furiously. It’s not the news we hoped for, but it’s the news we expected—somewhere deep down, at least. Willow, bless her, just nods with an accepting smile.

“Thank you for checking.” Her voice is steady, but it’s the slight tremor in her grip that betrays her disappointment.

“However,” he continues, shifting his gaze between us, “as I told Carolina yesterday, there is a top-notch care facility here in New York City that you might consider. They specialize in patients with spinal injuries and offer state-of-the-art therapies that can significantly improve quality of life. They even have the option to live there with other patients if you want.”

Will gapes. “Do you mean NREC? Oh my God, you totally do, don’t you?”

He laughs good naturedly. “Yes, I’m talking about the NeuroRehab Excellence Center. I take it you have heard about it.”

My sister practically bounces in her wheelchair. “Have I? I mean, yes, yes I have. It’s like Neverland, a mythical place unless you have a butt load of money.”

Alan laughs harder, even slapping his stomach. “That’s the place. Your sister’s fiancé was very insistent, so I’ve pulled some strings. There’s a spot open for you if you want it.”

Before Will can answer, I inject. “Umm, if this is something you’d rather take your time to—”

“No way,” she almost shouts. “There’s nothing to think about. That place is the dream. If I can get a spot there, I’ll take it.”

“Fantastic,” Alan says.

Then she looks up at me, the light dimming slightly in her eyes. “I mean, can we afford it?”

“The spot we’re holding for you is part of a program that helps those who need it. All your expenses will be taken care of,” Alan lies smoothly.

Before I left this morning, I made Nick call ahead to make sure Will never finds out we’re paying for her spot. Not that she isn’t worth it, but I know my sister well enough to know she’d feel extremely uncomfortable. And now, since she seems to know a lot about the place, I don’t regret that decision.

If the money wasn’t for Will, I’d never accept after learning how many zeroes are needed just to cover the monthly expenses. But… for my sister, I’ll swallow my pride.

“Actually, I’m headed over there within the hour. Would you like to come with me?” Alan asks her.

“Yes!” She fist pumps the air and smiles widely.

“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask.

To my surprise, she shakes her head. “No. If it’s okay with you, I want to go by myself. But I’ll totally call you later.”

Hours after saying goodbye to Will and Alan, I’m back in Nick’s apartment, sitting alone in the spacious living room. After checking my phone every minute for updates from my sister, I retrieved Sienna’s diary, needing to know more about this family I’ve apparently agreed to marry into.

I still don’t know how I feel about that.

Overwhelmed, confused, dizzy—like the earth is spinning too fast on its axis, and I’m just expected to keep up with it. But what’s more is that I think I want to. I like what I have with Nick, and even though I probably shouldn’t, I feel safe with him.

It’s more than that, though. It’s like every minute with him is an exciting exploration, a test of wills and strength. Despite not having any power of my own, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more capable or strong than I do with him.

I know it makes no sense that I accepted his proposal—his claim—when I don’t even know if I love him. Honestly, that’s part of the thrill.

They expect us to be broodmares, nothing more. I feel the weight of their gaze, ever-present, calculating my worth by my ability to produce an heir…

There’s no date on the first fifty entries or so. I guess that makes sense since it sounds like she was locked up. Caspian’s words from the family dinner echo in my head; Sienna was bought at some kind of twisted human auction. Yeah, of course she wouldn’t know the date, and depending on how long she was held captive, maybe not even the year.

Today it happened. I was bought like I was an item to be bid on rather than a person. My new owner’s name is Caspian, and he says I can call him that. The way he said it made it sound like a big deal, and I suppose it is. At the place they held us before the auction, they told us to never assume we were allowed to use our owner’s name. The expectations are clear: I’m here to be his wife and to provide heirs. The weight of that expectation is heavy. They say it’s vital for the family, for the legacy, but it feels like a lot to bear. What if I can’t fulfill that role? What if something goes wrong? I’m afraid that failing to meet these expectations might mean more than just disappointment…

Then, I finally get to an entry with a date, but no year. Did Caspian not tell her what year it was? Or did she simply not want to commemorate it in her diary?

July 10th Caspian seems to have a genuine interest in me, but can I trust that this is more than just a duty to him? The way he talks about the future, it’s as if there’s no room for personal connection or genuine affection—just an obligation to produce heirs and maintain the family line. I want to believe there’s more to this, that there can be warmth and understanding between us. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m trying to keep an open heart. I hope that, somehow, we can find a way to make this work—not just for the sake of the family legacy, but for ourselves.

July 30th Tonight, Caspian told me about his family, the burden of being a Knight. He introduced me to his family. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t for my owner’s dad to force his hand between my legs, wanting to feel my hymen for himself. I almost threw up when he did it right in front of Caspian’s mom, younger brothers, and… no, I won’t think about it. Caspian assured me it won’t ever happen again. We’re getting married tonight, in secret. Once I’m his, he says no one can ever touch me again.

I retch as I read that entry over and over, my stomach churning more and more violently every time my eyes pass over it. Christ, should I be happy Caspian didn’t do that to me when we had dinner with him only five days ago?

By now, the living room has become dark, but I’m too engrossed to get up and switch the light on. I grab my phone and use the flashlight app so I can continue reading.

August 5th When Caspian told me about what it means to be the head of the Knight Mafia, he made it sound like a burden. But as he brutally murdered someone right in front of me for stealing some weapons, he was reveling in it. He looked… happy. Oh, God, the horror didn’t stop there. He killed everyone; wiped out an entire family in a single night. And he dragged me along to witness it all.

November 17th Caspian laid his hands on me tonight. It’s the first time he’s touched me out of malice. It was my own fault! He’s told me over and over that nothing is more important than the family business. I knew that, and yet I dared question him when he came home late. I didn’t mean to make him angry, I was just so disappointed because I’d arranged for a special night for us. But… he’s right. I’m a stupid girl that needs to know my place. The Knight family comes first, always. We women are expendable.

September 5th Another miscarriage. The disappointment is suffocating. Caspian hardly looks at me now, his eyes always searching for something more, something I’m beginning to fear I cannot give. I flip back to the previous entry, trying to figure out if it’s the same year. Something tells me it isn’t, especially since she hasn’t mentioned other miscarriages or pregnancies. As I look closer, I notice papers have been ripped out, only leaving stumps in the spine.

December 24th It’s Christmas Eve, and instead of joy, there’s a silent demand hanging in the air. Three children for success—they say. My womb has become a battleground, and I am both the warrior and the territory fought over.

Again, papers are missing, so I don’t know if this is from the same year as the previous one about the miscarriage.

My heart clenches in sympathy, my trembling fingers running over the embossed initials on the cover as I close it. Sienna’s pain resonates with my own fears. I close my eyes, envisioning her—an elegant woman trapped in a golden cage, her body a vessel for the Knight legacy.

Her words echo in my mind, painting a vivid picture of life married into the Knight family—expectations as high and unyielding as the skyscrapers that dominate New York’s skyline.

My fingers absentmindedly trace the contours of my engagement ring, a stunning piece of artistry that seems to mock me with its weight. An intricate band of white gold twists around a diamond so large it easily catches the light from the screen on my phone, even after switching off the flashlight.

I need to understand the man I’m supposed to marry—the man who commands fear and respect in equal measure. My resolve hardens as I rise from the couch, the diary tucked under my arm, and find my way through the sprawling apartment that feels more like a fortress with each step. The hallways are silent, but I feel eyes on me, watching, always watching.

Finally, I reach his office, the door closed. I knock once, and as I wait for Nick to reply, I start wondering if he’s even home. Most days, he disappears after breakfast. Sometimes he tells me about meetings he has, but that’s mostly when he has to leave the apartment. I don’t actually know what he’s doing when he’s here.

“Nick?” I call as I knock once more, but instead of waiting, I push the handle down.

Last night he gave me a damn engagement ring and said he loves me, I take that to mean I don’t have to stand out here waiting for an audience.