Sweet For You, Ruthl Chapter 32: Choosing Herself & Niklaus Test

Chapter 32: Choosing Herself & Niklaus Test

HERMIA POV

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I was leaving.

I would go to the U.S., find a job, and work for myself.

I don’t need their approval. I don’t need their love.

I was done begging. Done hoping. Done hurting.

Squaring my shoulders, I forced my chin up, swallowing the knot of tears lodged in my throat. If I cried, they would win. And I refused to give them that satisfaction.

The house—no, this place—was no longer my ho. It never had been. I had been stupidly hopeful.

I grabbed my bags and moved, each step filled with purpose. But just as I reached the door, I stopped and turned. My gaze t theirs—Mariela, smug and victorious; Selena, practically vibrating with glee; and my father, his expression carved from stone.

I clenched my jaw. "You’ve asked

out of your lives, and that’s exactly what I’ll do. I’ll leave. And I hope, with every fiber of my being, that you regret this a million tis over."

My voice didn’t waver. It rang through the silence like a final verdict.

And then, without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked out the door.

No one stopped . No one called my na.

Not even him.

The heavy door shut behind

with a dull thud, and I let out a slow breath.

They thought they had won.

But they had no idea.

I stepped outside, gripping the suitcase handle so tightly my fingers ached. The cold night air bit at my skin, but I barely noticed. I was free.

Or so I thought.

Because the mont I reached the gates, I realized sothing.

I didn’t order an Uber.

I cursed under my breath. Seriously? In my grand, dramatic exit, I had forgotten one crucial detail.

My fingers scrambled for my phone, opening the ride-share app. The screen glowed in the darkness, illuminating my face, but my signal was weak.

Of course it is. One last screw-you from this wretched place.

I pressed the refresh button, my breath quickening as an uneasy feeling settled in my gut.

It was too quiet.

The street beyond the gates stretched into eerie darkness, illuminated only by the dim glow of streetlights. The estate behind

lood like a cold, lifeless tomb.

I swallowed.

I was alone.

I forced myself to focus. Get the ride, get to the airport, get the hell out of here.

The app finally loaded, and I exhaled sharply when a driver was confird. Five minutes away.

I stepped toward the main road, standing beneath a flickering streetlamp. The night felt endless, stretching before

like a void I was about to step into.

And then—

Footsteps.

I stiffened.

They were faint at first, but growing closer, slow and deliberate.

I turned too late.

A shadow erged from the darkness, a tall, imposing figure moving toward

with unnerving composure.

My pulse thundered.

I should run. I should scream.

But then—

"Miss Hermia," a deep, smooth voice cut through the night, sending a jolt down my spine.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

I didn’t know that voice.

My heart pounded as I turned fully, who was it?

God please, this might shouldn’t get worse.

Who was it?

My heart slamd against my ribs as a tall figure erged just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. The man was dressed in a sharp suit, his posture rigid, his presence unnervingly composed. He stood there, waiting—watching.

I swallowed hard. Everything about him scread authority, but the way he simply stood there, as if expecting sothing from , made my skin prickle with unease.

"Do I know you?" I asked, my voice tight with apprehension.

The man didn’t flinch. "Please follow ," he said, polite yet firm—too firm.

A sharp chill ran down my spine. Follow him? My instincts scread at

to stay put, to not move an inch.

I stole a quick glance at my phone. My Uber was still fifteen minutes away. This wasn’t my driver.

So who was he?

For a fleeting, stupid second, hope flickered inside . Had my father sent soone? A chauffeur, maybe, to ensure I left like a proper Hathaway rather than a disgraced outcast?

But the thought was crushed as quickly as it ca. No. My father wouldn’t waste the effort. He wanted

gone, discarded, erased.

"Follow you where?" I asked, trying to sound strong despite the tremor in my voice.

"To my boss." His voice was eerily steady. "He’s in the car."

My stomach twisted. His boss? What boss?

I looked past him, straining my eyes to see through the dimly lit street, but I saw nothing—no car, no headlights, just darkness swallowing the road ahead.

"What car?" My voice rose with unease. "Where is it? Leave

alone."

The man simply nodded, as if I had passed so sort of unspoken test. "Of course," he said, then turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing into the night without another word.

I stood there, frozen, my breath coming in shallow gasps. That was it? He was just... leaving?

A shiver crawled up my spine. Sothing didn’t feel right. The ease with which he walked away, the casual finality of it—it was as if he knew sothing I didn’t.

I clutched my suitcase handle tighter, my fingers trembling.

The street seed darker than before, heavier with an oppressive silence that made my skin crawl.

Where is this Uber?!

A low hum broke the stillness. My breath hitched as I turned sharply. Headlights.

A car was approaching.

The engine rumbled, the glow of its lights cutting through the gloom, growing brighter and brighter as it neared.

I didn’t understand. This area was private—no cars passed through here unless they belonged to my family. And I hadn’t heard the gate open.

This wasn’t my ride.

Dread curled around my throat.

I grabbed my suitcase and started walking, fast. My flats slapped against the pavent, my pulse hamring in ti with my frantic steps.

This is it, my mind scread. I’m going to get kidnapped. No one will know. I’ll disappear, and no one will care.

I refused to look back, refused to acknowledge the rising panic clawing at my insides.

Don’t look back. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

The car’s engine growled louder. It was getting closer.

Then—

It stopped.

Right behind .

A door clicked open.

My breath caught.

I moved faster, but the universe had other plans.

My foot hit an uneven patch of ground, and I stumbled, my body pitching forward.

This is it.

But I never hit the ground.

A pair of strong arms caught

mid-fall, steadying

effortlessly. The warmth of them seeped into my skin, steady and familiar.

A voice, smooth and composed, sent a jolt through my chest.

"Hello, Mia."

Every muscle in my body locked. My breath stilled.

I knew that voice.

I tilted my head, my wide, frightened eyes locking onto a face I hadn’t seen in so long yet would never forget.

Niklaus.

My stomach dropped.

Relief crashed over

first, so overwhelming I almost sagged in his grip. "It’s you," I whispered, my voice laced with exhaustion and wariness.

He smirked, setting

upright but not letting go just yet. "It’s ."

I swallowed, brushing myself off as I took a step back, crossing my arms. "Did you send that first man?"

Niklaus’s smirk deepened. "Yes. My assistant."

I narrowed my eyes. "You have a very strange way of making an entrance."

"Would you have preferred I just pulled up and said ’get in’?" His tone was teasing, as if this were all a ga.

I scoffed. "Oh, and sending your assistant out of the shadows to tell

to ’follow him’ wasn’t suspicious at all?"

Niklaus chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling with amusent. "Strategic, actually."

I gaped at him. "Strategic?!"

He shrugged, entirely too pleased with himself. "I wanted to see how smart you were."

"Smart?! You had a man pop out of nowhere like so horror movie villain and expected

to blindly follow him?" I huffed. "What part of that sounded like a good idea in your head?"

Niklaus grinned, utterly unbothered by my outrage. "Give

so credit, Mia. You didn’t trust him, which ans you have good instincts." His gaze flickered with sothing unreadable. "I’m proud of you for being cautious."

Proud of ? My jaw tightened.

This was so typical of him. Showing up when I least expected it, upending my life, and sohow managing to make it seem like I was the one being ridiculous.

And yet—

That familiar smirk, the effortless confidence, the way his voice curled around my na like a secret—

I hated how my heart still reacted to him.

I squared my shoulders, lifting my chin. "Well, now that you’ve conducted your little test, I should be proud of myself?"

His smirk softened into sothing more dangerous. Sothing knowing.

"Oh, Mia," he murmured, stepping closer. "Who said I ca here only for that?"

The air between us crackled.

I swallowed hard, but I refused to back down.

Niklaus Hathaway was many things—wealthy, powerful, maddeningly smug.

But whatever ga he thought he was playing...

I wasn’t going to let him win.