Chapter 42
The drive to the Harrington estate was tense in a way that was completely different from the visit to Lyra's father.
Where that had been nervous anticipation, this felt more like preparing for battle.
Nyx sat rigid in the passenger seat, her coal-black eyes fixed straight ahead, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone white.
"We can turn around," Remy offered quietly as they approached the gated community where Nyx had grown up. "You don't have to do this. We don't need their blessing."
"Yes, I do," Nyx said, her voice tight but determined. "Not for the blessing—I know we won't get that. But for closure. So I can say I tried. So I can walk away knowing I gave them every chance to choose me over their expectations."
The Harrington house was imposing in a way that spoke of academic prestige rather than wealth.
A traditional colonial in a neighborhood populated by university professors and intellectuals.
Everything about it screamed respectability, conformity, achievement measured in degrees and publications rather than dollars.
Nyx's parents stood waiting on the front steps like sentinels.
Dr. Richard Harrington looked exactly as Remy had remembered from their last encounter.
A tall, thin, severe, with steel-gray hair and the kind of face that suggested he'd never smiled in his life.
Dr. Catherine Harrington stood beside him, equally rigid, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, her expression one of barely controlled disapproval.
"Nyx," her father said coldly as they approached. "You're late. We agreed on 2:00 PM. It's 2:04."
"Hello, Father. Mother," Nyx replied, her voice carefully neutral. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. This is Remy Beaumont. My... my fiancé."
"One of them, I understand," Catherine said, her tone dripping with disdain. "Shall we discuss this inside? I'd rather the neighbors not witness this conversation."
The interior of the house was as cold as its occupants, everything perfectly arranged, nothing out of place, the kind of space that felt more like a museum than a home.
They were led to a formal sitting room where Remy suspected no one had ever actually sat comfortably.
"So," Richard began without preamble once they were all seated. "
You're here to inform us of your intention to marry this... young man. Along with two other women, if the rumours we've heard are accurate."
"They're not rumours," Nyx said, her spine straight, her chin lifted.
"Remy, Lyra, Indigo, and I are in a committed polyamorous relationship.
We're planning to marry, all four of us. I wanted you to hear it from me directly, and to invite you to the ceremony."
"Absolutely not," Catherine said immediately. "Nyx Eleanor Harrington, have you completely lost your mind?
A polyamorous relationship? Do you have any idea how that reflects on this family?
On your father's position at the university? On our standing in the academic community?"
"I don't particularly care," Nyx said calmly, though Remy could see the slight tremor in her hands.
"This isn't about your standing. This is about my life. My happiness. My choice of family."
"Choice?" Richard scoffed. "You've thrown away every advantage we gave you.
The education, the opportunities, the path we carefully laid out for your success.
And for what? To be part of some... some cult-like arrangement with people you barely know?"
"I've known them for almost a year," Nyx corrected. "And they know me better than you ever have.
They see me as a person, not a resume. They value my thoughts and feelings, not just my test scores and publications."
"We invested everything in you," Catherine said, her voice rising.
"Private tutors, the best schools, every opportunity to excel. We sacrificed so you could achieve greatness, reach your potential, make a meaningful contribution to the world.
And this is how you repay us? By throwing it all away for some... some romantic fantasy?"
"I've made meaningful contributions," Nyx said quietly, her voice steady. "I helped build the cybersecurity systems that took down the Parston criminal enterprise
A case that the FBI called one of the most comprehensive fraud investigations in recent history.
I've created economic models that are being studied by research institutions.
I've used my intelligence for work that actually matters, work that helps people, work that I chose freely instead of work imposed on me."
Richard waved his hand dismissively. "All of that was accomplished despite this distraction, not because of it.
Imagine what you could have achieved if you'd remained focused, if you'd stayed on the path we designed for you instead of getting sidetracked by relationships and emotions."
"The path you designed," Nyx repeated, something hardening in her voice.
"That's the problem, isn't it? You've never once asked what I wanted.
What would make me happy. What path I would choose for myself if given the freedom to choose."
"Because you're our daughter," Catherine said, as if that explained everything.
"We know what's best for you. We've always known. And this...." she gestured vaguely at Remy "....this is clearly not it."
Remy had remained silent until now, letting Nyx handle the conversation as she'd requested. But he couldn't stay quiet any longer.
"With respect, Dr. and Dr. Harrington, you don't know your daughter at all. If you did, you'd see that she's thriving.
That she's happy. That the work she's doing now, the work she chose freely, is more meaningful and impactful than anything she accomplished while trying to meet your expectations."
He leaned forward slightly. "Nyx's contribution to bringing down the Parstons didn't just happen by accident.
She designed defensive systems, traced attack vectors, documented evidence that federal investigators said was textbook-perfect.
She did that because she wanted to protect people she cared about, because she chose to use her gifts for something meaningful.
That's who your daughter is when she's free to choose, brilliant, courageous, and deeply committed to helping others."
"You have no right to speak here," Richard said sharply. "This is a family matter."
"I'm going to be family," Remy replied calmly. "That's why we're here. And as family, I have every right to point out that you're making a choice right now
A choice between your daughter's genuine happiness and your own pride. Between accepting her as she is or losing her entirely."
"Is that a threat?" Catherine demanded.
"It's reality," Nyx said, her voice steady despite the tears forming in her eyes.
"I came here hoping.... desperately hoping, that you might surprise me.
That you might choose me over your expectations just once. That you might say my happiness matters more than your academic reputation or your plans for my life."
She stood up, and Remy stood with her. "But I see that's not going to happen.
So I'm going to make this very simple. I love Remy. I love Lyra. I love Indigo.
We're building a life together, an unconventional, beautiful, meaningful life.
And I'm inviting you to be part of it. To come to our wedding. To accept that this is who I am and who I choose to be."
"That's not a choice we can accept," Richard said firmly. "We're giving you one last chance, Nyx.
One final opportunity to come to your senses. Leave this... arrangement.
Come back under our guidance. We'll help you refocus on your career, on meaningful work, on the legacy you're meant to build.
We'll forgive this lapse in judgment if you walk away from these people right now."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Nyx looked at her parents, the two people who should have loved her unconditionally but had only ever loved the version of her that met their expectations.
Then she looked at Remy, who loved her exactly as she was.
"Then I choose to be disowned," Nyx said, her voice clear and strong despite the tears streaming down her face.
"I choose the people who love me for who I am, not who they want me to be.
I choose happiness over approval. I choose freedom over control. I choose love."
"Nyx...." Catherine started, shock breaking through her rigid composure.
"I'm sad," Nyx continued, her voice breaking slightly.
"I'm sad that it wasn't my parents who understood their own daughter.
That you knew every detail of my academic achievements but never bothered to learn what makes me laugh or what I dream about or what I'm afraid of.
You created a perfect student, but you never saw the person. And that's your loss, not mine."
She pulled two envelopes from her purse, wedding invitations that she'd carefully addressed and designed herself.
She placed them on the coffee table between them and her parents.
"This is the last time I'll meet with you as your daughter," Nyx said, her voice steady now, resolved.
"From today forward, we're strangers. You made that choice, not me. But I want you to know, the invitation stands.
If you ever decide that your daughter's happiness matters more than your pride, you know where to find me. Until then, I wish you well."
She turned and walked toward the door, her head held high despite the tears.
Remy followed, pausing only to add quietly, "She's extraordinary. Always has been. I'm sorry you never saw that."
They left Richard and Catherine Harrington sitting in their perfect, cold sitting room, surrounded by academic achievements and empty of love, staring at the wedding invitations as if they were written in a foreign language they couldn't comprehend.
The moment they reached the car, Nyx's composure shattered completely.
She collapsed into the passenger seat and cried, deep, wrenching sobs that seemed to tear from somewhere primal, years of repressed emotion finally breaking free.
Remy didn't try to stop her or tell her it would be okay. He simply held her, one hand stroking her coal-black hair, letting her cry out all the grief and loss and liberation that came with choosing yourself over your parents' love.
"I did it," Nyx gasped between sobs. "I actually did it. I chose us over them. I walked away."
"You were so brave," Remy said softly. "So strong. I'm proud of you."
"It hurts," Nyx admitted, her voice muffled against his chest.
"Even though I know it was the right choice, even though I know they were toxic and controlling and never really loved me, it still hurts.
They're my parents. And I just lost them."
"No," Remy corrected gently. "They lost you. There's a difference.
You didn't do anything wrong. You just refused to keep sacrificing yourself for people who didn't appreciate the sacrifice."
They sat in the car outside the Harrington house for nearly thirty minutes while Nyx cried herself out.
Remy held her through all of it, occasionally murmuring reassurances, mostly just being present in her grief.
Finally, when the tears slowed, Nyx pulled back and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.
"Take me home. To our home. Where Lyra and Indigo are waiting. I need to be with people who actually love me."
"They're already there," Remy said, having texted them during Nyx's crying to let them know what happened.
"Lyra's making her stress-baking Banana and raisin bread.
Indigo's setting up the living room for comfort, blankets, tea, your favorite movies queued up. They're ready to take care of you."
Fresh tears spilled down Nyx's cheeks, but these were different, grateful rather than grieving.
"How did I get so lucky? To find you three? To have a family that actually chooses me?"
"We're the lucky ones," Remy said, starting the car.
"You chose us too. That's what makes it work, mutual choosing, every single day."
As they drove away from the Harrington estate, Nyx looked back one final time at the house where she'd grown up, where she'd spent twenty years trying to be perfect enough to earn love that should have been freely given.
"Goodbye," she whispered to the cold colonial and its colder occupants. "I hope someday you understand what you lost. But I'm not waiting around to find out."
She turned forward, toward the future, toward the family she'd chosen and who'd chosen her back.
Behind them, inside the house, Richard Harrington picked up one of the wedding invitations with shaking hands.
Catherine stood frozen, staring at the door their daughter had walked through, perhaps for the last time.
"She'll come back," Richard said, though his voice lacked conviction. "Once she realizes how foolish this is, she'll come back."
But the invitation in his hands told a different story. It was beautiful, elegant design, thoughtful wording, extending grace even to parents who'd offered none.
And at the bottom, in Nyx's precise handwriting, a single line:
"We hope you'll choose love over pride. But either way, we wish you peace."
Catherine picked up the second invitation, reading the same words.
"What have we done?" she whispered.
But there was no answer. Just the echo of a door closing and a daughter choosing herself for the first time in her life.
And in the car driving away, surrounded by love that asked nothing but gave everything, Nyx Harrington began the real work of healing, not from being disowned, but from finally being free.