"But it doesn’t seem like Ellis cares." He glances at . "Whether his partner sits with him or not."
I stare at him.
My jaw tightens until my teeth ache.
Why is everyone trying to get on my nerves today?
The words co out before I can stop them—cold, flat, empty of everything except exhaustion.
"Why would I care about him?"
I lean back in my chair, shoulders settling into it—letting my posture say what my voice won’t.
"You all seem eager to take care of him." I pause, letting my gaze drift across their faces—one by one. "Isn’t that true?"
Everic’s smile doesn’t falter. It widens, growing into sothing almost fond.
"He’s soft," he says. "Cute. Good."
He lifts his teacup. Sips. Calm. Deliberate. Like he has all the ti in the world.
"Anyone would want to take care of him." A pause. His eyes et mine over the rim of the cup.
"Even if he didn’t ask."
He sets the cup down.
The soft clink echoes through the quiet room.
"Dad..."
Dad looks at him.
Everic’s gaze shifts to . A smirk curls at the corner of his mouth.
"I’m not surprised by his temper." He tilts his head slightly. "He’s been like this from the start." A pause. Longer this ti.
"Not caring about his things. Or his people."
"Really?" My voice sharpens. Cuts. "Like you know—"
"Ellis."
Dad’s voice slices through the space between us—cold, sharp, a blade dressed in silk.
"Everic."
A pause. The air thickens, coiling around us like smoke.
"Enough." Dad’s jaw tightens—releases—tightens again. "I don’t want to hear another word about this."
I look away.
My eyes find the glass wall. The garden. The flowers—still blooming, still pretending—covered in morning dew that makes them look like they’re crying.
They’re the ones pushing .
Dad’s voice changes. Softens. Almost gentle—the kind of voice he uses when he’s about to ask for sothing he knows he doesn’t deserve.
"Silas is my best friend’s son."
A pause.
He’s not looking at . His gaze rests on his hands wrapped around his coffee cup.
"He’s a good boy. Intelligent."
I roll my eyes.
What’s so special about him? Even their voices soften when they talk about him.
"After his father died..." Dad’s voice drops lower. Quieter. Like he’s sharing a truth he never wanted to say aloud. "He held the whole business together. Made it number one in his country."
He looks up. His eyes find mine.
"No one can compete with SE Holdings now." A pause. Longer than the others. "It’s counted among the top businesses globally."
I stare at the garden.
The light catches the leaves. Makes them glow. Makes them look alive in a way I haven’t felt in weeks.
So this is the reason.
My dad likes him that much.
Perfect.
I’m not surprised.
Everic sets his cup down. The soft clink against the saucer lands like a period at the end of a sentence.
"Impressive."
Dad nods slowly. His eyes never leave .
"Now he’s part of this family." His voice hardens—just a little, just enough.
"So I expect all of you to treat him well. Build a proper relationship with him."
A pause.
"Especially you, Ellis."
I look at him.
"This is my last warning." Dad’s voice drops—low, final. The tone of a man who’s done negotiating. "Don’t test my patience again. Try to understand him. Get closer to him."
Another pause.
"He’s a good boy. Kind."
He pauses again. Longer this ti. The silence stretches between us like a rope pulled tight.
"The servants told ." His voice sharpens. "Last night—you drank too much. Fell asleep in the private bar."
He stops. Lets the words settle.
"Do you even realize how rude that was?"
I stare at him.
"They told Silas carried you back to your room." Dad’s jaw tightens. A muscle ticks beneath his skin. "Treated your hand."
Another pause.
"Even cleaned you up. You were covered in alcohol."
Cleaned up.
The words land in my chest like stones dropped into deep water. One by one. Sinking.
"Ellis."
Dad touches the tip of his nose—a habit he’s had for as long as I can rember.
"Do you know how embarrassing this is for ?" His voice cracks—just a little, just enough to notice.
"Do you really think I can face him after what you did on your first wedding night? Troubling your partner like this?"
He shakes his head. Slow. Tired.
"I don’t know how I’ll face him. When my son behaves this way."
His eyes et mine.
"You embarrassed ."
The words hang in the air. Heavy. Accusing.
A pause. Long. Stretching.
"He’s your partner." Dad’s voice drops, almost a whisper now.
"Think a little. Accept him."
Another pause.
"It’s better for you."
Better for ..
Before I can reply—
The door opens.
Silas steps in.
Sunlight pours in from the glass wall, catching on him—softening him, framing him, making him look like sothing painted into the room rather than placed in it.
His clothes are simple. His hair still soft from sleep, but not ssy.
His eyes move across the room—slow, careful—taking everything in without settling on anything for too long.
Everyone’s faces change.
Like soone lit candles behind their eyes.
Mom smiles. Warm. Welcoming. The kind of smile she used to give when I was small—when she still thought I could do no wrong.
"Good morning, sunshine."
Silas returns the smile. Nods. Just a small movent of his head.
His eyes find the table. The empty chairs. The place set for him beside .
Everic’s voice lifts—bright, eager, almost hungry.
"Good morning, Silas."
His gaze fixes on him. A smile curves at his lips—too wide, too warm, too... sothing.
I look at Everic.
His mind screams.
{He looks even more beautiful today. How is that possible? How does he keep doing that?}
Silas steps toward the table. Toward the empty chair. His hand reaches for the back of it, fingers curling around the wood.
I stand up.
Suddenly.
The chair scrapes against the floor—loud, harsh, violent. The sound tears through the quiet like a scream.
"Every eye turns to ."
Mom’s eyes widen. Dad goes still. Everic’s smile falters—just for a second.
I turn.
My gaze finds Silas.
I catch his wrist.
His skin is warm. Soft.
His smile fades. Confusion flickers across his face—just a shadow, there and gone.
I start walking.
Back toward the door.
Dragging him with .
Mom’s voice rises—shocked, confused, almost frightened.
"Where are you going?"
I stop.
Turn.
Look at them.
Morning light spills across their faces—confusion, worry, the beginning of anger. Dad’s grip tightens around his coffee cup. Everic stares at our joined hands like he’s watching sothing he can’t understand.
"I think my partner and I," I say—and the word tastes strange on my tongue, "need so ti alone."
Mom’s mouth opens. "But breakfast—"
Before she can finish—
I open the door.
Step out.
Silas follows.
Quiet.
Obedient.
Without resistance.
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