Sylvain stirred awake the next morning, his body aching in places he didn’t want to acknowledge. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his phone. It was already past ten.
He had slept late again.
Panic flared in his chest as fragnts of the previous night flooded back — the pain, the intensity, the way Silas had taken him without rcy.
He quickly got out of bed, threw on a simple shirt and pants, and rushed out of the guest room, heart pounding with dread at what Silas might say about his oversleeping.
The mont he stepped into the dining area, he froze in place.
Silas was already seated at the long table, dressed in a black suit that made him look every inch the powerful businessman ready for the day.
He was calmly reading a glossy magazine, one leg crossed over the other. In front of him was a sumptuous breakfast spread that had clearly been ordered in — crispy bacon, fresh croissants, eggs Benedict with hollandaise, a colorful fruit platter, and a silver pot of steaming coffee.
The rich aromas filled the penthouse, savory and inviting.
Silas didn’t look up imdiately. He simply flipped a page and said in a calm, tone, "You woke up late again."
Sylvain fidgeted, his fingers twisting the hem of his shirt. Heat crept up his neck. "I’m sorry... I didn’t an to sleep so long. I’ll prepare sothing right away—"
Silas finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes pinning Sylvain in place. "Sit down and eat."
Sylvain obeyed without another word, sliding into the chair opposite Silas. The silence between them was heavy and uncomfortable as they both began to eat.
No conversation passed. The only sounds were the soft clink of cutlery and the distant hum of the city far below.
Midway through the al, Sylvain kept stealing glances at Silas, his nerves growing tighter with every second. Finally, Silas set his fork down and looked at him directly. "Why do you keep looking at like that?"
Sylvain hesitated, his cheeks flushing. After a long painful pause, he gathered his courage and spoke softly. "I... I would like you to reduce your eyes on my brother."
Silas raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Why?"
Sylvain’s face turned even redder. He looked down at his plate, voice barely audible. "Because... I already paid last night."
A dangerous smile curved Silas’s lips. "I didn’t tell you I was satisfied. Perhaps we should do it again this morning."
Sylvain’s eyes widened in fear. He waved his hands repeatedly, shaking his head frantically. "No.....please, I didn’t an it like that—"
Silas watched him struggle for a mont, clearly enjoying the panic, before speaking again, his tone calm but rciless. "You have two choices. Do you want your brother’s freedom... or do you want news about your parents?"
Sylvain stared down at his half-eaten al, his mind racing. The silence stretched painfully long. The weight of the decision pressed down on him like a physical force.
His brother’s face flashed in his mind — Leon’s tired eyes, his fragile hope. Then the mory of his parents, the unanswered questions. He didn’t know if their death was a truth or a lie, but he can’t trade his brother freedom for them.
After what felt like an eternity, Sylvain answered in a stiff, broken voice. "My brother’s freedom."
Silas looked at him for a very long ti, his dark eyes unreadable, searching Sylvain eyes. The silence was suffocating.
Finally, without a word, Silas went back to his al as if the conversation had never happened.
A few monts later, Silas’s phone rang. He picked it up, listened quietly, and responded with a simple "Hmm." After the call ended, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood up.
"My driver will take you and your brother out today," he said casually. Before leaving, he reached over and tapped Sylvain lightly on the nose with one finger. A surprisingly gentle, almost playful gesture that left Sylvain stunned and confused.
Silas walked out without another word, leaving Sylvain sitting there, heart pounding, trying to process what had just happened. The tap on his nose stayed like a brand, a strange contrast to the cold power Silas usually wielded.
anwhile, across the city, Silas stepped into his sleek, modern office. His secretary, Lena, greeted him with her usual professional nod. "Good morning, Mr. Vane."
Silas nodded once. "Bring the docunts on that case."
Lena quickly retrieved a thick folder and placed it on his desk. Silas skimd through the pages.
After a mont, he spoke. "Tell those people watching Sylvain’s brother to take a break. He can have so freedom for now. Make sure it’s supervised but loose."
Lena nodded efficiently. "Understood, sir. I’ll handle it right away." She turned and walked out to carry out the order.
Silas had barely returned to the files when his phone rang again. This ti, it was his mother.
"Silas, darling," Alia’s voice ca through. "I’m coming to your house tomorrow. Make sure you’re prepared for my visit. We have things to discuss."
Before he could respond, she ended the call.
Silas shook his head slowly, a rare hint of exasperation crossing his face. He set the phone down and went back to the docunts, his mind already turning over the complications of the day ahead.
Back at the penthouse, Sylvain remained seated at the dining table for a long ti after Silas left. The gentle tap on his nose still burned on his skin. He touched the spot absently, confused by the unexpected softness from a man who had been nothing but commanding and cruel.
He eventually stood up and began clearing the table, his movents chanical. The food tasted like ash in his mory.
His brother’s freedom — that was what he had chosen. The relief was bittersweet. He had sacrificed another piece of himself for Leon’s safety, and he didn’t know how many pieces he had left.
Later that afternoon,bthe driver arrived to take him to see his brother, Sylvain felt a small spark of hope for the first ti in days. But even that hope was shadowed by the knowledge that nothing in his life was truly free anymore.
Every kindness from Silas ca with a price.
And tonight, he would have to pay another one.
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