Silas set his fork down slowly and wiped his mouth with a napkin. His expression remained cool, almost bored, but Sylvain could see the tension in his jaw.
"Mother, this is not the ti or place for this discussion."
Alia leaned back in her chair, elegantly crossing her arms. "Then when is the ti, Silas? Are you two hiding sothing from ?"
"Mom, we are not hiding anything. He is my errand boy. Nothing more, nothing less."
Alia drank the last drop of wine in her glass and looked up at her son. "When are you getting married, Silas? At this age, I should already be expecting twins from you."
Sylvain swallowed hard. He bent his head low and continued eating, trying to disappear into his plate. Silas stared at him and smirked. "Mom, you should not be expecting any grandchildren from ."
Alia frowned, searching her son’s face. "What do you an, Silas? Are you not getting married?"
Silas tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table and shook his head. "For now... no."
"So you are saying I don’t deserve a grandchild, Silas?" Alia’s voice sharpened. "That’s fine by . I will organize one lady by myself if you don’t want, at least you will do the favor of impregnating her."
She turned to Sylvain, her tone softening slightly but still firm. "It must be hard working for my son when he doesn’t deserve such loyalty. I know he can be wasteful, but don’t you want a real job? Sothing that matches your education?"
Sylvain’s throat went dry. He couldn’t answer, not with Silas here.
Alia turned back to Silas. "I know you’re hiding soone. I need a grandchild, Silas. If you don’t provide one, I will make a drastic move."
"Soon, Mama," Silas replied, taking a sip of his wine.
Alia raised her eyebrows. "When you finally decide to marry the poor girl you’re hiding? Or when this... errand boy with a Wharton MBA continues wasting away in your kitchen?"
Sylvain wanted the floor to swallow him whole. His face burned with humiliation. He could feel Alia’s sharp gaze on him, assessing and judging every inch of him.
Silas’s eyes flicked to Sylvain for a split second before returning to his mother. "He is here because I want him here. That is all you need to know."
Alia let out a short, humorless laugh. "You want him here? As what? Your personal chef? Your housekeeper? A man with that education, and you have him cooking ran?" She turned to Sylvain, her tone softening just a fraction. "Tell , Sylvain. Do you enjoy this arrangent?"
Sylvain’s throat closed up. He couldn’t look at Silas. He couldn’t look at Alia either. "I... I’m grateful to be here, ma’am," he whispered.
"Grateful," Alia repeated, tasting the word like sothing sour. She shook her head. "You’re grateful to be reduced to this?"
Silas’s hand tightened around his wine glass. "Enough."
The single word carried absolute authority. Even Alia paused.
Silas stood up smoothly, buttoning his suit jacket. "Mother, I appreciate your concern, but my personal life is exactly that — personal. If you ca here to eat, then eat. If you ca here to interrogate , then I suggest we schedule a proper eting."
Alia studied her son for a long mont, eyes narrowing. Then she sighed, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
"Very well," she said, standing gracefully. "But don’t think this conversation is over, Silas. You are my son. I will not watch you throw away your future on... whatever this is."
Her gaze slid to Sylvain once more, softer this ti, almost pitying. "And you, young man. Whatever Silas is using to weigh you down, rember you have options. If you ever need anything — a real job, references, anything — you have my number now."
She placed her business card on the table in front of Sylvain.
Sylvain could only nod, too overwheld to speak.
Alia picked up her bag. "I’ll see myself out. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
She walked toward the door, heels clicking sharply. Just before she left, she turned back one last ti. "Silas," she said sternly, "don’t make regret raising you to be better than this."
The penthouse fell into heavy silence.
Sylvain remained seated, staring at his plate, hands clenched tightly in his lap. His face was still burning. The humiliation sat like a stone in his chest.
Silas didn’t move for several seconds. Then he walked over to the table, picked up his wine glass, and drained it in one go.
"You told her you were my friend," he said, voice dangerously calm.
Sylvain flinched. "I... I didn’t know what else to say. She asked and I—"
"Weren’t you excited to exchange numbers with her, huh?" Silas set the glass down hard enough to make it clink. "You thought this was a way out, right? A way out for your freedom, Sylvain."
He walked around the table until he stood directly behind Sylvain. One hand ca down on his shoulder, fingers pressing into the fresh bite mark from the night before.
"You embarrassed in front of my mother," Silas murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed Sylvain’s ear. "Do you know what that ans?"
Sylvain shivered, fear and heat twisting together in his stomach. "I’m sorry."
Silas’s grip tightened. "You will be."
He pulled Sylvain up from the chair by the shoulder, turning him around so they were face to face. Silas’s eyes were dark, stormy with irritation and sothing much darker.
"On your knees," he ordered.
Sylvain sank down without protest, knees hitting the floor. He looked up at Silas, waiting, his heart was racing.
Silas threaded his fingers through Sylvain’s hair, tilting his head back. "You’re going to make it up to tonight. And tomorrow. And every day until I decide you’ve learned your place again."
Sylvain’s breath hitched. "Yes, sir."
Silas’s smile was slow and dangerous. "Good boy."
_______
Alia walked out of the elevator, her driver already standing by the car. "Take to the girls’ hideout."
"Yes, ma’am." The driver opened the door, and Alia slid into the back seat.
The car zood off. Alia continued tapping on her phone before dialing a number. "Phine, I need so strong drink tonight... Yes, anything strong. I’m literally breaking here, I need you girls’ advice."
The person on the other end sounded concerned. "Uhm, Alia, are you okay? Your voice doesn’t sound right. Is anything wrong with Silas?"
"Yes, Josephine. I think my son is gay." Alia ran her hand through her hair.
"Gay like G-A-Y? How can Silas be gay? Alia, you have to calm down. You’re overreacting. What did he do?"
"I’m not overreacting, Phine. I’m thirty percent sure that Silas is gay. Why would my son be gay? Please tell them to get the drinks ready. I’m not far from there. I need to calm myself down now."
"I understand you, Alia, but you need to calm down. This is not sothing to be spoken about over the phone."
The car skidded to a stop in front of a luxurious discreet building. Alia opened the door and walked inside. "I’m already here, Josephine."
She knocked on a private door. In seconds, it opened. Josephine and two other won — Vivian and Margaret were waiting inside.
"Oh my poor Alia, you are already vibrating," Josephine said, pulling her into a hug. "In... out. Breathe."
Alia walked inside and slid onto the couch. A waiter entered with a bottle of white wine. Alia grabbed the Chardonnay in one swoop. "Get the bottle here. I need a refill."
The waiter was stunned, his mouth open wide.
Josephine and the two won quickly surrounded Alia. Vivian rubbed her back. "You have to calm down, Alia. This is not the solution. No matter whether it’s true or not, Silas is your son. Your only child at that."
Alia stared at Josephine. "Why , Phine? Why? I did like you all said. I was cold to the person I t in the house, and guess what? I t an MBA graduate. From Wharton, at that."
Vivian placed a hand on her neck. "Uhm... that’s not bad. So you t your son’s friend and you assu he is gay? Co on, Alia."
"He was cooking for Silas. A job that should be done by a lady. The both of them were shy to stare at each other while I was there. And you tell nothing is going on there."
Margaret shifted on her chair. "So you are saying an MBA graduate is cooking for your son. Did you ask the guy why?"
Alia rolled her eyes. "The guy was too scared to raise his head. He kept fumbling with his clothes."
"Ooh... so why is that an issue if your son is gay?" Vivian asked, still confused about Alia’s anger.
Alia’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Because his father was. His father was gay."
The three won’s eyes widened in shock, stunned by the bombshell Alia had just dropped.
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