Nicholas stepped into the house like he owned it.
His eyes flicked around, avoiding Mason's glare but pretending to be calm. Mason didn't buy the act.
He stood by the door with his arms crossed, jaw clenched, and eyes full of fire.
"What are you doing here, Nicholas?" Mason's voice cut through the air, sharp and unwelcoming.
Nicholas didn't flinch. He slowly turned toward his older brother, raising one brow like he found the question amusing.
"Am I not welcome in my brother's house?" Nicholas asked, half smiling, half mocking.
"Anyway, I'm not here to see you."
He brushed past Mason like he didn't even see him and walked into the living room where Anastasia stood frozen, still unsure about what was happening.
Mason remained by the door, watching with fury burning behind his eyes.
"Hello, Anastasia," Nicholas greeted warmly, holding out a beautifully wrapped fruit basket.
"This is from Grandpa. He asked me to give it to you."
Anastasia smiled politely and took the basket from him, but her eyes darted quickly to Mason, who was now stalking toward them.
His face was hard, and his steps were slow but intense.
"Why would Grandpa send you here to deliver that to my wife?" Mason asked coldly, stopping just inches from Nicholas, his voice low but threatening.
Following his words, Anastasia's heart skipped a beat.
'He just called me his wife… again?' Her thoughts raced, confused. 'Why now? And why like this… in front of Nicholas, what is he trying to prove?'
Nicholas tilted his head like he was trying not to laugh.
"I went to Grandpa's place to pick something up," Nicholas replied, casual and careless. "As I was leaving, I overheard him asking Philip to bring this to your wife. I offered to help since I was passing by. That's all."
His tone wasn't apologetic. It was filled with mockery, like he enjoyed watching Mason squirm.
Mason's eyes narrowed as his jaw clenched tighter. Nicholas, sensing the tension, gave a dramatic sigh and took a step back.
"Well, since I'm obviously not welcome here, I'll take my leave."
He turned to go, but Mason wasn't done.
"Let this be the last time you show up at my house uninvited," Mason warned, stepping in front of him. "Goodnight."
Nicholas smirked again. That same irritating, careless smirk that always managed to get under Mason's skin.
"See you at the office tomorrow," he said to Anastasia with a wink before walking out the door.
The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence that followed. Anastasia looked at Mason, but he was staring hard at the space where Nicholas had just been.
She didn't want another fight. Not tonight. Without a word, she left the fruit basket and turned toward the hallway.
"Goodnight," she said softly, not bothering to check if he heard her. And as usual, Mason didn't respond.
She climbed the stairs quickly and disappeared into her room. The door shut quietly behind her.
Mason stayed in the living room, still standing, still angry, still confused.
He walked slowly toward the couch and sat down, rubbing his face with both hands. His mind spun like a wheel refusing to stop.
'Why was Nicholas really here? Why now? And why did Grandpa send him?' He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the empty space in front of him.
'Why did he call her, "your wife" like it meant something more than a mere statement?'
He had said it himself just moments ago. "My wife." The words had rolled off his tongue so naturally. But why?
He wasn't sure.
He wasn't ready to admit anything to himself or anyone else, but something about the way Nicholas looked at Anastasia made his blood boil.
He hated it... He hated how relaxed Nicholas was.
He hated the way Anastasia smiled, even if it was polite. He hated the fruit basket sitting on the coffee table, like some cheap peace offering.
He hated how suddenly everything felt out of place in his own house. He stood up and paced around the room.
'Grandpa…' Mason thought as he narrowed his eyes.
His grandfather didn't do anything without a reason. He didn't send Nicholas out of kindness. No, that man calculated every move. Always.
So what was the message behind this? Was it a test?, A trick? Or a reminder?... And why Anastasia?
Why now?
Mason's thoughts moved in circles. He walked over to the window and pulled the curtain slightly, peeking into the night.
Nicholas's car was gone. But the unrest he left behind still hung in the air. His fists tightened.
He turned around and looked at the hallway where Anastasia had disappeared. She hadn't argued, she hadn't said a single word about the whole fruit thing.
That bothered him... It wasn't like her.
She was always ready to explain herself, But tonight… she looked tired. Quiet. Almost like she was giving up.
And something about that made Mason feel worse.
He let out a slow breath and walked over to the fruit basket. He stared at it for a while before picking it up and setting it on the floor like it was cursed.
Then he sat down again.
He leaned back, resting his head against the couch, eyes on the ceiling. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner.
He closed his eyes, as his mind went back to what Nicholas said... "See you at the office tomorrow."
Why did it sound like a warning? What game was Nicholas playing? And why did he feel like Grandpa was the one moving all the pieces?
A sour taste crept into his mouth. The kind that came before something bad. Something big, he couldn't shake it off.
Mason sat up again and rubbed the back of his neck.
His instincts screamed at him, and they were rarely wrong. He turned his head slightly, eyes sharp, mind racing.
And as the night deepened, and the lights in the house dimmed, the only thing Mason knew for sure... was that the next move belonged to them.
And it would change everything...
★★★
Anastasia sat quietly in front of her mirror, her fingers brushing through her slightly damp hair.
Her eyes stayed fixed on her reflection, but her mind wasn't in the room.
'Mason has been acting very possessive recently…' she thought to herself. 'He never used to care what I do, where I go, or who I talk to.'
She leaned closer to the mirror, studying her own eyes like they held answers.
"What changed?" she whispered to herself.
Her fingers moved to the side of her face as she gently wiped off the remaining makeup. The mascara smudged slightly, but she didn't care.
"I need to focus," she murmured. "Make enough money, clear my debt, and get my life back. I can't live like this, like I'm locked in a golden cage."
She stared at the wedding ring on her finger and slowly slipped it off, setting it down on the table.
Her eyes lingered on it for a few seconds longer before she stood up.
The bathroom door clicked open. She stepped under the shower, hoping the hot water would calm her nerves. But it didn't.
Instead, the thoughts became louder.
'Grandpa never used to send Nicholas. He always sent Philip. So why the sudden change?'
She tilted her head back, letting the water run down her body.
'And why tonight of all night?'
The moment replayed in her head again, Nicholas smiling, Mason snapping, her standing between two silent wars.
She ran her hands through her hair and sighed deeply.
"I need to keep my head in the game," she muttered under her breath. "No distractions."
She stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel as the cool air hit her skin.
Wrapping it around herself, she walked to the small counter by the sink and wiped off the fogged mirror with her palm.
Her eyes caught her own reflection again. She looked stronger tonight. Tired, but stronger.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed from the bed, making her frown. No one texted her this late, not unless it was urgent.
She walked over and picked up the phone, swiping to unlock it and the message stared at her.
"Don't trust anyone, especially the one who called you his wife."
She blinked. Once. Twice, as fear gripped her. The room fell silent. Even her breath slowed.
The message had no name, no number, just those words, as she didn't knew who sent it. Her grip on the phone tightened.
She read it again with rage and fear in her eyes as chill ran down her spine.
The message was meant for her... And her alone...