"Honey, what are you doing!?" Vivienne gasped, rushing forward and placing herself between her husband and son. Her manicured hands gently touched Nolan's chest, her touch light and coaxing as she tried to calm the storm behind his eyes.
"Please, calm down," she whispered, casting a fleeting glance toward Adrian, whose face bore the fresh mark of Nolan's slap. Her voice trembled, not with fear for Adrian—but with fear of how far Nolan might go, and whether her fragile balance in this household might finally snap.
Nolan exhaled harshly, chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. Still, he nodded stiffly, stepping back at her urging. But his burning gaze didn't leave Adrian.
"Answer me, damn it!" Nolan barked. "Do you have any idea how much money and reputation I lost because you disappeared? Because you abandoned the deals I assigned to you like some spineless brat!"
Adrian stood there, his face pale, but his fists clenched at his sides. There was no shock in his expression—just a quiet, unbearable ache that reached into the very marrow of his bones.
"I've told you before," Adrian said softly, his voice threaded with grief. "I don't want to be part of this business. I never have."
Before Adrian could brace himself, a porcelain vase hurtled past his head, crashing at his feet with a deafening shatter. Shards scattered across the pristine marble floor like icy daggers. The sound echoed through the room like a scream, loud and final.
He flinched.
The same way he always had since childhood—when doors slammed, when voices were raised, when his dreams were dismissed like foolish fantasies. That broken vase was more than just a household item; it was a mirror of his heart, shattered in all the same places again and again.
"What kind of nonsense are you spewing!?" Nolan roared, fury etched into every hard line of his face. "Do you think I built all this—for you to throw it away like garbage? I sacrificed everything, Adrian! And this is what I get? A son who wants to chase after worthless passions like a commoner?"
Vivienne stepped back, shrinking into herself. Her spine straightened, her painted lips pressed into a tight line—but she didn't speak. She didn't move to protect Adrian again. She never did when things turned ugly.
Adrian's chest heaved, his breath shallow and ragged. His throat tightened around the lump of pain that had lived inside him for years. He could feel the heat rising behind his eyes, but he wouldn't cry. Not this time. Not for them.
This time… he would breathe through the pain. This time, he would not break.
Drawing in a trembling breath, Adrian lifted his gaze and met his father's stormy eyes with his own.
"No more," he whispered, voice trembling yet determined. "I'm done trying to be someone I'm not. I won't live my life in fear, walking the same path you did."
He took a step forward, shoulders squared, fists still clenched.
"I want to choose my own life. My own path. I want to be someone I can be proud of, not the puppet you've spent years trying to mold into your reflection."
But before he could finish his words, Nolan lunged forward, fury unchained. His hand gripped Adrian's collar with brute force, yanking him close until their faces were inches apart.
"You think you have a choice?" Nolan hissed, his voice low and lethal. "I made you.You will do what I tell you to do. Today. Tomorrow. Until your last breath."
Adrian's breath hitched, not from fear—but from the weight of every wound his father's words had carved into him over the years.
"You will become what I demand you to be," Nolan continued, teeth clenched. "Even if I have to break you to make it happen."
Adrian's hands slowly rose and pried Nolan's fingers off his collar one by one. He wasn't a child anymore. He wouldn't cower. Not this time.
"Then break me," Adrian said, voice barely above a whisper—but laced with steel. "Because I'd rather be broken and free… than whole and owned by you."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final.
And for the first time, Nolan Blackwood had no immediate response.
Vivienne's lips parted in shock, but no words came out. Her son had just drawn a line in the sand—and this time, it didn't look like he would back down.
Adrian took one last look at the two people who had raised him in golden cages and walked away, leaving behind the shattered porcelain, the crushed dreams, and the chains that had bound him all his life.
_______________
Silas entered the mansion, his sharp eyes scanning the hallway with quiet suspicion. The silence was unsettling. Too calm. Too… normal.
Everything appeared untouched.Huh. That's strange.
Still not letting his guard down, he turned to the nearest maid who immediately straightened, almost as if bracing for impact. Her hands clutched her apron like a lifeline.
"Y-Yes, sir?" she stammered, trying to hold his gaze.
"Is Avy— I mean, is my wife home?" Silas asked, glancing around as if Avery might leap out from behind the curtains wielding a water gun filled with glitter.
The maid gulped before responding in a hushed, fearful tone. "Ma'am is in her room, sir. But she has strictly instructed us not to disturb her for any reason."
That made Silas raise an eyebrow. Not to be disturbed? Since when did she ever need privacy to plot mayhem?
"You may go," he said, waving her off with a thoughtful nod. As she bolted away like a freed prisoner, he narrowed his eyes at the ceiling. What are you up to, Avy?
He made his way upstairs, tossing his bag and coat on the console table, and approached her room like a spy approaching enemy territory. The door, to his immense luck—or misfortune—was open.
He debated sneaking in for all of three seconds.
Bad idea. Very bad idea. Avery's temper isn't cute when she catches you invading her space.
Just as he was about to back off, the door creaked open fully—and there she was. Avery stood with her arms folded, her silhouette backlit by the soft glow of her vanity mirror, eyebrow arched in full drama mode.
"How unethical of you to eavesdrop at my door, Mr. Blackwood," she said, voice syrupy with sarcasm.
Silas froze. "I wasn't! I was just trying to know … umm going to my room."
Avery's smirk deepened. "Your room is that way," she said, casually tilting her chin in the opposite direction. "Mr. Blackwood."
He crossed his arms, trying to look smug and failing miserably. "Think whatever you want. I have to shower."
With a grumble and a flick of his wrist, he grabbed his coat and bag and made his very strategic retreat.
Avery waited until he disappeared behind his bedroom door before a slow smile curled on her lips. He was going to take a shower, everything was going so smooth .Her trap had been set. Now let's see how brave he really is.
______
Inside the bathroom, Silas unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders, tossing it lazily onto the counter. The mirror reflected his chiseled physique—smooth, tan skin stretched over lean muscles, every ridge and dip sculpted from years of discipline. His abs tightened as he moved, his broad chest rising and falling with a calm breath. The bathroom's faint glow coiled around him softening his silhouette like the opening scene of a collage romance.
Just as his fingers touched the buckle of his belt, a strange sound echoed in the space.
Meow.
Silas froze.
He turned around slowly, praying to every higher power that he was imagining things. No. She wouldn't. She couldn't.
But she had.
Right there, perched by the bathroom door, sat a chubby white cat. Its round face and plump body didn't match its intense stare, which was fixed directly on Silas like it had a personal vendetta.
Silas blinked. The cat blinked back.
And then it took a step forward.
"NOPE!" Silas didn't even wait. He bolted out of the bathroom like he'd just seen a ghost, tripping slightly on the rug and grabbing the door handle to keep himself from falling.
He burst into the bedroom, barefoot and half-naked.
And there she was.
Avery.
Leaning against the dresser, her phone in hand and her other hand over her mouth, trembling with effort as she tried not to burst out laughing. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her shoulders shook with silent laughter.
"You... you did it?" Silas gasped, clutching his waist trying to get a breath. "You brought a cat into my bathroom?!"
"I had to," she choked out, laughter spilling from her lips. "You underestimated me again, Mr. Blackwood."
Before he could respond, the cat emerged from the bathroom. Like a fluffy little predator. It marched toward Silas with the confidence of a war general. Its eyes narrowed, tail upright like a tiny white banner of destruction.
Silas backed up instinctively. Two steps forward from the cat. Two steps back from Silas.
It was a slow, humiliating chase. The cat advanced like it knew it was in charge, while Silas looked like a cornered gladiator being hunted by an adorable furball.
Avery couldn't hold it in anymore. She laughed—really laughed—her body folding over as she clutched her stomach. "Oh my god, this is priceless. I'm never deleting this video."
Her phone stayed up, catching every second of Silas's retreat.
Silas shot her a glare, but there was no fire behind it. Just sheer embarrassment. And maybe, just maybe, admiration.
He stopped retreating and turned fully toward her, the glint in his eyes shifting from panic to something darker. More playful. More... dangerous.
Avery's laughter began to slow. Her phone lowered slightly. She recognized that look.
"Come on, honey," Silas said, brushing past the cat like it wasn't there anymore.