The air at their table grew so thick with tension it was suffocating.
Steven Cohen's voice, a silken thread of mockery laced with pure venom, had
frozen the very atmosphere.
Silas met his gaze head-on, his own eyes like chips of obsidian, cool
and impenetrable. He regarded Steven not with anger, but with the detached
contempt of a man watching a pitiful performance.
Elara's lips pressed into a thin, white line. She glared at him, her
fingers itching to silence that poisonous mouth forever.
Julian's dark eyes flickered imperceptibly toward Silas before he
lowered his lashes, a storm brewing behind his carefully neutral mask.
Vivian, utterly lost in the undercurrents, shot Julian several confused
and startled glances. Who was this man, and what was his connection to her
husband?
Steven's sharp eyes caught her look. He tilted his head, a ghost of a
smile playing on his lips. "And this must be Julian's new bride. I hear
congratulations are in order. A baby on the way… how… domestic."
Caught staring, Vivian flushed, then quickly forced a coy smile. "Y-yes.
I'm Vivian. And you are…?"
Steven arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his gaze never leaving
Julian. "Julian. It's been years. Can you not even call me 'Uncle'?"
The deliberate snub made Vivian's smile stiffen and die.
Julian's heart hammered against his ribs. Uncle. The word stuck in his
throat, a betrayal waiting to happen. How could he say it in front of Silas?
"Julian."
Silas's voice cut through the silence, cool and authoritative. "Address him."
All eyes swivelled to him. He lounged in his chair, the picture of
relaxed dominance, one hand idly turning a porcelain teacup on the table. His
deep, unreadable eyes were fixed on Steven, as if humouring a tantrum-throwing
child.
The smile vanished from Steven's face, his narrowed eyes crinkling with
suppressed rage.
"…Uncle."
Julian's voice was flat, hollow. He was a puppet, and Silas held the strings.
A muscle twitched in Steven's jaw. "So obedient to your father," he
sneered, the words dripping with contempt. "The apple doesn't fall far, does
it?"
A violent, uncontrollable tremor ran through him. His hand shook
slightly. The hulking bodyguard behind him, attuned to his every shift in mood,
immediately stepped forward and poured a glass of water. Steven snatched it and
drained it in one gulp.
In the ringing silence that followed, Silas's voice was deceptively
soft, yet it landed like a thunderclap.
"Is he truly
my seed?"
The question hung in the air, sucking the oxygen from the room.
Elara's head snapped toward him, surprised he had launched the first
true missile.
Julian's face lost all colour. His hands clenched into white-knuckled
fists on his lap, the plaster cast feeling suddenly like a cage.
Vivian's heart stuttered. What does that mean? What is happening?
Steven Cohen shot to his feet, his palms slamming down on the table with
a crack that made the china rattle. He leaned forward, his bloodshot eyes
burning with a decade of festering hatred.
"Silas! Are
you even human? How can you say that?" he roared, his voice trembling with
fury. "Why did Elora Cohen have your child? Don't you fucking know why?"
His face twisted into a grotesque mask of grief and rage.
Julian's mind reeled, a vortex of chaos. His dark, desperate eyes were
locked on Silas's impassive face. Is this it? The moment all the secrets come
out? A bitter, silent laugh echoed in his soul. He'd always thought he was
destiny's favourite, but now he's just a bastard of unknown parentage?
The commotion had drawn stares from across the hall.
Old Mr. Hudson, who had been watching them like a hawk, saw the
situation escalating. His expression darkened, and he hurried over, attempting
to pour oil on troubled waters.
"Steven, let's all be civil. Can't we discuss this calmly? Do an
old man a favour."
"What favour?" Steven spat, violently shrugging off the hand on his
shoulder. "What favour could a walking corpse like you possibly be owed?"
Charles Hudson, a pillar of Oakhaven society, was rendered speechless.
Humiliation burned hot on his aged cheeks, his expression turning thunderous.
"Steven Cohen, if you insist on causing a scene, you will be removed—"
His threat died in his throat.
The cold, hard circle of a gun barrel pressed into the small of his
back, wielded by Steven's ever-watchful bodyguard.
From her angle, Vivian saw the sinister glint of metal. A terrified gasp
escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Steven shot her a look that could freeze hell over. She slapped a hand
over her mouth and shrank against Julian, trembling.
"You relic,"
Steven sneered, reaching out to pat Charles Hudson's cheek with insulting
familiarity. "I'm only here as a courtesy. I'm borrowing your party to settle a
debt with Silas. You don't mind, do you?"
Charles Hudson's face was a ghastly shade of grey. Heaving with ragged
breaths, he turned a helpless look toward Silas, who still sat, unmovable.
"Silas?"
"Do as he
says," Silas replied, his voice calm. He then turned to Elara, his gaze
softening a fraction as he found her worried eyes. He gave her hand a firm,
reassuring squeeze.
"Wait here
for me."
"Yes, I
understand. Go with peace of mind." Elara nodded, her beautiful features set
with determined composure. She understood the unspoken command: Stay where it's
safe, where Brooke can watch you.
Silas held her gaze for a long moment, then finally rose to his full
height, a king acknowledging a challenger.
Steven watched their intimate exchange, a strange, bitter smirk twisting
his lips. Tsk. If Elora could see how tenderly he dotes on this girl… it would
shatter what's left of her soul.
"I'm coming
too."
As Charles Hudson moved to lead the two men away, Julian stood abruptly,
his jaw set, his eyes blazing with a desperate resolve.
"I am a
party to this matter, am I not? I have the right to know everything."
Steven let out a short, humourless laugh. "By all means, come along.
You're about to learn all about your father's… good deeds."
Elara watched the three of them—the father, the son, and the ghost from
the past—disappear through a side door, her expression grave. The table was now
left with her, a terrified Vivian, and Brooke, a silent, vigilant sentinel at
their backs.
Vivian, feeling exposed and frightened, bit her lip and thought about
moving closer to Elara for some semblance of protection. But the moment she
shifted, a cold, warning stare from the bodyguard rooted her to the spot. She
sank back into her chair, utterly alone in the crowded room.
The Hudson family worked quickly to smooth over the disruption, and the
christening banquet slowly regained its forced merriment.
But Elara's eyes were fixed on the dark, empty window, the lit lawn
beyond. A cold dread, sharp and insistent, coiled in her stomach. Tonight is
far from over.
In a soundproofed study on the third floor, the burly guard stood post
outside as Charles Hudson ushered the three men in.
"Settle your
business here and be quick about it," Charles said coldly. "Steven, I'm warning
you—do not overstep. This is still my house."
With that, he turned on his heel and left, the door clicking shut with
an air of finality.
Before Julian could even process the change of scene, Silas moved.
It wasn't a brawl; it was an execution. His fist, hard as iron, shot out
and connected with Steven's jaw with a sickening crunch.
"That,"
Silas said, his voice dangerously low, "is for frightening my wife on the
cruise ship."
Thud! Steven staggered back from the force, caught completely off guard.
Julian's heart leaped into his throat, and he instinctively took a step
back, his own injuries suddenly feeling very vulnerable.
In his blurring vision, Steven let out a low, animalistic hiss. He
pressed his tongue against his split cheek, then roughly wiped the blood from
the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Heh," he
chuckled, a dark, unhinged sound. "So protective. Who knew a new wife could
tame the great Silas Thorne?"
The words were barely out before he launched himself at Silas, a
predator unleashed. His face, pale and twisted with a grief that had festered
for years, was a mask of pure fury.
"HOW COULD
YOU LOVE ANYONE BUT ELORA?" he roared, his voice cracking with the strain.
"EVEN IN HER GRAVE, YOU OWE HER YOUR LOYALTY!"