"Will you be okay here?" Riven crouched beside Lior, who was curled on the office sofa, toy airplane clutched tight.
It was early—before the staff swarmed in, before the lobby filled with dignitaries and cameras. Today was Nexus's public exhibition. Riven had brought Lior along as if it were any other morning, a small rebellion against the weight of secrecy. His son, here, in the heart of the empire no one could know he had.
"Stay here," Riven whispered, brushing his hand through Lior's hair. His chest tightened. My greatest secret, sitting in plain sight, smiling like he belongs.
A knock. Sharp. Too loud in the quiet.
Riven froze, then straightened, moving to the door and opening it only a sliver—like a thief guarding stolen treasure.
"Eli," he breathed.
At the name, Lior's toy plane halted mid-air. His gaze flicked to the door, sharp and alert.
"I saw you come in," Eli said, voice low, almost conspiratorial. "Thought maybe you hadn't eaten." He lifted a container, unassuming, almost tender. "Sandwiches."
Riven blinked. Always one step ahead. How does he do that?
They hadn't eaten. He'd shoved milk into Lior's hands before rushing out, desperate to beat the morning surge of employees.
"No one saw you," Eli added, eyes steady behind fogged glasses. "Just me."
The words should have calmed him, but there was weight beneath them—like a promise, or a threat.
Riven exhaled, shoulders loosening. "Thanks," he murmured. "Sorry. I just—"
"You don't have to explain," Eli said. Gentle. Certain. Like he already knew every word Riven wouldn't say.
Riven looked at him then. Collar buttoned too high, lenses still misted, container balanced in his hands as if it were sacred. Always arriving like this—quiet, precise, never asking for more than Riven could give.
And still, he lingered. Always close enough to help. Always close enough to see too much.
Riven hated how much it mattered. How much Eli mattered. Especially today, when a single wrong glance could unravel everything.
"I'm always scared someone will find out," Riven admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "An S-Class Alpha with a son… unbonded. It's not exactly something the world forgives."
Eli's gaze softened, but there was something unreadable beneath it. "Then let me be the one who doesn't ask questions. Just… stays."
The words should have eased him. Instead, Riven felt the weight of them press against his chest—like an offer and a claim at once.
Before he could respond, Lior stirred on the sofa. "Papa," the boy called, slipping off the cushions and padding over, toy airplane clutched like a shield. His eyes flicked between the two men, sharp with suspicion.
Eli smiled, careful not to move closer. Riven placed a steadying hand on his son's shoulder, grounding them both.
"Come in," he said at last, stepping aside.
Eli entered quietly, setting the container on the desk. No fuss, no flourish—just presence. But the room shifted all the same, like he'd let in more than the morning air.
"Good morning," Eli said, offering Lior a small wave.
Lior huffed, chin tipping away, gaze fixed stubbornly on the far wall. The silent verdict was clear.
"He hates me," Eli murmured, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.
"No," Riven said quickly, crouching beside his son. "He's just careful with strangers. Especially ones who bring sandwiches."
He brushed Lior's hair back, coaxing him to look up. "Hey, that was rude, hm? He's a friend. And he thought of us when Papa forgot breakfast—again."
Lior peeked at Eli, wary eyes narrowing. Eli lifted the food container a little, smiling like he was offering peace—or bait.
Riven's pulse ticked faster. This was reckless. But necessary. The exhibition meant eyes everywhere. He couldn't keep Lior locked in his office all day.
"Guess what," he said lightly, though the words scraped in his throat. "Since Papa's busy with the event… big brother here offered to give you a tour. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
He tried to make it playful, but the decision cut deep. Entrusting Lior to someone else—entrusting him to Eli—was a gamble he had no choice but to take.
He looked at Eli, hope edged with unease. "Is that okay?"
Eli's smile deepened, warm as ever. But his answer carried a quiet finality. "Of course. I've already handled the conference prep. Thayer can manage the rest." His eyes lingered a fraction too long. "I'm all yours."
Riven exhaled, relief and dread tangling in his chest. "Thanks," he murmured, though the word felt thinner than he meant.
"What do you think?" he asked Lior, nudging him gently.
Instead of answering, Lior leaned in and whispered something in his papa's ear. Riven chuckled, and Eli caught the curve of a smile forming on the boy's lips.
"He wants to check if he'll like your sandwich first," Riven said, standing and turning to Eli with a grin.
Eli laughed. "Fair enough."
He walked over and placed the container on the desk, then opened it slowly, revealing a stack of neatly wrapped sandwiches—soft bread, creamy filling, and a hint of strawberry jam peeking out.
Lior's eyes widened. His toy plane dropped to the floor. And Eli swore he saw the tiniest flicker of approval in those slate-grey eyes.
"Looks like I passed the first test," Eli murmured, glancing at Riven.
Riven smiled, and for a moment, the tension between them melted into something quieter. Something warmer. Something that felt like the beginning of trust.
"Mr. Virellian—"
Thayer's voice sliced through the quiet. The door opened, and Riven's heart lurched.
He turned, breath stalling in his chest. Lior was in plain view—sandwich half-raised, crumbs on his lips, eyes wide like a cornered animal. Too late to hide him. Too late to pretend.
Thayer froze at the threshold. His gaze swept the room—Riven first, then the boy, then Eli standing far too close, container still on the desk like evidence of some private domestic scene.
For one beat, no one moved. The air pressed down, thick with the weight of a secret breaking open.
Eli's expression shifted, slow and deliberate. Not guilty. Not surprised. Protective. His body angled just slightly, like he was positioning himself between Riven and the world.
Riven forced his throat to work. "Is… something wrong?" His voice came out thinner than he wanted.
Thayer blinked, his silence a blade. Then he cleared his throat, smoothing his expression. "No. Apologies. I only came to tell you—the lobby is filling. Guests are arriving."
A pause. Too long. His eyes lingered on Lior. Measuring. Deciding.
Then, at last, a small smile. Too practiced to be entirely reassuring. "The Emperor might even be pleased. A family face makes the company look… human."
Thayer's eyes flicked toward Eli, then back to Riven. His tone was steady, deliberate.
"Me and the Chairman—we know about your son. And we'll keep it quiet. For now."
The pause lingered like a hook. A promise. A warning.
Riven exhaled, tension loosening in her shoulders, but not disappearing. Of course the Chairman had known all along. The condo's private playground, the way the appointment had come without hesitation—it all made sense now. They hadn't overlooked her scandal. They had calculated it, chosen him in spite of it. Or maybe because of it.
But today was different. Today he wouldn't be a rumor or a secret.
He would stand in front of the world, announced as Nexus's new CEO. Broadcasted. Scrutinized. Unavoidable. And he knew exactly whose eyes would be watching.
His family.
His brother.
The empire that cast her out.
He'd steeled himself for that moment—for whispers, for fallout. But when he glanced at Lior, still chewing slowly, eyes wide and alert, and then at Eli, who hadn't shifted from his side, something broke through the steel. he wasn't alone anymore.
"I'll take care of him," Eli said suddenly, quiet but unwavering, his gaze cutting through the space between them.
Riven crouched beside Lior, brushing his hair back with a steady hand. "I'll leave you with big brother for a while, okay?" he murmured, soft but firm.
Lior nodded, lips tugging upward in a shy half-smile.
Riven's chest tightened. He stood, met Eli's eyes for a beat longer than he meant to, then followed Thayer out. The door clicked shut, sealing he son and his secret in Eli's care.
The silence stretched. Eli turned slowly toward Lior.
"So," he said, a smile tugging faintly at his mouth. "Where do you want to go first?"
Lior didn't answer. He set the sandwich back in its container and looked straight at him. His voice was small, but steady.
"You're pretending."
Eli stilled, surprised—but not. Of course Riven's son would notice. Of course he'd see through the careful layers.
"You're right," Eli said quietly. He slipped off his glasses, setting them aside with precision. His eyes, freed from the blur, were sharper than Lior expected. Steadier. "I don't need to pretend with you. But for your papa's sake—we keep this between us."
He crouched, lowering himself to Lior's level. His smile was calm, almost tender. But something colder flickered beneath.
"I'm not your enemy, Lior. I want what you want. To protect him."
He held out a pinky. Not a joke, not casual. A promise offered in a gesture he knew meant everything.
Lior froze. That was his and Papa's code. Their private seal. For Eli to use it felt like an intrusion. A trespass.
"I'll protect Papa," Lior said at last, eyes narrowing. "Even from you."
Only then did he hook his pinky around Eli's, firm and unyielding.
Eli's mouth curved, satisfaction sparking in his gaze.
"Fair enough," he murmured. "But I'm also very good at protecting. You'll see."
Lior tilted his head, scrutinizing him with unnerving focus.
"We'll see," he echoed.
The air between them sharpened. A pact sealed, not in trust but in collision—two guardians circling the same prize.