Chapter 78
2134words
Lucian Sinclair Estate | Dining Area
“Sit and eat with us, Maxim,” Lucian said, gesturing toward the long dining table.
Maxim smiled warmly and shook his head. “No need. I’ll just have coffee.”
But Lucian was already pushing his chair back. “Then take mine.”
Before Maxim could protest, Sebastian stood as well, quietly sliding out of his place so Lucian could settle into the newly vacated seat. The movement was seamless, practiced even, but not without weight. It left Maxim sitting at the head of the table, while Lucian shifted beside Kristina.
Conversation resumed, though lighter now, deliberately polite. The clink of silverware against porcelain filled the silence that words couldn’t bridge. Maxim let his gaze drift across the table — Kristina’s lowered eyes, Eli’s tightened jaw, the stiff posture of Ash and Vex, Sebastian watching but carefully unreadable.
Something was off.
He leaned back in Lucian’s chair, fingers curling around the coffee cup that had been set before him. “Is something wrong?” he asked finally, voice mild but curious. “Why do you all look like you’re hiding something from me?”
The question hung in the air. No one answered. Not at first.
Then Kristina exhaled and glanced up, her voice quiet but steady. “Umm… Papa… nothing’s wrong, but…” She hesitated, glancing at Eli and Lucian before returning to Maxim. “Can we talk later?”
Maxim studied her — the faint tremor in her hands, the guarded look in her eyes, the strange current of silence that ran between her, Eli, and Lucian. He noticed it all. Still, his smile softened, genuine, almost protective.
“Of course,” he said simply.
Lucian Sinclair Estate | Lucian’s Study
The fire in Lucian’s study burned low, its crackle the only sound before Kristina spoke. She sat on the edge of the leather chair, hands clasped too tightly in her lap, eyes darting between Maxim and the two men who flanked her.
“Papa…” Her voice trembled at first, then steadied. “There’s something I need to tell you. About me. About Eli. About Lucian.”
Maxim leaned back in the chair opposite, his face unreadable, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him. “Go on.”
Kristina drew in a breath. “I love them. Both of them.” Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out. “And they love me.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The fire popped once, sharp in the stillness. Maxim’s expression shifted—first confusion, then disbelief, then something heavier, harder to name. His brows drew together, his mouth opening as if to speak, then shutting again.
“You mean to say…” He paused, his gaze flicking from Eli to Lucian, then back to Kristina. “…this is not a passing mistake. This is a choice?”
“Yes,” Kristina whispered. Her eyes burned, but she refused to look away. “I choose them. Every day. And they choose me.”
Eli’s shoulders stiffened, ready for Maxim’s judgment. Lucian, by contrast, sat composed, though his eyes stayed fixed on Maxim — watchful, unflinching.
Maxim exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. He did not raise his voice. He did not lash out. Instead, his silence pressed down heavier than any outburst might have. Finally, he spoke, voice low and weighted.
“Kristina…” His eyes softened briefly, though pain lingered underneath. “You cannot possibly believe this… arrangement will end well.”
“I don’t care if the world doesn’t understand,” she answered, her voice breaking but sure. “I only care that you do.”
His mask slipped again, just for a heartbeat. Shock still colored his features, but behind it was a quiet ache, the look of a man who’d never expected this of her. He turned toward the fire, as though searching for words in its glow, then finally looked back at her.
“You are my daughter. I have always wanted to protect you.” His tone remained calm, but steel edged every syllable. “And now… I don’t know if I can.”
The words cut, but Kristina rose to her feet, refusing to shrink. “I don’t need protection. I need your trust. Please, Papa. See us for what we are — not what you fear.”
Maxim’s lips parted, as if to argue, but instead he let the silence stand. His gaze lingered on her face, searching, wrestling, before he finally said, “Kristina. Step outside, please.”
She froze. “Papa—”
“Please.” His voice softened, but the command in it was unmistakable.
Kristina hesitated, her eyes darting to Lucian, then to Eli.
Lucian reached for her hand briefly, steady. “Go. It’s all right.”
Eli gave a small nod, reassuring. “We’ll be here.”
Her throat tightened with words she couldn’t give voice to. Slowly, reluctantly, she moved toward the door. The click of it closing was louder than the fire’s crackle. For a breath, Maxim watched the door, his expression unreadable. Then he turned back, his gaze hardening into something sharper.
“You let this happen?” His words cut across the study, directed at Lucian first. His tone was not raised, but it carried the weight of disappointment, even anger.
Lucian did not flinch. “I didn’t let it happen, Maxim. It wasn’t permission she needed. It was her choice—and mine.”
Maxim’s jaw tightened. He shifted his gaze to Eli, a glare that felt like a strike. “And you—why entangle yourself in something already bound? You knew what they had. Why step into it?”
Eli leaned forward, his voice steady though there was tension in the set of his shoulders. “Because it wasn’t only theirs anymore. It became mine too. I didn’t force my way in. She chose me as much as I chose her.”
Maxim’s eyes narrowed, measuring him. “You expect me to believe this isn’t reckless? That this isn’t doomed to end in ruin?”
Lucian’s answer came firm, unyielding. “You think I haven’t asked myself the same? But the truth is—we’re not breaking. We’re stronger for it. She’s stronger for it.”
Eli’s tone softened, but no less resolute. “If you’re questioning whether I’d ever hurt her—the answer is no. Never. Whatever this looks like from the outside, it’s not confusion. It’s commitment. To her. To us.”
For the first time, Maxim’s glare faltered.
Maxim leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, his stare flicking between the two men like he was dissecting them.
“You speak of strength,” he said, his voice cool, “but strength is tested in silence, in jealousy, in the long nights when she is with one of you and not the other. Tell me—” his eyes cut to Lucian, “—when it is Eli’s arms she seeks, do you still call it strength? Or does it gnaw at you in ways you won’t admit?”
Lucian’s jaw clenched, but he did not look away. “I’ve known jealousy all my life, Maxim. It’s not weakness to feel it—it’s weakness to let it rule you. What gnaws at me isn’t losing her for a night. It’s losing her trust forever. And that,” he leaned forward slightly, voice low, “I will never allow.”
Maxim’s gaze shifted, piercing Eli. “And you? You stepped into the shadow of a man who already had her. What happens when his claim eclipses yours? Do you bow, or do you fight until she breaks beneath the weight of it?”
Eli’s lips curved into something that was not quite a smile. “You think I’m here to compete with him. I’m not. I’m here because she wanted me here. And if the day comes when she no longer does, I’ll walk away before I let her break. But until then—” he glanced at Lucian, then back to Maxim, “—I stand beside him, not against him.”
A beat of silence stretched, heavy as iron.
Maxim studied them both, his glare softening only a fraction. “Two men bound to one woman—it should be chaos.. And yet…” He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “You speak as if it’s order.”
Lucian answered without hesitation. “Because it is. For her. For us.”
Eli added, his voice steady, “You don’t have to understand it, Maxim. Just believe that none of us would let her fall.”
Maxim’s eyes narrowed, his tone sharpening.
“You think love is enough? That certainty alone will shield her when the world tears into this arrangement? People will whisper. They will whisper louder when they see her with both of you. They’ll call her weak, desperate—or worse. And when the storm comes…” his gaze cut between them, hard and unrelenting, “…will either of you still stand, or will you turn on each other the moment she falters?”
The words landed heavy, like a blade dropped on the table.
Lucian didn’t flinch. His voice was steady, iron.
“Let them whisper. The world has judged me all my life—I’ve survived worse. What matters is her safety, not strangers’ approval. I don’t bend to outside noise.”
Eli leaned forward, shoulders taut, his tone lower but edged with fire.
“And if the storm comes, Maxim, it won’t break us—it’ll break against us. Because we’ve already chosen this. We’ve chosen her. And we’re not turning back.”
Silence pressed in after Eli’s words. Maxim’s jaw tightened, unreadable, eyes shifting between them. For a long moment, the only sound was the faint crackle of the fireplace.
At last, Maxim exhaled—measured, reluctant.
“…You speak with certainty,” he admitted, voice quieter but no less sharp. “For her sake, I hope it is not just conviction. Because if either of you falter, it will not be her who pays first. It will be you.”
Maxim’s stare lingered, unblinking. Then, slowly, his head tilted, the firelight catching in his eyes.
“Conviction is a fine thing,” he said, voice quiet but weighted, “but it does not erase imbalance. One of you holds more power—money, influence, years of loyalty. Do you truly believe that won’t tip the scales? Do you think it will not poison the foundation beneath her feet?”
The question hung like smoke in the air.
Eli answered first, his voice steady, controlled but fierce at the edges.
“Power doesn’t decide this—she does. I didn’t step into this to kneel, and I didn’t come here to overthrow him either. What I have with her isn’t smaller because he has more wealth. It’s not submission—it’s freedom. I stand because she asked me to stand. And I’ll remain because she wants me here.”
Maxim’s eyes shifted to Lucian, his tone hardening.
“And you? You’ve always known she struggles to choose between two paths. Always. Did you use that? Did you allow this because it meant you would never have to face losing her outright?”
Lucian’s expression didn’t waver, though his voice cut clean through the air.
“I didn’t exploit her hesitation. I respected her refusal. She refused to be caged between paths, Maxim. She claimed both. And I let her take it, not because it was easier, but because it was honest. You see weakness in her indecision—I see strength in her defiance. She refused to play by rules written by someone else.”
Maxim’s mouth pressed into a line, disapproval shadowing his features.
“So you expect me to call this love? To respect it as if it were anything but indulgence? Two men sharing one woman—it dishonors her by splitting her heart in two.”
Lucian leaned forward, his voice sharpened with defiance.
“Love doesn’t bend to your definition. You think it’s indulgence? I say it’s discipline. I say it’s choice. She is not divided, Maxim—she is whole. And she is stronger for it.”
Eli added, his voice firm but unwavering.
“We don’t dishonor her—we honor her by protecting her happiness, by refusing to force her into a choice she never wanted. This isn’t appetite. It’s freedom. And the world doesn’t get a say in it—not in her life, not in ours.”
The room held its breath, as if the walls themselves waited for someone to break. The fire hissed and popped in the grate, the only sound in the heavy air. Maxim leaned back in his chair with deliberate ease, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
“You’ve given me answers about love. About choice. About standing through storms.” His tone was measured now—too calm, as though calmness itself was a blade. “But love is easy to declare when no one asks for proof. Words are weightless. Promises even more so. And when the world demands something heavier than sentiment…” He let the words hang, heavy with implication.
The fire cracked again, sharp as punctuation. Then silence, waiting for his words. Maxim’s eyes shifted between them with surgical precision, as though stripping away any defense they might raise.
“Tell me this, then—” his voice dropped, quiet but cutting, each syllable leaving no room to escape.
“…what about marriage?”
The word lingered in the air like a verdict, heavier than any promise they had spoken.
Conviction can shield a heart, but only vows test its endurance.
—To be continued.
