Collide Into Ruin

Chapter 50 A Seat at the Table

Henry was on the verge of completely forgetting about the world—because right now, the only thing that mattered was Emilia. Her lips moved against his, soft and teasing, as her fingers threaded through his hair. His hands slid over her waist, pulling her in until there wasn't a breath of space between them. The warmth of her, the way she tasted—he was gone.

And then—

His phone buzzed. Loud. Obnoxious. Unforgiving.

Henry ignored it. He was busy.

Emilia, curled against him on the couch, let out a quiet laugh, her head resting on his chest. "You gonna get that?"

"No," he said without hesitation, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"It's buzzing like crazy."

"I'm aware." His hand wandered up her back, fingers skimming beneath the hem of her sweater. "Whoever it is can wait."

She lifted her head, smirking. "What if it's important?"

"It's probably Jason," Henry muttered. "He's never important."

"Henry James Kingsley," she gasped, feigning scandal. "You can't just ignore your brother."

"Watch me."

The phone finally went silent. Henry exhaled, victorious—

Until it started up again.

Emilia laughed, untangling herself from him just enough to grab the phone off the coffee table. She glanced at the screen and her face lit up with pure, unfiltered mischief.

"It's not Jason," she said, eyes dancing. "It's your mom."

Henry groaned. "You wouldn't dare."

Her finger hovered over the screen. "I'm just curious."

"Emilia."

She grinned and hit accept. "Hi, Linda!"

Henry let his head fall back against the couch in utter defeat.

"Emilia, sweetheart!" Linda's warm, delighted voice came through the speaker. "I was hoping you'd pick up."

Henry cracked one eye open. "Wow. Betrayed by my own girlfriend."

"Betrayal is such a strong word," Emilia mused, handing him the phone.

Linda, as expected, got straight to business. "Henry James Kingsley, are you and Emilia coming to the suite for dinner tonight?"

Henry scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yes, Mom."

"Good. And don't be late."

Henry smirked. "Define late."

"Henry."

"Fine, fine. We'll be there."

"Wonderful. Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too, Mom."

As soon as he hung up, Emilia stretched across his lap, beaming. "We're going to dinner."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"You heard her," Emilia teased. "I was personally invited."

Henry smirked. "Careful, Emilia. Keep acting like part of the family, and I might make it official."

She arched an eyebrow. "Might?"

His eyes darkened playfully. "Oh, I plan on changing your last name very soon."

Emilia's heart did an embarrassingly enthusiastic flip. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Henry murmured, brushing his thumb along her jaw.

She grinned. "Guess I'll have to keep impressing your mom, then."

"Emilia, you already have."

_______________________________

By the time Henry and Emilia arrived, the suite was already alive with chatter, laughter, and enough food to feed a football team. The air smelled of rosemary, butter, and the inevitable chaos of a Kingsley family dinner.

"Finally!" Jason threw up his hands dramatically as they walked in. "Thought you were skipping out."

"Mom would've sent a search party," Henry said.

"Correct," Linda confirmed from her seat at the head of the table without missing a beat.

Jason turned to Emilia with exaggerated relief. "Thank God you're here. Save me from Beau's endless TED Talk on the correct texture of mashed potatoes."

Beau huffed. "It's not a TED Talk. I was merely explaining that the ideal consistency—"

"Beau, buddy," Jason cut him off. "No one cares."

"I care," Elias muttered as he set down his wine.

Jason pointed. "You don't count."

Beau sighed, utterly unimpressed. "It's not my fault you have the palate of a raccoon."

Jason scoffed. "I have excellent taste."

"You think a cat wearing sunglasses is your spiritual advisor."

Jason grinned. "Yeah, and he's been right so far."

"God help us all," Henry muttered, steering Emilia toward a seat before this could escalate.

Linda smiled warmly at Emilia. "I'm so glad you two could make it."

"Wouldn't miss it," Emilia said genuinely.

Jason leaned toward her. "Brave of you to say that before Beau starts his annual rant about the Brussels sprouts."

"They weren't roasted properly last time," Beau said, voice grave.

Jason sighed like a man who had suffered greatly. "And you wonder why we drink."

Henry glanced at Emilia, lips twitching. "Still sure about this?"

She squeezed his hand, grinning. "I come from a family that once argued for three hours about the right way to load a dishwasher. This is nothing."

Jason's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, but what is the right way?"

"There isn't one," Emilia said with a straight face.

Jason whistled. "You're dangerous."

Beau looked personally offended. "That's chaos."

Jason smirked. "I like her more already."

Henry's fingers tightened around Emilia's. Across the table, his mom's knowing smile didn't go unnoticed.

_____________________________________________________

In the private suite, the rest of the Kingsley family was already gathered, waiting for Emilia and Henry to arrive. The scent of delicious food filled the air — roasted chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and garlic bread so fragrant it could probably be classified as a controlled substance. The warm glow of the chandelier bathed the room in a golden light, giving it that perfect cozy-but-somehow-still-fancy vibe.

Beau was busy setting the plates, meticulously aligning them like it was some kind of art form. He crouched down, eye level with the table, adjusting the angle of each fork with the precision of a surgeon.

"Beau, buddy, you do realize we're going to mess those up in about two minutes, right?" Jason teased from across the room, lounging on the couch like he was auditioning to be the face of a luxury furniture ad.

Beau huffed, not looking up from his work. "Presentation matters, Jace. Unlike you, some of us have standards."

Jason gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Wow, a direct attack before dinner? Where's the love?"

"I think the love got lost somewhere between you showing Dad cat videos and him pretending he understands TikTok," Beau chimed in, smirking.

Linda chuckled as she watched her husband, who was squinting at Jason's phone with the concentration of a man trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphs. "Wait, so this dog is... singing?"

"It's autotuned, Dad," Jason explained, suppressing a laugh. "The internet is a beautiful, chaotic place."

"It's a confusing place," Elias countered. "And judging by your For You Page, mildly concerning."

Jason scoffed. "Please, my algorithm is perfectly balanced. A mix of sports, cute animals, and the occasional conspiracy theory."

Beau rolled his eyes. "That is not balanced. That is concerning."

"Okay, but have you ever seen a cat drive a tiny car while wearing sunglasses?" Jason shot back.

Elias sighed. "Sadly, yes. Thanks to you."

Before Jason could fire back, the door opened, and Emilia and Henry finally walked in.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" Elias announced, sitting up straighter.

Linda's face lit up as she took Emilia in, her smile soft and knowing. "You dragged him by the ears, didn't you?"

Emilia grinned. "It was necessary."

Henry pouted. "I feel so betrayed today."

Jason clapped him on the back. "Get used to it, brother. That's marriage for you."

"Okay, first of all," Henry protested, "we're not married yet."

"Second of all," Emilia added, "if we were, I wouldn't drag him by the ears." She smiled sweetly at Henry before leaning toward Jason. "I'd use threats and emotional manipulation like any respectable wife."

Jason beamed. "You're going to fit in just fine."

Henry gave a resigned sigh. "I don't know why I expected support."

Linda, hands on her hips, stepped into the middle of the room. "Alright, everyone, wash up before dinner!"

Jason groaned. "Mom, we're adults."

"And yet you somehow manage to get sauce on your face every time we eat spaghetti," Elias pointed out.

"That was one time!"

"Three times," Beau corrected without looking up from his perfectly aligned plates.

Emilia turned to Linda. "Need help with anything?"

Linda shook her head with a smile. "No, dear. You just sit down and relax. Unless you want to help corral these hooligans, in which case—"

Emilia laughed. "Maybe next time."

Jason stood and stretched. "Fine. I'll go wash my hands. But I'm counting this as emotional labor."

"Yeah, you seem really overburdened," Elias deadpanned.

As the family settled around the table, Henry leaned over to Emilia. "I think they're trying to haze you."

Emilia grinned. "Please. This is nothing. My family once argued for three hours over the correct way to load a dishwasher."

Henry smiled, lacing his fingers through hers beneath the table. "Yeah, but are you ready to debate the correct way to eat mashed potatoes?"

Jason pointed his fork at them. "You don't mix the potatoes and gravy directly! You scoop the gravy into a small indent on top—like a well!"

"Thank you!" Beau exclaimed.

Elias rolled his eyes. "Or you could just eat it however you want."

Jason and Beau both gasped.

"Okay, now you've crossed the line," Jason said.

Henry shook his head and whispered to Emilia, "Are you sure you want to marry into this?"

Emilia smiled. "Absolutely."

Linda smiled fondly as she watched her family — bickering, teasing, laughing — and sat down at the head of the table. "Alright, enough arguing. Let's eat before it gets cold."

Jason leaned over to Elias as they picked up their forks. "So... about that cat video—"

"No," Elias cut him off, but he was smiling.

"But you didn't even let me finish!" Jason protested.

"Because I already know where this is going."

"Do you?" Jason raised an eyebrow. "Because this cat? Plays piano."

Elias groaned. "Of course it does."

Beau shook his head. "It's not impressive unless the cat also reads sheet music."

Jason's eyes widened. "I think I've seen that one."

"Of course you have," Elias muttered, stabbing a piece of chicken.

Henry snorted, leaning toward Emilia. "Should we be concerned that Jason's spiritual advisor seems to be a cat in sunglasses?"

Emilia smiled. "Honestly, I'm more concerned that Elias seems vaguely jealous of the cat."

"I'm not jealous of the cat," Elias said flatly.

Jason smirked. "Sounds like something a jealous person would say."

Linda shook her head, raising her glass. "Enough about the cat. Eat your food."

"Yes, Mom," Jason and Elias said in unison, which only made Beau laugh.

Jason grinned and pointed his fork at Beau. "Don't laugh. You're one bad day away from watching cat videos with me."

Beau scoffed. "Please. I have standards."

Jason's eyes gleamed. "And yet I have a video of you watching that hamster eating a tiny burrito."

Beau's fork froze mid-air. "That was research."

"Research?" Elias repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes." Beau lifted his chin. "Into the complex relationship between animals and human-designed foods."

Jason beamed. "You're literally describing the comments section."

"I don't read the comments section," Beau said.

"Ah, so you admit you watched the video," Jason shot back.

Beau's mouth opened and closed. He settled for a dignified sip of his water.

Henry leaned toward Emilia. "This is a lot, right?"

Emilia smiled, shaking her head.

"You get used to it."

"Or you learn to disassociate mid-conversation," Elias added, swirling his wine glass.

"Hey, speaking of trauma—" Jason began.

"Nope," Elias cut him off. "Absolutely not."

"—remember when Mom tried to teach us how to bake cookies?"

Linda's hand shot up. "That was not my fault."

Jason pointed his fork accusingly. "You used salt instead of sugar."

"It was an accident!" Linda protested.

"You nearly killed us!" Jason shot back.

Henry leaned toward Emilia. "Is this a normal dinner for them?"

Emilia grinned. "Completely normal."

"It builds character," Elias added dryly.

"It builds trust issues," Jason countered.

"Alright, enough," Linda said, though she was smiling. "If you're going to accuse me of attempted poisoning, at least finish your vegetables first."

Jason groaned, eyeing the roasted Brussels sprouts like they were a personal betrayal. "Mom..."

"No complaints," Linda said, cutting him off. "You're thirty-two years old. Eat the sprouts."

"I am a grown man," Jason argued.

"And yet you've had pizza rolls for dinner three times this week," Elias pointed out.

Jason gasped. "That is confidential information!"

"Emilia," Elias said, deadpan. "Run now. There's still time."

Em laughed. "Too late. I'm in too deep."

"Yeah, you're doomed," Elias confirmed.

Jason leaned toward Em, grinning. "The only way out is to fake your own death."

"Jason!" Linda scolded.

Emilia chuckled, wrapping an arm around Henry's shoulder. "I think I'll stick it out."

Jason shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Henry smiled, resting his head against Emily's shoulder. "Welcome to the family."

Em squeezed his hand. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Okay, okay," Linda said, standing up and clinking her glass. "Enough roasting each other — for now. Let's enjoy this meal."

"To Mom's questionable baking skills," Jason toasted, raising his glass.

"To Jason's underdeveloped palate," Beau countered.

"To Elias's inability to experience joy," Jason added.

"To Beau's inability to admit he liked the hamster video," Elias shot back.

"To Emilia, for voluntarily choosing this chaos," Henry teased.

Em laughed. "To future therapy bills!"

They all laughed, clinking their glasses together. Jason leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "I think this might be our best dysfunctional dinner yet."

Linda smiled as she watched them all — bickering, teasing, laughing — and sat down at the head of the table with a contented sigh. "It's not dysfunctional. It's just family."

_________________________________________

The warmth of the Kingsley dinner faded into the void.

The room was suffocatingly small, lit only by the cold, flickering glow of a phone screen propped against the counter. Shadows stretched long against the walls, swallowing the figure hunched over a ceramic bowl. A black hoodie shrouded her face, but the light caught the edge of her smirk—subtle, sharp, wrong.

Slow, deliberate strokes of a whisk scraped against the bowl; the rhythmic sound hollow in the silence. Red velvet batter clung to the metal like blood.

Her eyes never left the screen.

There they were. Perfect. Henry, laughing, his arm draped protectively around Emilia. His hand skimmed her back—gentle, possessive. Emilia leaned into him, smiling like she belonged there. Like she had earned that touch.

The woman's grip on the whisk tightened.

Too close.

The scraping grew harsher. The batter swirled violently.

Henry whispered something in Emilia's ear, and she laughed, the sound light and sweet, a melody only he was meant to hear. Meant for me.

The woman's lip curled. "Cute," she murmured. "Sickeningly cute."

Her fingers drifted to the small box on the counter—wrapped in pristine white paper, tied with a single black ribbon. She traced the ribbon's delicate edge, her touch featherlight, reverent.

On the screen, Henry kissed Emilia's temple. Emilia, glowing, gazed up at him, utterly trusting.

Pathetic.

Metal pressed into her palm as her fingers clenched around the whisk. She stirred faster. The batter lashed against the sides of the bowl, thick ribbons staining white ceramic.

Her phone buzzed. She didn't check.

Instead, she began to hum.

"Ring around the rosie..."

Her eyes darkened as Henry tucked a strand of Emilia's hair behind her ear, his touch reverent.

"Pocket full of posies..."

The woman reached into a drawer, fingers ghosting over plastic measuring spoons, a rolling pin—before closing around something small and gleaming.

She pulled out the tiny, glinting blades one by one, laying them in a neat row beside the batter.

Razor-thin. Invisible in the dark folds of cake.

Her lips parted slightly. A breath. A flicker of something close to anticipation.

With meticulous care, she picked up the first blade and slid it into the batter. The red swallowed it whole. Another. And another.

By the time she was done, the cake was laced with them—hidden between layers of sweetness, waiting like tiny, patient teeth.

"Ashes... ashes..."

She poured the batter into the pan. It slid from the bowl in thick, glistening folds, pooling like fresh wounds.

On the screen, Henry's hand settled over Emilia's.

The woman lifted the gift, the black ribbon slipping like silk between her fingers.

"We all fall down."

She slid the cake into the oven, the door clicking shut with a finality that sent a shiver through the air.

Stepping back, she crossed her arms, gaze locked on the screen.

Henry kissed Emilia's hand. Emilia leaned in, completely at ease, unaware.

A slow smile stretched across the woman's face.

Oh, sweet girl. Her fingers traced the ribbon, her touch soft, almost loving. You have no idea how quickly everything can turn to ash.

The oven hummed. Heat bled into the room.

She picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered for only a second before pressing record.

"Let's see how much you love her..." she whispered, voice honeyed, slow.

"When every bite tastes like blood."