Chapter 30
O ver the next few weeks, life settles into a strange rhythm. Each day blends into the next, the quiet routine of Silas’s house is both comforting and suffocating at the same time. The morning after Luis called with updates on the decrypted files, I somehow convinced Silas to return to the office. It wasn’t easy, but I reassured him I’d be fine. Truthfully, I needed the space to figure out just how much Silas knows about William’s secrets, and having him here all day made it impossible to think clearly.
Meanwhile, Silas and Davey have grown increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress in finding my attacker. Their tension is palpable, building with each passing day. Every evening, I watch Silas’s jaw clench when their daily reports come in with no new developments, aside from the limited footage they managed to obtain of the path where the attacker took me. I sit there quietly, pretending to share their concern, while guilt churns in my gut.
Talks of me finding a new apartment have been completely tabled. Silas is adamant that I stay under his roof until my attacker is found, and I haven’t even fought him on it. Luis was right: Peter won’t risk exposing himself by coming after me while I’m here, under constant watch. So, when Silas told me he wanted me to wait before signing a new lease, I conceded. It was easier than arguing.
I also reluctantly agreed to the rest of his security measures, the most notable being that someone from his team accompanies me whenever I leave the house. Cillian is the one who usually shadows me. He drives me everywhere I need to go and keeps a watchful, silent presence nearby. Because of this, I’ve kept my outings minimal. Most of my time is spent between Silas’s house and visiting Natalie at her home. She’s under the same security measures as I am, though she accepts them with far less resistance.
This past Monday, I finally returned to the gym to train with Jeff after getting cleared by Dr. Carrow; with restrictions, of course. I hadn’t expected Jeff to be thrilled about my long absence, but his reaction caught me off guard. He grilled me, demanding to know where I’d been and why I hadn’t called. When I told him about how his training had saved my life, his anger deflated almost instantly. Still, he gave me a sharp, knowing look when I mentioned that my attacker hadn’t been caught and only had a half-assed explanation of why I was targeted by this “random” man. Training felt good, though. Even with Cillian looming at the edge of the gym like a watchful shadow, it felt familiar, like I was reclaiming a part of myself I thought I’d lost.
Despite everything else going on, there are moments where life with Silas feels almost… normal. As if we were always meant to exist this way. Silas wakes up several hours before me to workout in the basement and is at the office until the evening. During the day, I work from the guest room, collaborating with Luis on decoding the files. Progress is agonizingly slow, but it’s something. By the time Silas gets home, we’ve fallen into a routine: dinners at the kitchen island, conversations about his work and the changes he wants to make when he takes over Wells, late nights watching movies in the attic, and long, lingering kisses that start innocently enough but always end with us tangled in his bed.
He’s thoughtful in ways I hadn’t expected, like calling between meetings to check in or surprising me with my favorite takeout when I’m too distracted to eat. His edges are still sharp, but Natalie was right: Silas is good. He’s better than I gave him credit for. The more time I spend with him, the more convinced I am that he doesn’t know what’s hidden on those servers. I can’t imagine the Silas I’ve come to know being complicit in whatever his father is doing. He’s too principled, too loyal to the people he cares about.
And yet, no matter how certain I feel, that lingering doubt never fully disappears because I’ve never had something this good without it slipping through my fingers. Nothing in my life has ever stayed untouched by betrayal or consequence, and I don’t know how to believe this will be any different. It’s the last thread holding me back, the one thing keeping the truth locked inside me. Because if I’m wrong, if I misjudged him, it could seal my fate. If Silas decides I’m too much of a risk, this knowledge could die with me.
Yesterday, Silas surprised me with a last-minute request to attend a gala with him. The way he mentioned it over dinner made it clear he wasn’t exactly excited about the event. It’s hosted by one of the city’s most influential families to support the expansion of medical access to underserved communities. He explained that he hadn’t intended to go, but he learned earlier in the day that his entire family would be in attendance and decided it was important for him to be there as well.
The tension in his voice when he mentioned his father was unmistakable, but I didn’t press him, because despite everything, I can’t seem to say no to Silas. Not when he looks at me like he did when he asked.
Now, as I blink away the spots in my vision from the flurry of photographers outside, the grand entrance of the gala stretches before us. The towering downtown building is a masterpiece of elegance, its arched doorway framed by cascading lights that shimmer like stars. Silas’s hand rests lightly at the small of my back, guiding me forward. His touch is a quiet reassurance as we step into the lavish event space. The soft hum of conversations mingles with the gentle notes of a string quartet, the faint scent of roses and champagne wafting around us.
Men in tailored suits and women in flowing gowns glide effortlessly across the floor, their movements fluid and rehearsed. This world isn’t foreign to me anymore; not the polished grandeur, the staged smiles, or the subtle glances sweeping over every arrival. My pulse quickens, but not because of the attention we attract. I’m used to the hushed whispers and speculative looks that follow Silas wherever he goes. No, it’s the knowledge that William Wells is somewhere in this room, and I’ll have to interact with him knowing everything I’m trying to uncover.
A waiter approaches with a tray of bubbling champagne flutes, lowering it in front of us with a practiced smile. Silas and I each take a glass, murmuring our thanks before the waiter moves on. I catch two women nearby, close to my age, blatantly staring at Silas. I don’t blame them. He looks beautiful in a tuxedo perfectly molded to his body, his dark curls styled just enough to be polished without losing their natural edge. His glasses catch the light, the sharp frames accentuating the piercing intensity of his gaze.
Turning to him, I clink my glass lightly against his, the crystal ringing softly between us. His palm remains a brand at the small of my back, even through the crimson fabric of my dress. The asymmetrical neckline and cut-out at my waist feel elegant, but the way Silas’s eyes rake over my body makes the dress feel like less of a statement piece and more of a weapon forged specifically against him. His gaze lingers as he takes a slow sip of champagne, his dark eyes smoldering.
I smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something?”
His lips curve into a filthy smile as he leans in closer, his breath brushing the shell of my ear. “You already are,” he murmurs, his hand pressing more firmly against me. “But if you’re offering, I can think of a few things.”
A sudden flush of heat washes over me. I give him a pointed look, trying to mask the way my heartbeat picks up. Silas chuckles, low and quiet, taking another sip of his drink as his gaze sweeps the room.
But then his attention shifts, and I catch the subtle tightening of his jaw. I follow his line of sight and hear it before I see it. A distantly familiar voice, loud and dripping with exaggerated amusement. The blonde woman I’ve only seen in passing at previous events is holding court a few feet away, theatrically discussing my now infamous date at the Gilded Sear. Her words are laced with ridicule as she wonders aloud if I’m “seeing two men at the same time.” And the women around her laugh.
The delicious warmth from Silas’s previous comment simmers into something hotter. My hands twitch at my sides, but instead of turning toward her and risking a scene, I rest my palm on the elbow of the arm wrapped around my waist, the touch deliberate and possessive. Silas’s gaze flickers down to me at the movement, his expression softening just slightly.
“You look handsome,” I whisper, my fingers brushing over the smooth fabric of his tux jacket. “Like, distractingly handsome.”
The compliment seems to snap Silas out of his thoughts. His eyes lower to mine, the remaining tension in his face melts away, lips curving into a smile. Full, genuine, and so beautiful it makes my toes curl in my heels.
Releasing his hold on my waist, he takes my hand, and lifts it to his lips, kissing the pulse point on my wrist.
“And you,” he says against my skin, his voice a quiet rumble that sends a shiver down my spine, “are breathtaking.”
The warmth of Silas’s mouth remains, even after he pulls away. For a fleeting moment, I almost forget we’re standing in the middle of a crowded room filled with sharp eyes and sharper tongues. But the reprieve is short-lived. His gaze moves past me, his posture stiffening ever so slightly.
I follow his line of sight and immediately spot them: his siblings and William, clustered together near a group of important-looking attendees. Natalie’s bright smile lights up the space effortlessly as she chats animatedly with someone I don’t recognize. Davey stands beside her, his expression more reserved, though there’s a kind smile on his face. Jeremy is mid-conversation with William and another man, gesturing subtly as he speaks. William, ever the patriarch, listens with an air of authority, nodding occasionally. The man they’re speaking to looks captivated, his gaze flicking between William and Jeremy like he’s absorbing every word.
Silas exhales softly beside me, his fingers sliding into mine. “Looks like it’s time to play nice,” he murmurs, his tone dry. “Come on.”
As we weave through the crowd toward his family, I can feel the tension radiating off him. He doesn’t have to say it, but I know the last board meeting, where William publicly undermined him, still lingers like an open wound. I squeeze his hand lightly, hoping the gesture will offer him some measure of reassurance.
William is the first to notice our approach. His sharp brown eyes flick to Silas, then to me, and his lips curl into a practiced smile. It’s polite, almost warm, but there’s a detachment that feels like it’s been fine-tuned for public appearances.
“Silas,” William greets smoothly, his voice laced with paternal familiarity. His attention shifts to me, and the smile widens just enough to feel deliberate. “Scarlett. I’m glad to see you looking better. I trust you’re recovering well.”
The air stills, just for a moment, as his words settle. Of course, William would be aware of the attack, even if the marks are no longer visible on my face. He’s too deeply involved in his family’s affairs not to know, especially with Davey working alongside Silas to identify the culprit. But the knowledge feels heavy in my chest, like it’s being wielded as a subtle reminder of how closely he watches everything. I return his smile, careful to keep my tone neutral.
“I’m much better, thank you,” I reply, my voice steady. “It was a difficult few weeks, but Silas has been incredibly supportive.”
William’s gaze lingers on me for a beat too long, and something flickers in his eyes. It’s quick, almost imperceptible, but distinctly calculating. Like he’s weighing every word I’ve just said. Then, he turns back to Silas, his expression unreadable.
“My son, ever the protector,” he says, his tone light but pointed.
The comment feels like a double-edged sword, cutting at both ends. Is it a jab at Silas’s need to step into roles William sees as unnecessary? Or is it a backhanded compliment? Either way, the tension in Silas’s hand as it tightens around mine tells me he’s not thrilled. I part my lips to respond, but Natalie’s voice cuts through the moment, bright and disarming.
“There you are!” Natalie exclaims, breaking away from her conversation with a radiant smile and pulling me into a warm hug. The scent of her light and floral perfume fills the space between us. “You look incredible. How do you always make it look so easy?”
I laugh softly, her warm voice easing some of the tightness in my chest. “I could ask you the same thing,” I reply, letting the natural rhythm of our friendship take over. I glance at her glass, using it as an excuse to steer the conversation away from William. “What are you drinking?”
She grins, holding up her glass with a mock flourish. “Some sort of elderflower champagne concoction. Want me to grab you one?”
I shake my head, smiling. “Maybe later. I’m still working on this one.”
Natalie laughs, lifting her glass in a playful toast before returning to her conversation. Davey gives me a polite nod, his expression measured, while Silas exchanges a brief handshake with him. Jeremy offers a faint smile before re-engaging with the man he and William had been speaking to. With everyone momentarily distracted, Silas takes the opportunity to guide me away, his hand finding its place at the small of my back once again.
We move through the crowd seamlessly, exchanging pleasantries with other guests as we go. Silas’s presence is magnetic, drawing attention wherever we stop. He keeps me close, his hand never straying far from mine or my waist, a quiet but undeniable claim. The warmth of his touch is steadying, even as the din of the room threatens to overwhelm.
When my champagne glass empties, I lean toward him, touching his arm lightly to get his attention. “I’m going to run to the restroom,” I say, offering a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here.”
He nods, taking the empty glass from my hand without question. “Take your time,” he says, his voice low and even.
I step away, weaving through the crowd toward the hallway lined with restrooms. As I move, I can still feel the weight of Silas’s gaze, a tether that anchors me even as I put distance between us.
The noise of the gala fades behind the heavy restroom door, replaced by the muffled echo of my heels on polished marble as I move toward the sink. The quiet sanctuary is a welcome reprieve from the chaos outside, the warm lighting and cool surfaces offering a moment to collect myself. I smooth my dress, reapply a bit of lipstick, and meet my own gaze in the mirror, willing my heartbeat to slow.
When I step back into the hallway, the distant hum of the party barely registers. The corridor is empty except for one figure standing just a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall. William.
His posture is deceptively relaxed, hands tucked into his pockets, but his sharp eyes track my every move with precision. My instincts scream at me to keep walking, to ignore whatever he’s about to say. But something about his stillness demands attention, pulling me forward.
“Scarlett,” he greets, his voice calm and almost cordial. The faint smile on his lips doesn’t reach his eyes. “I thought I might find you here. Taking a moment to escape the chaos?”
It’s not really a question and the subtle undertone of scrutiny is impossible to miss. But I still force a polite smile, keeping my voice measured. “Just a quick break. It’s been a busy evening.”
William hums, a noncommittal sound as he straightens to rock slightly on his heels. “I have to admit, I was surprised when Silas told me he was bringing you tonight. He isn’t one to use the same date twice.”
The barb slices cleanly through the air between us but I refuse to let the insult land. Instead, I tilt my head slightly, letting the smile linger on my lips. “Maybe I’m the exception.”
His smile hardens, though his gaze remains cool. “Perhaps. But I must say, you’ve made quite an impression on my family in a remarkably short time. First, there’s your... unfortunate accident, then Natalie suddenly needs heightened security, and Silas is consumed with playing the hero.” He pauses before delivering the final blow. “And you, Scarlett. You have a real talent for finding yourself at the center of it all, don’t you?”
The calm mask I’ve been wearing threatens to crack under the weight of his insinuations. My mind races, panic flashing like a warning light. Does he know? Has he pieced together why I’m really here?
But his tone is too measured, his words too carefully vague. He’s not accusing me outright. He’s testing me, watching for a slip, a tell.
I latch onto the simplest assumption, the one that serves both of our purposes: he thinks I’m a gold digger. I let out a light laugh, as though his comment amuses me rather than infuriates me. “I promise, William, I’m not trying to shake up your family. Being in the middle of things just kind of… happened. Not exactly something I planned.”
“Is that so?” he asks, his tone calm but cool, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Because from where I’m standing, it all seems rather convenient. A sudden accident, Silas rushing to your side, and now you’re living with him and fully integrated into a world most people would kill to be part of.”
I meet his gaze head-on, summoning every ounce of composure I have. My smile doesn’t falter, but there’s steel in my voice now. “With all due respect, I don’t need Silas or anyone else to integrate me into anything. I’ve done quite well for myself long before I met him.”
His expression shifts, his smile tightening as he takes a step closer, his presence looming without being overtly threatening. “And yet, here you are.”
“And yet, here I am,” I echo, lifting my chin. “Because I care about Silas.”
The silence that follows stretches thin, taut as a wire. William studies me, his sharp gaze flicking over my face as if cataloging every nuance of my expression. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat reverberating in my ears, but I hold his stare without flinching.
“Well,” he finally says, his tone clipped, the faint smile never leaving his lips. “I suppose time will tell.”
“Is there a problem here?”
I turn toward the sound, my heart leaping as Silas approaches with long, purposeful strides. His expression is calm, but his eyes burn with barely restrained anger. Before I can blink, he’s at my side, his hand settling firmly on my hip. The gesture is subtle but unmistakable: a warning and a reassurance all at once.
William’s polished smile doesn’t falter, though I notice the brief flicker of something colder in his eyes as he meets his son’s gaze. “Not at all,” he replies smoothly. “Scarlett and I were just having a friendly conversation.”
Silas’s fingers flex slightly against my side, his voice a controlled, razor-sharp edge. “Funny,” he says evenly. “It didn’t sound friendly, Dad .”
William shrugs, the picture of indifference. “Just a misunderstanding, I’m sure.” As he finishes the words, he steps forward and pats Silas’s shoulder. The gesture is light and almost paternal, but intentionally crosses the invisible boundary Silas has placed between him and me.
Silas doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. The tension between them is a silent battle of wills that feels far older than this moment. The Wells patriarch only lingers a moment longer. He withdraws his hand, straightens his cuffs with an air of nonchalance, and steps back, leaving the friction simmering in his wake.
Once William is out of sight, the breath I’d been holding escapes me in a shaky exhale, and my shoulders sag slightly as the weight of the encounter begins to lift. Silas turns to me immediately, his hand at my side tightening as he searches my face.
“Are you okay?” His voice is softer now, the anger from moments ago replaced by concern.
I nod quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you.”
He studies me for a moment longer, his brow furrowing, as if he doesn’t entirely believe me. Then, with a gentle squeeze at my waist, his expression softens. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get out of this hallway.”
Silas guides me back toward the ballroom. The hum of the gala wraps around us as we step inside, the music swelling and mingling with the murmur of laughter and conversation. I find myself clinging to him just a little tighter, my fingers brushing against his wrist to keep him close. He leads me directly to the dance floor just as a new song is about to begin.
Without a word, Silas takes my hand and pulls me into a waltz, his other hand resting gently on my waist. Quickly, the room blurs around us, the crowd and their watchful eyes fading into the background as his focus remains solely on me. He doesn’t speak, only guides me through the dance with effortless precision, his grip steady, though I can tell he’s grappling with what he wants to say to me.
Only a minute into the waltz, I can’t stand the silence between us any longer. “Thank you for standing up for me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the music. I hesitate, struggling to find the right words. “I hope you know that what he said… I don’t…”
“Stop,” Silas interrupts gently, his voice firm as he slows our movements. We come to a complete stop on the outskirts of the dance floor, his hands releasing me to frame my face. His thumbs brush against the sides of my jaw as he holds my gaze, his dark eyes steady and unrelenting. “You don’t need to justify yourself to him or anyone else. I know who you are, Scar. I see you. ”
The weight of his words hits me like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep me under. My throat tightens, and I blink hard, fighting back the sting of tears. Every part of me aches to tell him the truth—to let him see me for who I really am—but fear holds me hostage.
Silas’s hands linger on my neck, his thumbs brushing lightly against my jaw. For a moment, it feels like he’s on the verge of saying something, but he doesn’t. His lips press together, and he exhales sharply through his nose, the sound heavy with frustration.
“Scarlett,” he says, his voice strained, like he’s forcing the words out. “I—” he stops, looks away for a moment, then meets my gaze again, his eyes blazing with conviction. “I’m in this. You and me. I want this.”
The simplicity of his words gut me. He’s choosing me without hesitation. Without fear. It’s overwhelming, and the ache of knowing I can’t choose him back feels like it’s tearing me in two.
I open my mouth to respond, to say something. Anything. But the words won’t come. Instead, I lean into his touch, my voice breaking as I whisper, “Silas…”
“Just know it,” he says, his grip on me unfaltering. “That’s all I need you to do. Just know it.”
The music swells around us, seeming to match the rhythm of my own racing heart. Silas doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that feels like a declaration. He doesn’t care who’s watching or what they might think. His thumbs caress my cheeks as his mouth moves against mine, slow and achingly tender, taking his time savoring me.
His words replay in my mind, over and over, as guilt and warmth battle for space in my chest. And for now, just for a little while longer, I let the warmth win.