Chapter 34
“T his is… intimidating,“ I admit, my voice lighter than I feel. “Are you sure this is a good idea? He didn’t even invite me.”
Silas’s grip on the steering wheel tightens briefly as he turns into the massive circular driveway in the suburbs, gravel crunching under the tires. His expression is calm but resolute. “Where I go, you go. My father will learn that soon enough.”
I nod, but the unease swirling in my stomach doesn’t dissipate. William Wells had summoned his children to dinner under the guise of discussing “family business,” a vague and heavy phrase that immediately made me feel like an outsider. Now, standing on the edge of this world—his world—I feel like a ripple in an endless ocean.
After parking, Silas walks quickly around to my side and opens the door. His hand is warm and steady as I take it, the only grounding presence in an environment designed to intimidate. The towering mansion looms ahead, its perfectly manicured hedges and glowing marble facade casting long shadows over us. Each step toward the grand double doors makes my heart thud harder in my chest.
The doors swing open before we reach them, revealing a man in a tailored black suit who radiates the sort of practiced deference that comes with serving the Wells family. “Mr. Silas. Miss,” he greets with a slight bow, his gaze flicking to me briefly before returning to Silas. “Everyone is waiting for you in the living room.”
Everyone.
The word feels pointed, like a reminder that I’m not supposed to be here. I squeeze Silas’s hand slightly, my unease bubbling up, but he doesn’t flinch. If anything, he holds on tighter, his grip a silent reassurance as he leads me through the entrance hall.
The interior is grand and cold, every detail carefully curated to exude power and wealth. High ceilings, intricate molding, and marble floors gleam under the soft glow of antique chandeliers make feel impossibly small. Silas doesn’t slow as he leads me toward the formal living room.
When we step inside, it’s exactly as I imagined it would be: impossibly elegant, designed to intimidate, and devoid of true warmth. A grand fireplace crackles in the corner, its golden light casting flickering shadows over the mahogany furniture, pristine rugs, and shelves lined with leather-bound books. It’s beautiful, but it’s a beauty that feels sharp.
My gaze is drawn to the far wall, where a large portrait hangs above an ornate sideboard. The woman in the painting stops me in my tracks. Her angular face is framed by dark brown hair, faint streaks of gray blending into the strands. Freckles dust her nose, softening the angles of her features, and her hazel eyes, warm and crinkled on the corners, seem to hold a depth that makes me feel like she’s looking right at me.
The resemblance is striking, even with the age difference in the painting. It’s in the high cheekbones, the subtle downturn of the lips, the quiet intensity in her stare that feels as though it could pierce right through you. This is Silas’s mother, Caroline.
Though I’d seen photos of her online, it’s different to see her here, in this room where it feels out of place. A space so carefully curated by William’s cold, calculating hand. Yet, it’s also the only thing in here that feels truly human.
I glance at Silas, but his expression doesn’t shift. He spares the portrait a fleeting glance, his jaw tightening ever so slightly, before he looks away. It’s as if the sight of her is too much, or perhaps he’s simply too practiced at masking whatever it stirs in him. I wonder if he feels her absence here as much as I can sense it.
The rest of the Wells family is already seated, scattered across the room in their own corners. Natalie and Davey sit together on a sofa, her hand resting lightly on his knee as they chat quietly. Jeremy lounges in an armchair near William, a drink in hand, his posture casual yet alert. And then there’s William, seated in a high-backed armchair that might as well be a throne. His presence dominates the room, the sharpness in his gaze slicing through the quiet hum of conversation.
As we step further inside, the low murmur of voices fades, replaced by the faint crackle of the fire and the weight of everyone’s attention shifting toward us.
William’s eyes are locked on me, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly before he lets a tense smile lift his lips. “Silas. Scarlett,” he begins, his voice polite but dripping with veiled disapproval. “I didn’t realize you’d be joining us tonight.”
The words hang in the air, every syllable carefully chosen to remind me that I’m not welcome. Natalie’s head snaps toward her father, her eyebrows furrowing in a flash of irritation.
“She’s not just a guest, Dad,” Silas says, his voice steady but defiant. “Scarlett will be a part of this family eventually, so you might as well get used to it.”
My breath catches, my chest tightening at the firmness of his words. It’s a declaration and it makes my heart ache in equal parts warmth and despair. I glance at him, but his gaze remains locked on his father, unflinching and unyielding.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Natalie’s lips curve into a faint smile, her expression softening as she looks at her brother. Beside her, Davey’s features remain neutral, though a flicker of confusion crosses his eyes as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Jeremy, lounging casually in his chair, raises an eyebrow but says nothing, his attention fixed on William.
William’s jaw tightens ever so slightly, the tension rippling through him barely masked as he forces a wider smile. “I see,” he says smoothly, though his tone betrays his displeasure. “Well, I suppose we’ll adjust.” He gestures toward an empty couch with a stiff motion, but the undercurrent of his disapproval is impossible to miss.
Silas’s hand remains firm on mine as he leads me to the couch, his presence a silent shield against the weight of William’s judgment. The conversation resumes, polite and practiced, as staff circulate with trays of pre-dinner cocktails. I sit quietly, letting the discussion drift around me like distant static. But William’s sharp gaze finds me too often, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle. Every time, I force myself to sit a little straighter, meeting his gaze head-on, even though every instinct screams at me to look away.
Eventually, William raises his glass, the subtle motion commanding silence in the room. The murmur of conversation fades instantly as everyone turns their attention to him. “To family,” he begins, his voice smooth and authoritative, each word weighted with purpose. “Our biggest strength and our greatest responsibility.”
Beside me, I feel Silas tense, his hand tightening slightly on his glass. The frustration radiates off him in waves, barely contained beneath his composed exterior. Whatever William’s real reason for this dinner is, it’s clear that Silas is already bracing himself for a battle.
“Wells Corp is at a critical juncture,” William continues, his tone carrying an air of self-importance. “It’s essential that we all understand our roles in preserving what I’ve built. Especially as of late.”
The insinuation lands heavily, the words hanging like a blade poised over the room. Silas doesn’t let him finish.
“Why not just tell us why we’re here, Dad?” Silas’s voice cuts through the air. “What’s with all the theatrics?”
The room goes still. Even the faint clink of glasses ceases. William turns his attention to Silas, his expression unreadable, though the tightening at the corners of his mouth betrays his annoyance.
“Everything I do is for this family,” William responds without answering his question, tone icy but measured. “You’ve all benefited greatly from the decisions I’ve made.”
“And I’m grateful for that,” Silas retorts, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t ask questions. I’m trying to understand you.”
Jeremy shifts in his seat, rolling his eyes. “You always do this, Silas,” he mutters, irritated. “Just let Dad say what he has to say.”
Natalie holds up a hand, her voice calm but firm. “Let’s not do this tonight,” she says, her gaze darting between her brother and father. “Can we just have one evening without a fight?”
Davey remains silent, his sharp eyes flicking between them, as though he’s analyzing the dynamics like a puzzle to be solved.
I sit frozen, my chest tightening as I watch Silas square off against his father. Every line of his body is drawn tight, his need to be heard and respected written into his very posture. Instinctively, I reach out, placing a hand on his thigh. He glances at me, his expression softening briefly before he turns back to William.
“Things are going to change soon,” Silas says, his voice calmer now but no less firm. “I know the two of us have had some… growing pains recently. There’s going to be an adjustment period for all of us as we get closer to the end of the year. But, Dad, I’m not here to fight you.”
William raises an eyebrow, his tone unreadable as he asks, “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Silas says, leaning back slightly, his shoulders relaxing. “I know how much you’ve sacrificed to make Wells what it is, but I also have my own ideas and visions for the future. We need to trust one another. I want to work with you, not against you.”
For a moment, William doesn’t respond. He takes a slow sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on Silas, weighing him, testing him. When he finally speaks, his voice is calm, but each word is deliberate and cutting. “Trust, Silas, is earned. And if you want to lead, you’ll have to prove that your vision won’t jeopardize everything I’ve worked for.” He sets his glass down with a measured precision, his eyes never leaving Silas. “I’ve already been questioning your judgment these past few months. And I don’t think I need to spell out why.”
Silas exhales sharply, leaning back further into the couch. The tension in the room is suffocating. For a moment, it feels as though everyone else in the room has disappeared, leaving only Silas and William locked in this silent battle of wills.
And then William looks at me. Pointed. Intentional.
I don’t care about his approval. I never have. Men like him, powerful and calculating, have never dictated my worth. And yet, the rejection hits in a way I can’t shake, sharp and familiar, settling deep in the hollow space left behind by years of being dismissed, overlooked. Just like with my own parents.
Forcing my shoulders back, I keep my expression blank. William turns back to Silas without a second glance, like I’m not even worth that.
“I won’t be continuing this discussion with guests present,“ William says, his tone clipped and final. The edges of his words are razor-sharp. “This is a matter for family, Silas. Perhaps we can resume the conversation when the setting is more… appropriate. Until then, you’re free to go.”
The dismissal lands like a slap across the face, and I feel the sting of it. Silas’s jaw clenches, the muscle ticking as he stares at his father, his frustration barely concealed. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he rises slowly and offers me his hand.
“Come on, Scarlett,” he says, not holding his father’s stare. “We’re done here.”
This isn’t a fight he can win, not right now, not without making things worse. And still, the silence cuts. A quiet confirmation that I don’t belong here. It’s a dull ache, settling low in my chest. Like pressing on an old bruise I thought had faded, only to find it still tender.
As I reach for Silas, I can’t even bring myself to look at his siblings or Davey. The embarrassment flushing up the back of my neck to my cheeks is enough. The silence as we leave is deafening. William doesn’t stop us. He doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t need to. The message is clear: I’m not part of this family, and Silas’s position here is as tenuous as his willingness to follow William’s rules.
Silas’s body thrums as we make our way to his car. He opens my door for me, and I slip inside without a word. When he slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, the low hum fills the quiet space between us. I can’t find the words. I don’t even know where to start.
“He doesn’t respect me,” Silas finally says, his voice low but vibrating with fury. His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. “No matter what I do, it’s never enough.”
My chest aches for him. Though I despise William, it doesn’t stop me from wishing he could be better for Silas. Wishing he could give him even a fraction of the validation he so clearly deserves.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. The words feel inadequate, like they barely scratch the surface of what I want to say. But what else can I offer? He’s right, and I can’t bring myself to lie to him.
Silas exhales sharply, his frustration bleeding into his words. “I’ve stopped expecting it. Respect, I mean. Not from him. Since announcing I’m stepping into his role, he doesn’t see me as anything more than an extension of himself to keep his legacy alive.” His voice grows harder, sharper. “I don’t think he ever intends to let go. He’ll never fully trust me to run Wells without his hand on the wheel.”
He’s not wrong, and I hate that he’s not. The depth of William’s control is suffocating, a force that Silas has been living under for far too long. I reach out, brushing my hand lightly against his arm.
“That’s not fair,” I say quietly, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “You deserve more than that.”
He glances at me, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that’s not quite a smile but isn’t fully bitter either. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his tone resigned. “But wanting something doesn’t make it real, does it?”
The exhaustion in his voice grows heavier with each word. I want to comfort him, to tell him he’s stronger than his father’s shadow, but the truth sits heavy in my chest. He deserves someone who can fight this battle with him, not someone who’s already plotting an exit.
The shame is overwhelming. It presses into my ribs, into my heart, until the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Maybe…” I hesitate, forcing myself to keep going. “Maybe you should go back inside. Without me there. If you stay, maybe he’ll talk to you and he’ll finally explain himself. You deserve that clarity, Silas.”
The air between us thins as Silas turns to look at me, confusion flashing in his eyes before anger takes hold. “Is that what you think?” he asks, his voice low and sharp. “That I should just leave you here and go crawling back to him?”
Unable to meet his gaze, I look out the window toward the mansion we just walked out of. “It’s not about me, Silas,” I murmur. “This is your family. If there’s even a chance he’ll be honest with you, you should take it.”
The silence that follows is suffocating. For a moment, I think he’s going to unbuckle his seatbelt and march back up those steps without a second glance. The thought feels like a knife to the chest, but I’d endure it. I’d have to.
Instead, Silas lets out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head as if he’s finally piecing together some great puzzle. “You want me to go back in there without you,“ he says with a mix of disbelief and hurt. “Don’t you?”
I whip my head around to meet his gaze, panic flaring in my chest. “That’s not true,” I say quickly, too quickly. “I just… I don’t want to make things harder for you.”
His jaw tightens, the muscle fluttering as he stares at me. “Harder for me?” he repeats, his voice rising slightly before reining it in and exhaling sharply. “Scarlett, do you think I give a shit what my father thinks of you?” His tone is biting. “If he never comes around, if he spends the rest of his life pretending you don’t exist, I don’t care. As long as you want to be here, as long as you’ll have me, I have no intention of letting you go. None.”
The conviction in his voice steals the breath from my lungs. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, slipping free before I can stop them. I quickly swipe them away, hoping he doesn’t notice, but I know he does. “Si…” I trail off, my voice trembling as I search for something to say, something that won’t betray the storm raging inside me. There’s nothing I can say. Not when I can’t promise him more than another few weeks, at most.
Finally, I manage a weak, “Okay.”
For anyone else, Silas might have taken the quick agreeance as true compliance. But my lack of resistance only unsettles him. Something flickers in his eyes—panic, frustration. He’s watching me too closely now, searching for the words I won’t say. The sharp edge of his anger dulls, replaced by something that borders on fear.
“Don’t do this,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “Don’t pull away from me.” His hand lifts to my cheek, the back of his fingers brushing against my skin. The gesture is so gentle that it nearly undoes me. “What he says or thinks means nothing to me, Scar. Nothing .”
I nod faintly, trying to reassure him, to pacify him, but the sadness is overwhelming. As if sensing the fragile threads of my resolve, Silas doesn’t push me further. Instead, he reluctantly turns forward, his hand shifting to rest just above my knee. His fingers press gently into my leg.
The car rolls into motion as he pulls out of the driveway, the low hum of the engine filling the thick silence between us. His thumb begins tracing slow, deliberate circles over the fabric of my pants, the warmth of his touch seeping through to my skin. The lights of the city blur together as we approach the familiar skyline, their glow reflecting faintly on the glass. Every few minutes, Silas gives my leg a reassuring squeeze as a quiet reminder of his presence, both physically and mentally.
I can feel his glances. Brief but searching, like he’s trying to gauge where I am. But I don’t look back at him. I can’t. The remorse bubbling inside me is too close to spilling over, and I don’t trust myself to meet his gaze without breaking completely.
My phone buzzes in my bag. I jump slightly, the sound too sharp, too intrusive. I pull it out, grateful for the distraction, but as my eyes scan the message from Luis, my stomach twists painfully.
Luis: We’ve found important information about the satellite office’s security. I’ll call tomorrow so we can discuss next steps.
My lungs feel like they’re in a vice, each molecule of air being crushed out of them. The text is straightforward, unassuming. But to me, it’s a grenade, its pin already pulled.
“Everything okay?” Silas’s voice breaks through the haze, low and full of concern. I glance at him briefly, his profile outlined against the glow of the passing streetlights. His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel, and I hate that I’m giving him yet another reason to worry.
I force a quick nod, sliding the phone back into my bag. “Yeah,” I say, the lie catching in my throat. “Just a message from a friend I used to work with. Nothing important.”
He bows his head slightly in acknowledgment, but his jaw tenses. I know he’s not convinced. Silas isn’t one to let things slide, but he relents.
The rest of the ride home is silent, the tension in the car thick enough to choke on. When we pull into the garage and the engine shuts off, neither of us moves. The car feels like purgatory, suspended between the chaos of the evening and whatever comes next. I stare at my hands, my fingers twisting together in my lap as I wait for him to say something. Anything.
Finally, Silas sighs, the sound heavy and resigned. “We’re home,” he says softly, his voice lacking the edge it carried earlier.
I force a small, tired smile and nod, letting him lead me inside. There’s nothing left to say. At least, nothing either of us is ready to say yet.
In the privacy of his bedroom, the walls around Silas begin to peel away. He sheds them one by one until it’s just us. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t demand explanations. Instead, he shows me in every touch, every lingering kiss, that he’s here, that he’s all in. His hands move over me like a promise, like he’s trying to brand me with the certainty that what we have is worth holding on to. That it’s enough.
And for a while, I let myself believe it. I lose myself in him—in the way his lips move against mine, the way our bodies mold as though we were always meant to fit together. His warmth seeps into me, chasing away the chill of doubt and fear, and I cling to it like a lifeline.
But no matter how much I try to drown in him, the message from Luis burns at the edges of my mind, refusing to be ignored. It’s a constant reminder of the reality waiting for me, of the inevitable choice I’ll have to make. This was never supposed to last. It was never meant to become this .