3. CHAPTER 2 #2
It’s been two days since my father woke up from the coma.
I’d pushed back meetings and ran back home in fear and anticipation once I received the news.
Dr Gérard had told us he wasn’t sure if my father was ever going to come out of the coma.
But my father had always been a fighter, a warrior, fiercer than the fiercest of men. I had no doubt he’d pull through.
Still, nothing prepared me for what I saw when I walked into that room.
Dr Gérard stood by the side with my mother, but I barely saw them. My eyes were laser-focused on my father’s face.
His eyes were open, but they felt vacant, unfocused, and constantly searching without landing anywhere. I reached for his hand, hoping that my touch would settle him or me.
I searched his eyes, but it was like looking through the windows of his soul. Open. Unconscious.
My mother was speaking, but her voice sounded distant. The world narrowed and blurred at the same time. It felt like a dream. No… a nightmare.
I opened my mouth but no words formed. The ache that’d bloomed for days in my chest, blossomed into a fear of permanent separation.
The hope I had walking into the room slowly vanished.
I could barely recognize the man in front of me. And no, I wasn’t expecting him to be on his feet and active. No one expected that after being in a coma for weeks.
But not this. Never this.
Dr Gérard said something about my father not yet past the acute phase. I almost couldn’t make out any words. My throat felt too dry. My heartbeat elevated.
I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I’d felt like this.
I finally left my father’s hand and moved on to talk to Dr Gérard about his recovery, while my mother left to take calls from family members who’d called upon hearing the news.
An hour later, I staggered into my wing, collapsed on my bed, and didn’t leave the room till the next day.
It had been two days, and I couldn’t bring myself to face him again.
“How is he?” I asked Severin, not meeting his gaze.
“Recovering.”
“Good.”
Severin didn’t push further or ask any questions. He clearly understood.
We sat in silence until he finally pushed out of the chair and headed for the door.
“I have a meeting with a client. Let me know if you need anything,” he said as he reached for the doorknob. I nodded.
He left, and the door clicked shut behind him. The room fell quiet again, and I was alone with my thoughts. My eyes moved to the dark screen of the tablet. I’d gone through all the footage for today, but for some reason, I needed more.
Tapping the screen back to life, I pulled up pictures of her again. Léonie, days ago at the Fernández gardens, her hair in a messy bun, a sketch pad in her hands, smiling.
I hated how often I looked at this one.
Before I could swipe to the next, my phone buzzed.
I glanced down.
[Group chat: SANCTUM]
Julian started the conversation. It was very unusual for him, unless he was in the mood to wreck something.
Julian: Saints, are we alive tonight or has domestic capitalism finally killed you all?
Another message rolled in before I could lock the screen.
Elias: Some of us are busy building the future, not just corrupting it. You seem to be in a good mood today. What do you want?
Adrien: What he always wants. I’ve got the line-up confirmed for tonight. Blindfolds sorted. NDAs signed. Our friend at the agency says you’re welcome.
My thumb hovered over the screen. I should’ve ignored it. I had contracts to review, a father trying not to die in the next wing, an impending engagement to a woman who didn’t know I’d watched her life from twenty different angles.
Instead, I opened the thread.
Julian: Orion? Tell me you’re not working. Adrien pulled art tonight. You’d actually enjoy this batch.
Elias: Meaning: they’re expensive and emotionally unavailable. Julian is in love.
Adrien: Falling in love with inventory. That’s a new one.
I smirked despite myself. These fuckers.
This was easy. This part of my life had rules.
Anonymous location. No cameras. Masks on, blindfolds on, no names. Mindless fucking, not histories. Simple contact, no consequences.
I didn’t have to think there, and I didn’t have to feel anything I didn’t choose to.
Another buzz.
Zane: Does one of them do ballet? Asking for my knees.
Marcus: You mean your back, old man. Or your spine-less dignity.
Adrien: I just hope someone gags Zane this time.
Zane: I’ll bring the gag. Just for you, baby.
The thread exploded into laughing emojis and crude gifs. I’d met most of this group of societally corrupt menaces back in university. Marcus was the exception. I’d known him since childhood, long before any of us inherited legacies and damage we didn’t know what to do with.
We all came from powerful families, with enormous wealth to serve generations, and emotionally distant parents. Groomed for control, never affection, and we bonded over this shared curse.
Legacy trauma had a way of making monsters recognize each other.
So once a month, we came together to release all the tension from the trauma we carry around.
Julian came up with the idea, typically. He was always at his most relaxed when bad decisions were involved. Marcus provided locations, and Adrien provided everything else, including the girls.
The rules were simple. Rule number one: No kissing. I came up with that one. Kissing has always been too intimate for me. I never kiss while fucking.
Julian came up with rules number two and three: No Exclusivity & No Taking Anyone Home. There was no objection to this one. There was a reason why we wore masks throughout and outsiders were blindfolded.
No one in our circle could afford the scandal.
Rule number four: No partner’s allowed. I wasn’t sure who came up with this one. Maybe Elias, because he was dating someone at the time. But it stuck and we’ve adhered to it. Strictly.
Another buzz.
Marcus: I haven’t heard Kade say a thing. Is he alive?
Julian: Orion, darling. Don’t make me start sending pictures.
Julian is a problem. I typed back.
Me: Don’t. I’m in.
The reply was instant.
Julian: There he is. Midnight. Marc will send you the location. Gentlemen, our priest returns to the altar.
Elias chimed in.
Elias: Try not to scare them this time, Kade.
My lips lifted in a smile. Elias was the gentleman of the group. Always wanting the girls to feel comfortable, even though he knew exactly what this was.
Me: They sign up for fear. That’s the thrill of it all. You know this.
Zane and Marcus sent laughing emojis like the menaces they are.
Adrien: The roster’s balanced tonight, boys. You’ll all forget your names by dawn.
That was the point, wasn’t it?
To stop thinking about the things that actually mattered. Like my mother in her own world, waiting to see what I’d do with my father’s empire or if I’d burn it to the ground. And the woman across the city, living her life while I watched her every move from a screen like a thief.
My fingers drummed a restrained rhythm beside the phone. The urge to reopen the footage—just one more frame—gnawed beneath my skin like a bad habit.
I locked the screen instead.
“Still boring,” I told myself.
Then I turned the office lights off and went to meet my friends in the dark, where no one asked questions and no one expected me to be anything but what I already was—cold, controlled, and perfectly at ease with my sins.