172 The Price Of Silence
Lucian
We stayed with the Romanovs for a while. Katya had stories-so many stories-about my mother. Each one peeled back a layer of the woman I never got the chance to know. And with every word, a knot tightened in my chest.
I was furious with my father for keeping me away from them, for robbing me of this connection, this love. I saw it now- what I had missed. What had been stolen.
Instead, he left me with that ice-hearted woman he dared to call his mate. He abandoned me in that house, where cruelty was currency and silence was survival. And he did nothing. No defense. No protection. Just apathy wrapped in excuses he never even bothered to make.
He could’ve done the right thing. He could’ve sent me to the Romanovs, paid for everything with her money-the money
my mother left behind.
It would’ve spared me the loneliness, the abuse, the years spent walking on glass in that cursed mansion. And as I stood there, looking at the Romanovs’ modest cottage, I realized how badly they’d been wronged. They deserved so much more
than this. So did I.
What made it worse-what really made my blood boil-was knowing why he kept me close. Not out of love. Not even guilt.
He did it to hold on to control, to keep the assets tethered to him.
My mother’s fortune, funneled straight into that woman’s hands. The thought made me sick. She had her claws deep in what wasn’t hers. If my aunt hadn’t threatened him last year, that company would’ve gone up in flames. He would’ve let it
burn.
Now everything made sense.
My father wasn’t negligent because he was overwhelmed-he had given up. Somewhere deep down, he knew his time was up. That the legacy wasn’t his anymore. Maybe that’s why he left so much undone, why the cracks were starting to
show.
And Lydia… My cousin stood strong, but I could see the weight she carried. Her mother needed help. Real help. Staff, support-something to give Lydia her own life back. And it hit me: maybe my aunt never found a mate because this was her purpose. She’d been holding the pieces together while the man who should’ve stepped up disappeared behind his
cowardice.
I couldn’t forgive him. Not for this. Not for claiming to love my mother and then turning around to treat her family like
burdens. It was heartless. Unforgivable. And if he had any excuses left, I didn’t want to hear them.
We left that evening. As the sun slipped behind the trees, I promised Lydia and Katya I would stay in touch. And I meant it. I would take care of them. I owed it to my mother. And to myself.
Lydia dropped us at the hotel just after sundown. Before driving off, she leaned out her window with a half-smirk and warned, “Watch out for the whores from Goldenpeak.”
I laughed and promised, “No slip-ups.”
She nodded, softer now. “Thanks for coming, Lucian.” Then she was gone.
Upstairs, in the silence of our room, the weight of the day settled on us like dust after a storm. Darian broke it first.
“That was… a lot of revelations,” he said carefully
I nodded. He was trying to play it cool, but I saw the tension in his jaw. Lydia hadn’t been kind in the way she’d spoken of
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his mother, and I could tell it sat heavy with him. I put a hand on his shoulder.
“You are not your mother, Darian. You’re still my little brother. That won’t change.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
+8 Points >
Trying to lighten the mood, I added, “Hell, if it weren’t for your mother, I wouldn’t have a brother at all. Wouldn’t have Mara,
either.”
It sounded twisted, even to my own ears, but it was true. As much as I hated what Martha had done, she’d inadvertently brought people into my life I couldn’t imagine losing.
Denis leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Who do you think poisoned your mother?”
The room went quiet.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. The words tasted bitter.
“Father has no clue either,” Darian added. “Probably never did.”
And just like that, we hit a wall-hard and cold. My mother’s death was a mystery buried with her, and the only man who
might hold the answers had lied to me too many times to trust.
“We’ll have to put the investigation on hold,” I said.
Darian spun toward me. “What about Alaric Moongrove?”
I gave him a faint smile. “We’re still going to Goldenpeak. I’m not done asking questions. But I’m not flying your
grandparents in on my dime, Darian.”
His face fell.
“I don’t have a problem with you, but let’s be clear-my father let my mother’s family rot. There’s no universe where I’m going to turn around and spoil Martha’s.”
He opened his mouth like he might protest but then shut it again. He knew the line. And he knew I was already on the edge when it came to his mother.
“My grand-aunt and cousin are living like paupers,” I said, the words tasting like ash. “They’re the only blood I have left on my mother’s side. The least my father could’ve done was get them a decent house, a bit of help-two staff, maybe, just to ease the burden. Lydia might’ve had time for herself, might’ve found a mate, maybe even married by now.”
1 shook my head, trying to contain the fury simmering just beneath the surface.
“But no. It was my mother’s money, and instead of caring for her people, he handed it all to Martha-lavished her like a damn queen. Let her spend what wasn’t hers. Tried to cheat me out of my inheritance. And worse, he let her steal from
me.”
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I didn’t try to hide the bitterness in my voice. Darian stayed quiet, but I caught the way he lowered his eyes. He
understood.
“There’s no way I’m flying her parents in a chopper,” I said flatly. “We’ll go to Goldenpeak, get the answers we need, do the work-and then come back. I’ll send soldiers to collect her folks. That’s more than enough.”
Still, Darian didn’t protest. No tension, no anger in his eyes. Just acceptance. Maybe even understanding. That was all I
needed from him in that moment.
We spent the rest of the evening dissecting everything we’d learned-piecing together broken truths, speculating on missing ones. The weight of it all sat heavy on our shoulders. Eventually, we each called our mates.
Mara didn’t pick up at first. That wasn’t like her.
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When she finally did, her voice was distant, off.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
+8 Points >
She told me she was fine, but I didn’t believe it. Something was off in her tone-tight, tired, like she was holding something back. I let it go, thinking maybe it was just hormones, maybe stress. I needed to believe it was nothing bigger.
I told her what we’d uncovered-about my mother, about my father’s betrayal-and she was shocked. Quiet for long
moments, then full of questions. We talked for a while, but when the call ended, the silence hit hard.
The moment her voice was gone, I missed her. The bed felt colder. The room, quieter. I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours before sleep finally found me-and even then, it didn’t stay long.
