EPISODE 11
ELIAS
The garden was still buzzing, laughter drifting through the warm evening air, blending with the soft clink of glasses and low murmurs of conversation.
But none of it settled in my mind.
I stood at the edge of the crowd, half-shadowed by one of the stone pillars, my gaze fixed on her.
Althea.
She stood near the tasting table, calm and composed, as if she hadn’t just dismantled my mother in front of everyone.
As if she hadn’t just done something I had failed to do for years.
My jaw tightened.
She hadn’t raised her voice.
Hadn’t lashed out.
Hadn’t even tried to win.
And yet… she had.
Effortlessly.
Respect earns respect.
Her words echoed in my head, sharper now than they had been in the moment.
Because she meant them.
That was the problem.
She always meant everything she said.
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through my hair, but it did nothing to steady the restlessness building in my chest.
She hadn’t changed.
Still calm.
Still controlled.
Still impossible to ignore.
And somehow… that made everything worse.
Because I had changed—or at least I thought I had.
I had learned control.
Discipline.
Restraint.
Built a life that didn’t revolve around emotions I couldn’t afford to feel.
And yet, one look at her—just one—and it all felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
My gaze shifted slightly.
She was smiling now, soft and quiet, as Mira said something beside her.
Aria stood on her other side, watching her with something close to pride.
She belonged there.
With them.
In that light.
Not in my world.
Not in the chaos my family would drag her into.
A sharp flicker of guilt moved through me.
Because despite everything—the distance, the years, the silence—she still fit into me like nothing had ever changed.
And I hated that.
“Elias.”
My name cut cleanly through my thoughts.
I didn’t need to turn.
My jaw clenched as I finally looked away from Althea and faced my mother.
She stood a few steps away, composed as ever, her expression unreadable.
“Come with me,” she said.
Not a request.
My eyes flicked back once more, almost against my will.
Althea wasn’t looking at me, but something in her posture had shifted—subtle, barely noticeable.
She knew.
She always knew.
I exhaled sharply and followed.
The corridor was quiet, the noise of the garden fading behind me.
Each step echoed faintly against the polished floor, too sharp, too deliberate—like everything else in my life.
Controlled.
Predictable.
Except it wasn’t.
Not anymore.
By the time I reached my mother’s suite, the tightness in my chest had sharpened into something harder, something restless.
I didn’t knock.
The door swung open.
They were already there.
Of course they were.
My mother stood near the window, poised and untouchable.
Lucia leaned casually against the chaise, one leg crossed over the other, her expression relaxed—too relaxed.
Like she had already won.
My hands curled into fists.
“What the hell is going on?” My voice cut through the room, sharp enough to still the staff.
“Why is she here? Why are you pushing this?”
My mother didn’t flinch.
“Pushing what, Elias?” she asked smoothly.
That tone.
Calculated.
Infuriating.
“Don’t do that,” I muttered.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Lucia pushed off the chaise slowly, her heels clicking softly as she approached.
“Elias… you’re overreacting.”
“I’m not marrying her,” I said flatly, not even looking at her.
“And you know it.”
That made her pause, just for a second.
Then she smiled again.
Soft.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
“You say that now,” she murmured, stepping closer, “but you’ve always had a way of coming back to me.”
I turned to her then, my gaze sharp.
“No,” I said quietly.
“I don’t.”
Something flickered in her expression.
Good.
My attention snapped back to my mother.
“And you—stop this.”
Her lips curved faintly.
“I’m not stopping anything. I’m ensuring things go as they should.”
A humorless breath left me.
“You mean the way you want them to go.”
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
“You’re not going to be with Althea.”
Just like that.
Final.
Certain.
My jaw tightened.
“She’s not part of your future,” she continued.
“She never was.”
“I don’t care,” I said.
Lucia stepped closer again, her fingers brushing mine—deliberate, possessive.
“You should,” she whispered.
“Because I am.”
I pulled my hand away instantly.
“Stop.”
But she didn’t.
“That’s the problem, Elias,” she continued softly.
“You keep pretending like this isn’t inevitable.”
“I said stop,” I repeated, my voice harder now.
“Or what?” she challenged.
That was it.
I shoved her hand away.
Hard.
“Enough.”
The word echoed through the room.
Silence followed.
Then—
“Elias.”
My mother’s voice cut through it, sharp and controlled.
“That is not how you speak to your future wife.”
Future wife.
The words didn’t even sit right.
“I am not marrying her,” I said, slower now, every word measured.
“And you don’t get to decide that for me.”
“Enough.”
She stepped forward, smoothing her gown as if this were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Then she reached for Lucia, helping her straighten, positioning her beside her like a statement already made.
“This is not up for discussion,” she said calmly.
“This is how you honor your obligations. Your family. Your future.”
My fists tightened.
“Obligations?” I let out a sharp breath.
“You think this is about obligations? You’re trying to control my life.”
Her gaze locked onto mine.
Cold.
Unyielding.
“Yes.”
The word landed hard.
Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
“You will marry Lucia,” she continued, her voice softer now but no less certain, “or you will walk away from everything.”
My breath caught as she stepped closer.
“The company. Your position. Your name.”
Each word settled deep, deliberate.
“You don’t have a choice, Elias.”
But I did.
That was the problem.
For a brief second, my mind betrayed me.
Not the company.
Not the pressure.
Not even Lucia.
Althea.
Standing in the garden.
Calm.
Unshaken.
Looking at me like she already knew I was losing this fight.
My jaw tightened.
Because the worst part?
She wasn’t wrong.
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling slowly.
“You’re asking me to choose a life I don’t want.”
“I’m asking you to choose the right one,” my mother replied.
My eyes shifted to Lucia.
Still watching.
Still waiting.
Still certain.
Something dark settled in my chest.
Because maybe that was the problem.
Everyone thought they knew my choice.
Everyone except me.
“I’m not deciding anything right now,” I said finally.
My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“You don’t have much time.”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because for the first time in years, I didn’t feel control.
I felt conflict.
And as I turned to leave, one thought followed me out of the room.
Not about the company.
Not about the pressure.
Not even about Lucia.
But her.
Althea.
Because somehow, she had become the one thing I couldn’t walk away from.
And that… was going to ruin everything.