The moment Andrew stepped out of Harry’s classroom, the corridor seemed to freeze.
Within seconds, the hallway cleared; other students scurried away like rats evading a predator, desperate to stay out of his line of sight.
Just then, Molly popped out from around a corner, her timing so immaculate it was obvious she had been lying in wait.
Andrew’s jaw tightened.
He was in absolutely no mood to entertain her—or anyone else.
His left leg ached, a persistent, throbbing reminder of the past, and his feet were itching to reach the sanctuary of the Royal dormitories.
He needed to be alone.
He needed to untangle the suffocating knot of thoughts regarding Harry—his former best friend, his greatest betrayer, and his definitive enemy.
Yet the sole guardian of his daughter.
“You did well not losing your composure in front of him until the end,” Molly chimed in, effortlessly matching his hurried stride.
Her voice carried a sickeningly sweet edge.
“I’m sure it must’ve been agonizing, keeping your cool. Acting like his return doesn’t completely derail you, forcing up those fake smiles… all just to play the long game and get closer to him. I bet your hands were itching to strangle him the entire time.”
“Shut up, Molly,” Andrew muttered, not even looking at her.
“Oh, come on, Andrew. You can be honest with me,” she pushed, leaning in slightly.
“I am your sister, you know. When the dust settles, I’m the only one who truly has your back.”
“Molly, I said shut up.” Andrew stopped abruptly, turning a cold glare on her.
“I don’t want to talk to you. I want to be alone.”
Impatient and suffocated by her presence, Andrew barked a command to one of his trailing personal guards, handing over his cane in a defiant display of pride.
Without the support, his limp became noticeably more pronounced, a uneven hitch in his stride as he rushed forward.
Molly, hurried after him.
When Andrew barged into his private living quarters, the illusion of sanctuary shattered instantly.
The Mayfair twins had already comfortably made themselves entirely at home, lounging in his armchairs.
Molly caught the heavy oak door with her palms just before it slammed in her face, slipping into the room right behind him.
“Urgh! Don’t close the door on me, fuckhead!” Molly hissed, brushing past the guards and smoothing down her skirt.
Andrew didn’t acknowledge her insult.
He aggressively ripped off his tailored blazer, tossing it onto a side table.
He sank into his favorite wingback chair, loosening his silk tie with a sharp yank.
Just then he crossed one leg over the other, his gaze sweeping across the room, lingering on each occupant with exhausted annoyance.
“What are you all doing here?” Andrew’s voice was dangerously low.
“Andrew, we need to talk,” Bryson spoke up first.
His sharp face was sunken with displeasure, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“I am rapidly starting to feel unwelcome in my own quarters,” Andrew sighed, rubbing his temples as his patience wore paper-thin.
“Can you all just get the hell out?”
“Grandfather’s enemy is our enemy, and our enemy is your enemy. That is the family motto, isn’t it?” Bryson leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.
“So why the hell are you suddenly rubbing shoulders with the family’s enemy?”
Andrew let out a dry, humorless laugh.
“You should be asking Molly that. She’s the one who seems to have the hots for the enemy.”
“And you don’t?” Molly snapped back, her cheeks flushing.
“Andrew, this isn’t a joke, this is serious,” Bryan intervened, his tone calmer than his twin’s but equally heavy.
“I don’t owe you a damn thing,” Andrew cut him off, his eyes locking onto Bryson’s with a terrifying intensity.
“Harry’s sins against me are carved in stone. I haven’t forgotten. I hate him with every fiber of my being, to the point where I want him dead.”
“Then—” Bryson started, his chest heaving as he prepared to argue, but Andrew raised a flat, commanding hand in the air.
“Quiet down, Bryson.” Andrew leaned back, his voice dropping an octave.
“Harry may be my worst nightmare, and Grandfather’s ultimate target, and I will never forgive that bastard for what he took from me. But despite all of that… we cannot deny the fact that Harry bore my child.”
Bryson raised a skeptical brow.
“So?”
“So, what? Are you saying you’re still in love with him?” Molly pressed, leaning closer, her curiosity overriding her caution.
Andrew’s expression went utterly blank.
“What does it matter to you? All of you—leave my room. Now.”
“If you hate him so much, Andrew, let’s just make this simple,” Bryson said, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips.
“Let’s just kill him. It’d be just as easy as it was with his brother. Then we take the child, bring her into the family, and you can raise her yourself without the baggage.”
“YOU WOULDN’T FUCKING DARE!” Molly roared.
She slammed both hands onto the glass coffee table, the impact rattling the crystal coasters.
Bryson’s temper ignited instantly.
He stood up, his face contorting with rage.
“YOU BITCH! You are the one who dared to spread your legs for the enemy, and now you’re defending him?!”
Losing all control, Bryson grabbed a heavy silver paperweight from the side table and hurled it directly at Molly’s head.
She ducked just in time as it shattered against the wall behind her.
“You all need to forgive and forget the past!” Molly cried out, her voice trembling but fierce.
She clutched the small locket around her neck tight to her chest, as if drawing strength from it, prepared to defend Harry with her life.
“What happened back then wasn’t Harry’s fault! He was just a young boy who didn’t understand the weight of his words. All young children spread baseless rumors! Isn’t that normal?!”
The words ‘baseless rumors’ echoed in the room, and something inside Andrew snapped.
The fragile calm he had maintained since leaving the classroom evaporated.
Andrew lunged out of his chair with terrifying speed.
Before anyone could react, his hand closed around Molly’s throat, pinning her against the wall.
The veins in his forehead and neck popped out, pulsing with pure, unadulterated fury.
His teeth were bared, a low growl escaping his throat.
Bryan jumped up, his hands raised in panic.
“Andrew! Andrew, please, calm down! Let her go!”
“A baseless rumor?” Andrew hissed, his grip tightening.
Molly gasped for air, her fingers clawing helplessly at his iron wrists.
Her pale face flushed a dangerous, mottled pink as her oxygen ran out.
“Molly… do you have a death wish?”
“An—Andrew… you’re… hurting me…” she choked out, tears welling in her wide, terrified eyes.
“Are you standing there uttering this garbage because you truly don’t know what that bastard did to me?” Andrew’s voice shook with a lifetime of suppressed agony and rage.
“Or do you just not care?”
Molly’s face was wet with tears, her body going weak.
Molly collapsed to her knees on the carpet, clutching her throat, coughing violently as she scrambled to draw air back into her lungs.
“All of you,” Andrew said, his voice hoarse, quiet, and absolutely final.
“Get the fuck out of my room.”
None of them dared to utter another syllable.
Sensing the genuine danger vibrating off him, the siblings scrambled toward the exit, metaphorically tucking their tails between their legs.
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind them.
Andrew huffed out a ragged breath, throwing himself back into his chair.
He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking slightly.
“Fuck!”
******
At the campus grounds, while tension was reaching a boiling point within the Royal dormitories, Harry was taking a quiet stroll back from the campus library.
It was well into the night.
He had completely lost track of time while buried under a mountain of reference books, desperately trying to catch up on the years of academic work he had missed.
The vast campus grounds were eerily quiet, enveloped in a peaceful, crisp night air.
It was silent enough for Harry to finally let down his guard and think through the chaos that had become his life.
His sudden comeback.
Andrew’s suffocating, twisted contract.
But more than anything…
the agonizing ache of missing Lolleta.
He was so used to having his little girl around him at all times, her laughter filling his days.
Without her, the silence of the academy felt less like peace and more like a crushing, hollow loneliness.
“Harry McGuire… there you are.”
The voice shattered the silence.
Harry stopped walking, his body tensing as a group of five older students stepped out from the shadows of the courtyard trees, effectively surrounding him.
He didn’t recognize their faces, but he immediately recognized the predatory look in their eyes.
They meant trouble.
“Haaa, man, you’re a seriously hard person to track down,” the leader sneered, cracking his knuckles.
Harry gripped the straps of his backpack, keeping his voice steady.
“Are you guys seniors? What the hell do you want from me?”
“Nothing much,” the leader chuckled, taking a step closer into the moonlight.
“We were just bored, walking around, and we happened to bump into you by chance. And then it dawned on us… you’re not exactly anyone’s favorite person around here. In fact, beating you to a bloody pulp right now would satisfy a lot of powerful people.”
Harry’s mind raced, a specific face flashing in his thoughts.
“Did Andrew put you up to this?”
The seniors exchanged amused glances, laughing softly among themselves.
“And what if he did?” the leader smirked, his eyes turning cold.
He signaled to the large guys flanking him.
“Guys, grab him. Let’s take this piece of shit back to the base. We’re about to have some real fun with him.”