Sylvain sat on the edge of the guest room bed, staring blankly at the wall. The penthouse was quiet now. Silas had left again after their tense morning, muttering something about meetings.

He was staring at the business card from Amelia, when his phone vibrated on the nightstand. Leon’s name flashed on the screen.

He answered quickly, keeping his voice low. "Leon? You okay?"

"Bro!" Leon’s voice exploded with excitement, loud and bright. "You won’t believe how today went! I got the job! I actually got it!"

Sylvain smiled despite himself, leaning back against the headboard. "That’s amazing. Tell me everything."

"Okay, so I got there a bit nervous, right? The owner, Mr. Park, is a really nice middle aged guy. He interviewed me right away. I told him it was my first job and everything, and he still hired me on the spot! I started immediately. I was serving tables and stuff — it was a lot, but I loved it."

Sylvain could hear the grin in his brother’s voice. It was the happiest he had sounded in months.

"I met this really cool customer too," Leon continued, practically bouncing through the words. "I didn’t get his name though. He came in near closing time. Super well-dressed, and he ordered a chicken sandwich and boba tea. I served him and we chatted a little. He was so nice! When he left, he gave me a $100 tip! A hundred dollars, Sylvain! On my first day!"

Sylvain’s smile faltered for a second. "A man?"

"Yeah! He said he likes the place and might come back. He seemed really smart, like he reads a lot."

Sylvain’s grip tightened on the phone. The word his brother was saying sent a cold shiver down his spine. He remembered the man from the dark sedan — the one who had destroyed their family. Could it be the same person? Or was he just being paranoid?

He forced his voice to stay steady. "That’s... great, Leon. I’m really happy for you. Just be careful, okay? Don’t trust people too fast. And text me when you get home."

"I will, I will. Stop worrying so much! Today felt normal, you know? Like before everything went crazy. I even bought us some snacks with part of the tip. Next time you visit, I’ll make you something nice."

Sylvain closed his eyes, throat tight. "I’d like that. Stay safe, okay? I love you."

"Love you too, bro. Talk soon!"

The call ended. Sylvain lowered the phone, staring at the blank screen. Leon’s excitement should have made him happy.

Instead, it filled him with dread. The man named mentioned..... the dark sedan... the way everything seemed to be circling closer. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his brother was walking straight into danger.

He lay back on the bed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. The pendant around his neck felt heavier than ever. Everything was connected, and he was trapped in the middle.

In the master bedroom, Silas stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear. He had listened to every word of the call through the hidden microphones installed throughout the penthouse.

A cold smile touched his lips. "Interesting," he murmured to himself.

He ended the silent recording and slipped the phone into his pocket. The game was becoming more entertaining by the hour.

Later that evening, Leon returned to the safe house, still buzzing with energy. He placed the snacks he’d bought on the small table and flopped onto the couch, replaying the day in his head.

He didn’t notice the dark sedan parked across the street, watching the house.

The penthouse dining table was set when Sylvain emerged from the guest room. His body still ached with every step — a deep, lingering soreness that made him walk carefully.

The night with Silas had left marks both visible and hidden. His throat felt raw and the thought of sitting down sent a dull reminder through his core.

Silas was already seated at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone with one hand while the other rested on the arm of his chair. He wore a crisp black button-down, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking every bit the composed businessman even at home.

In front of him was a perfectly arranged meal: grilled salmon, steamed vegetables, and a glass of chilled white wine.

Sylvain’s plate was different. A bowl of soft congee with shredded chicken and a side of mashed potatoes — gentle food for a body that had been used hard the night before. Silas had ordered it without asking.

"Sit," Silas said, not looking up from his phone.

Sylvain lowered himself slowly into the chair, wincing slightly. He picked up his spoon and began eating in small, careful bites. The food was warm and bland, but it soothed his sore throat.

They ate in silence for several minutes. The only sounds were the soft clink of utensils and the distant hum of the city far below.

Silas finally set his phone down and took a sip of wine, watching Sylvain over the rim of the glass. His gaze was sharp, almost amused.

"I saw your hands this morning," he said casually, as if commenting on the weather.

Sylvain froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. His heart slammed against his ribs.

Silas continued, voice low and smooth. "You stood over me while I was sleeping. Your fingers were this close to my neck." He held up his hand, demonstrating the distance with his thumb and forefinger. "You wanted to kill me, didn’t you?"

Sylvain’s spoon clattered against the bowl. He stared down at his food, cheeks burning with shame and fear. "I... I didn’t—"

"Don’t lie to me," Silas cut in, tone still calm but edged with steel. "I felt you there. I watched you struggle with it. You almost did it."

Sylvain’s hands trembled in his lap, he clenched and unclenched them. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "I was angry. After last night... after everything... I just wanted it to stop. But I couldn’t. I thought of what you will do to Leon. I couldn’t do that to him."

Silas leaned back in his chair, studying him with dark interest. "So you chose your brother over revenge. How noble."

He stood up slowly and walked around the table until he stood behind Sylvain. One hand came down on his shoulder, fingers pressing into the bite mark there. Sylvain hissed in pain but didn’t pull away.

"You could have ended it," Silas murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed Sylvain’s ear. "One squeeze and I’d be gone. But you didn’t. You’re still here. Still mine."

Sylvain’s breath hitched. "I hate you."

"I know." Silas’s hand slid up to gently cup his throat, not squeezing, just holding. "But you also want me. Your body betrays you every single time."

He kissed the side of Sylvain’s neck, right over one of the fresh bruises. Sylvain shivered, a broken sound escaping his lips.

"Finish your food," Silas whispered against his skin. "You’ll need your strength. I have plans for you this night."

Sylvain nodded shakily and picked up his spoon again. He ate the soft congee in small bites, cheeks still flushed, body tense under Silas’s touch.

Silas eventually returned to his seat, watching him eat with dark satisfaction.

When Sylvain finally finished, Silas stood up and offered his hand.

"Come," he said. "Let’s go to the bedroom. I want to remind you exactly who you belong to."

Sylvain took his hand without resistance. As they walked down the hallway, he glanced once at the ground wishing it would swallow him.