Chapter 109: You Don’t Want To Let Him Go...
The engine falls silent with a smooth, whisper-soft hum, the last traces of vibration fading beneath my hands.
I sit for a moment in the sudden stillness, my hands resting on the steering wheel, the leather warm beneath my palms. The night presses against the windows, dark and quiet.
My father’s voice still lingers in my mind.
His smile.
His words.
That unexpected hug.
It’s strange.
For so many years, I’ve looked at him and seen only the Chairman of Roselle Group. Cold. Demanding. Unshakable.
But tonight, for the first time in a long while, he looked less like a chairman and more like a father.
I step out.
The door closes behind me with a soft, final thud, the sound swallowed by the quiet of the evening. I straighten my jacket, smoothing the fabric out of habit, and glance down.
The rose is still in my hand.
It’s perfect, really—deep crimson, almost black in the dim light. I hadn’t planned on buying it. I hadn’t even thought about flowers tonight.
The petals still hold a trace of moisture from the girl’s careful hands. She found me again tonight, her small face breaking into that bright, determined smile, her basket full of blooms that looked too perfect for this world. She pressed the rose into my palm with a wink and a promise that I would find someone to give it to.
I didn’t tell her that I already knew who that someone was. I didn’t tell her that I’d been thinking about him all the way home.
A faint smile touches my lips—unbidden, unwelcome, and yet impossible to suppress.
She’s a persistent little thing, that girl.
Loyal to her mission.
Somehow, she reminds me of someone else. Someone who waits. Someone who stays.
I walk toward the door, my steps unhurried, the rose held loosely between my fingers, its stem smooth and cool.
The familiar passcode clicks beneath my touch, the lock releasing with a soft mechanical hum. I push the door open and step inside.
Warmth greets me immediately. The air is rich with spices and something slow-cooked, a scent I’ve come to associate with him. The smile on my lips widens as I glance around, my gaze moving through the dim golden light.
Where is he?
The kitchen, of course.
It’s always the kitchen now. That’s where I find him most evenings—moving quietly between counters, filling the house with warmth and the scent of something homemade.
My smile deepens.
Then—
Something else. A thread of unfamiliar scent weaves through the comforting aromas of dinner.
Smoke and amber.
Subtle at first. Easy to miss. But unmistakable once noticed.
It lingers in the air like an unwelcome guest, threading through the warmth of the house, tainting it.
My steps slow. The smile fades.
Everic.
I step forward.
And there he is.
Everic sits on the couch as if he owns it—legs crossed, one arm draped along the backrest, his posture a portrait of lazy confidence. He looks entirely at home. Entirely unbothered.
My fingers tighten around the stem of the rose.
What the hell is he doing here?
Everic’s eyes lift to meet mine. A slow smirk curls at the corner of his mouth, spreading across his face as if he’s been expecting me.
"Welcome home, little brother."
His voice is smooth, coated in that familiar veneer of affection.
I don’t answer. My gaze stays fixed on him as I cross the room. Cold. Unmoving.
I lower myself onto the couch opposite him, leaning back and draping one arm across the backrest. The rose remains in my hand—an unlikely weapon, a quiet reminder that he has interrupted something I had been looking forward to.
"I think I should change my passcode."
Everic’s smirk widens, amusement flickering in his eyes. His gaze drops to the rose in my hand, lingering there for a moment before returning to my face.
"Ellis..." He tilts his head, feigning innocence. "Have you forgotten who I am?"
I look away. The motion is slow, deliberate, a dismissal clothed in calm.
"Where’s Silas?"
"We were chatting. He went to check on dinner." Everic’s voice is light, conversational, as if he belongs here. "I can’t believe you’re making him cook. You really never change, do you?"
They were chatting?
My gaze snaps back to him, sharp and piercing. Something dark twists in my chest.
"Why are you here?"
Everic shrugs, casual and unbothered. "I came to see my little brother. The one who’s been ignoring me lately for no reason at all."
I don’t respond.
I let the silence stretch between us. Let it grow uncomfortable and heavy. Let it press against him.
He leans forward, his voice dropping into something quieter, more deliberate, more dangerous.
"And you still haven’t answered my offer."
My response is immediate. Flat. Final.
"I’m not interested. Leave."
His expression shifts—a flicker of surprise quickly masked by the practiced composure of someone who isn’t used to being dismissed.
"What do you mean? You wanted a divorce. You said it yourself. You wanted out." His eyes narrow. "What changed?"
"I don’t owe you an explanation. Stay out of my life."
For a moment, he stays silent. His lips press together as he studies me, like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite solve.
Then his brow furrows, curiosity giving way to something sharper.
"Don’t tell me..." His voice drops. "You’ve actually accepted him. As your partner."
I don’t answer. I let my silence speak for itself.
He presses further, his voice edging toward provocation, his smile sharpening.
"Why are you silent, Ellis?" His gaze stays fixed on me. "I know you like him."
A pause.
"You were just pretending before. All that talk about not wanting him. All that nonsense about divorce."
His smile widens.
"You don’t want to let him go."
My fists clench.
The anger uncoils in my chest like something caged too long. It rises fast and hot, burning through the careful control I’ve been holding.
"Shut the fuck up."
My voice cuts through the room, sharp and final.
"It’s my life. You don’t get to interfere. It’s my decision whether I keep him or get rid of him. And I don’t need your offers."
Everic’s mouth opens, a retort already forming—
Then stops. His gaze shifts past me.
I turn.
Silas stands a few steps behind me, a glass of water in his hand. His face is still. Unreadable.
But his eyes—
His eyes are fixed on me.
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