Jason drove through the towering iron gates of the Lincoln estate, the car's tires crunching over the perfectly maintained gravel driveway. The estate sprawled out before him—a grand, imposing structure that combined Victorian elegance with a hint of dark opulence. Ivy crawled up the stone walls, twisting around the ornate windows that stretched two stories high. The manicured gardens flanked either side of the driveway, neat rows of hedges and topiaries casting long shadows in the dim evening light.
He pulled up to the entrance, and the moment he stepped out, a few uniformed maids appeared, their expressions neutral but alert as they offered him a polite nod.
"Welcome home, Mr. Kole," one of them murmured, bowing slightly.
Jason nodded briefly, his attention already on the quietness that enveloped the house. It was too quiet, even for the Lincoln estate. His brothers were off in various corners of the world, likely immersed in their own schemes or distractions. His youngest brother, meanwhile, would be down in the basement, no doubt isolating himself from the chaos of the family's affairs.
And trying to find this so called 'eclipse'.
His newest obsession. There were no girls in the family, just men, which is quite tiring at times.
Especially during festivities.
Jason sighed to himself. The isolation in this family was as familiar as it was suffocating.
As he made his way through the grand entrance hall, the silence echoed around him.
Heavy, ornate tapestries lined the walls, depicting scenes of power and conquest, reminders of the family's legacy.
Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their crystals glinting coldly, and the faint scent of polished wood and old money filled the air.
He turned down the hallway toward the living room, his footsteps softened by the thick Persian rugs underfoot. The dark, wood-paneled walls seemed to close in as he approached the doorway, bracing himself for what he knew lay beyond.
The first thing he noticed was his father, perched in a high-backed armchair near the fireplace, his posture as rigid as ever.
His sharp features were cast in shadow by the dim lighting, but his piercing gaze held all the intensity Jason remembered from years of scrutiny.
Dressed impeccably in a tailored dark suit, his father exuded a cold, almost aristocratic authority. Beside him sat Jason's grandfather, the elder Cole's once-steely gaze softened only slightly with age, though the air of quiet menace still lingered around him. He held his cane loosely, tapping it lightly against the floor as he regarded Jason with a watchful silence.
But what nearly made Jason groan aloud was the figure huddled on the couch, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
Fucking Christ, he thought. Joselle.
Her black hair spilled over her shoulders in carefully placed waves, her cheeks flushed as she dabbed at her eyes theatrically, her lips trembling in what was no doubt a well-rehearsed pout. The instant she saw Jason, her eyes widened, glistening with fresh tears, and she let out a small, heart-wrenching sigh.
"Jason..." she whispered, her voice cracking just so, her eyes fixed on him with a practiced softness.
Jason's patience was already wearing thin.
He looked from his father to Joselle, letting out a long sigh. "Really? Seriously? Did you actually call me here to referee a lovers' quarrel?"
His father's expression remained cold, his eyes narrowing. "Sit your butt down, Jason."
Jason raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway instead. "I'm fine standing, thanks."
His grandfather, watching the exchange from his armchair, shook his head, the tap of his cane against the hardwood an almost scolding rhythm. "Joselle was right about you," he said, voice low and laced with disapproval. "You've changed since this business started taking over your life. Disobedient, disrespectful… all this over a simple million."
Jason's eyes hardened, a slight glaze of irritation settling over them. He crossed his arms, his gaze cold as he looked back at his grandfather. "Right. And you? You started from worse. Funny how the history books don't mention that."
The elder Cole's face tightened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his cane. "Watch your mouth," he said, striking the cane against the floor, the sharp sound echoing through the room.
"Grandpa, please!" Joselle intervened, her voice pleading as she reached a delicate hand toward him. "Remember your heart, okay?" She turned her wide, tear-filled eyes to Jason. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult? This family only wants what's best for you."
Jason's gaze didn't waver as he looked down at her, his face impassive. "And what is 'best for me,' Joselle? Forcing me to sit through this lecture like a child?"
Joselle's lower lip trembled, her expression wilting. "No, Jason… but you're pushing everyone away. We're worried about you." She cast a glance toward his father, seeking support.
Jason's father gave a slight nod, his face unreadable. "You've got responsibilities, Jason. You can't keep running things like a one-man show."
Jason's smirk barely reached his eyes.
"So this is an intervention now?" He straightened, casting one last glance at his father and grandfather before his gaze landed on Joselle. "If that's why I'm here, consider your message delivered."
His father's voice cut through the tension, cold and measured. "No, Jason. The reason you're here is because Ryan is dead—and you had something to do with it."
Jason's eyes narrowed, his expression instantly hardening. He shifted his gaze from Joselle, who stared back with something between guilt and defiance, and returned it to his father, his stance refusing to yield even an inch. "Did they also tell you that's how I'd be dead too?" he replied, his voice cold. "Or do you simply not care?"
Joselle stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears as she dabbed at her eyes again. "Jason… the drink was meant for you. Ryan didn't have your tolerance, and you always took that drug," she insisted, her voice trembling for effect. "You supported it, encouraged it, even when we were all against it."