I sat across from Sylus, barely touching my food. He was eating quietly, lost in thought, until he suddenly stilled. His grip tightened around his fork, and he dropped it. When he looked up again, his eyes had darkened, something heavy clouding his gaze.
"I watched my mom die," he said, almost like an afterthought.
The words hung in the air, and I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. I wasn't sure what to say, or if I should say anything at all. So, instead I stayed silent, allowing the silence to stretch between us.
"I was eleven." He continued, his voice was low but steady, like he was forcing himself to get through the story. "She wasn't... in the best condition. Not for a long time. Back then, I didn't understand it, but I could see it in her eyes—she hardly smiled, hardly ever ate. Every day, it felt like a part of her disappeared, bit by bit, and no one... cared. Not even me."
He paused, eyes drifting into the distance, as if he wasn't looking at me—but like he was reliving that moment instead. I felt my chest tighten as I listened, my heart aching for him.
"One night, I couldn't find her. I searched everywhere, just a kid wandering through that big house, calling out for her, thinking she might've stepped out for air or... something. Anything. Then I found her. I ran, calling her name, but she didn't respond." He swallowed hard. "When I finally got closer, I saw her in the middle of the hallway. Hanging with a rope around her neck."
I gasped softly. My mind raced, trying to piece together the horror he must have felt as a child, but I kept still, listening. I knew there was more.
"I called out to her many times but she never answered. I yelled for help multiple times, both no one came. I don't know how long I stood there, staring at her, before it finally hit me. She was gone." His voice broke slightly, and I could see him fighting to keep his composure, his jaw clenched, eyes blinking rapidly as if he was trying to shake the memory loose. "I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just stood there, frozen. And that's how he found me—the man who fathered me, William Ashford."
Ashford. My stomach twisted. Sylus—an Ashford?
"He just looked at her. Like she was trash. I thought he'd help—call someone, do something. But he just... stared. And then he said the words I'll never forget." He met my eyes, his gaze burning with disgust. 'About time. She was a disgrace to the Ashford lineage. A mistake' His jaw tightened, and for a second, I could feel the anger burning off him. "That was it. No funeral. No mourning. Nothing."
The room seemed colder. I didn't know what to say. I didn't think anything I could say would matter. Instead, I let the silence sit between us.
"You hate them," I finally said, my voice quiet.
"Every one of them," he replied, without hesitation. "They took everything from me."
I thought I understood. His pain, his anger. But there was something else. Something I hadn't pieced together yet.
"So, you're... an Ashford?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Half-brother to Alexander. Same father. Different mothers."
I blinked. The realization hit me like a cold wave. "I didn't think you meant that literally. You two are actually... brothers?"
He gave a bitter laugh. "Unfortunately, yes. But I'm nothing like him."
I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but the words felt pointless. How do you apologize for something like that? Instead, I stood up, moving toward him before I even realized what I was doing. I wrapped my arms around him, offering what little comfort I could. For a moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, I felt him relax into the hug, just a little.
Before either of us could say anything, a voice cut through the moment.
"What the hell are you doing with my wife, Thorn?" Alexander.
Sylus pulled back, his expression hardening instantly. "Your wife?" he repeated, his tone cold. "Freya asked for a divorce. Or have you forgotten?"
I swallowed, feeling Alexander's eyes on me, burning with possessiveness. "I did," I confirmed, my voice barely steady. "I asked for a divorce."
Alexander's face twisted, his fury barely contained. "That means nothing. We are still legally married. That means you're my property. Mine, Freya, " he snarled. "Mine to use as I please. Only when I get bored of you are you allowed to leave."
I felt sick. How had I ever thought I could escape him? His words felt like chains tightening around me.
"She's not yours," Sylus said, his voice calm but firm. "She's her own person."
Before I could process what he'd said, another voice spoke.
"You're such a whore, Freya," my stepsister sneered, stepping forward. "Sleeping with Sylus Thorn now? That's why he's defending you. Isn't it? At least this time you know how to return the favor. All you've ever done is leech off other people."
Her words sliced through me, bringing back every insecurity, every doubt. Was she right? Had I always just been a burden? From my mother, to my father's family, and now Sylus?
Sylus started to step forward, but I grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Let's just leave," I whispered.
He hesitated
"Please" I begged.
He nodded, guiding me toward the door. As we reached it, Alexander's voice thundered behind us.
"You can walk out with him now, but you'll be back in my arms soon Freya—you belong to me! Forever!"
I didn't look back. I couldn't. The only thing I felt was the desperate need to get away.
Outside, the air was cool, but it didn't calm the storm inside me. We walked in silence to Sylus's car, and I climbed in, not saying a word. The drive back was just as quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts.
When we got to his house, I couldn't take it anymore. The weight of everything that had happened crashed down on me.
"I can't stay here anymore," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
Sylus turned to me, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I can't keep staying in your house. I just... I can't."