LUCIAN THRONE
I entered my office in my house with my secretary following me from behind.
I sit on my chair with my legs crossed." Did you get what I asked for?" I asked
"Yes sir." He handed me a file with the information I asked for Caelen.
I opened the file, reading the information. My secretary, Conrad William starts to recite the information.
"CAELEN VALENTINE, twenty-one years old. He lives in New York city, attends the Elite University, USA .
He is the third son of the Valentine family who owns a huge real estate business in USA, famous all over the country, But ....""But?" I asked
" He is the illegitimate son of the family. After ten years of marriage, his father started an affair with his secretary. Caelen is the result of that affair.
In his family, nobody seems to care for him. He is only there as a showpiece. So, their family doesn't have to go through a walk of shame.""What happened to the secretary?" I asked curiously.
"During the birth, the lady couldn't handle the pain and died while giving birth to him. Rumors are that his father's wife paid the doctors to kill her mother but we can't be sure as there is no evidence of the accusation."
I hummed at his words, and he continued.
"And yeah, one more thing. When he was thirteen years old. He gets molested by a group of gay people and he still seeks therapy for it but nothing helps. So, he indulges himself in drinking, sex and smoking weed.
The Most important thing is that he despise gay people."I looked at him, straight into his eyes, glaring at him. He knows my sexuality and still made a comment about it and even dared to highlight it.
"Get out of my office" I asked Conrad to leave.
Yeah! I am gay. I don't feel attracted to women. I found this out when I was fifteen years old. I used to play for my school football team and I started to feel attracted towards their muscular body.
At First, I was bisexual. I used to fuck every hole I get. Half of my life I spend experimenting with my sexuality.
But now I just fuck guys, Because they are easy to maintain."Well why would he hate all the gay men, that's so stupid."
Whatever it is, it is none of my business, he is going to be my brother-in-law. I should keep my distance from him.
I don't know why my sister found a homophobic person to hook up with.
Leave it. I put my thoughts aside and started to work on my new project ahead.At night, I am going down to have my dinner with my bodyguard by my side, Ilya. He is Russian and has been by my side since I slided into this business.
My late father allotted him to me. Since then he has been stuck by my side.Ilya Morozov, pale skin whiter than snow, blue eyes, sculpted jaw and 6'5.
He is also my best friend and gives fucking good advice but the fact aside it's more related to violence.This man doesn't talk but his fist speaks on a fucking loud speaker.I sit down on my chair on the dining table while Ilya sits beside me.
The maid starts to serve the food. While my sister came with her baby daddy by her side giving him physical support. If I didn't love my sister and she wasn't fucking pregnant with his child, I wouldn't even allow this man to become my chauffeur.She helps him sit on the chair.
Fantastic. Now I have to see my little sister doing stuff like this too." Didn't the doctor prescribe him a bed rest? What is he doing here?" I asked while sipping soup from my bowl.
"Well, I needed a change of environment. I was getting bored in that room" that stupid guy answered instead of my sister.
"And you thought it was a great idea to disturb my little sister who is by chance pregnant with your child" I gritted my teeth in anger.
"Well I wouldn't have done that if you wouldn't have beaten me like a maniac robot" he smirked.
The Audacity." Well you deserved it tho!" I answered with the same intensity.
" Stop it, you too. Just once think about my child before getting on each other's neck." She huffed.
"You need to calm, young mistress", Ilya senses her tension.I am seeing that since my sister got pregnant, Ilya has been too overprotective of her even more than me. Before he was always annoyed with her attitude.
Maybe because he likes kids and all.But he doesn't look like the type to appreciate a child.This motherfucker is more closed than a fucking box, it's so hard to get something on him.Suddenly, Conrad came up to me with tension displayed on his face and whispered to my ears.
" Sir, Mr. Caelens family has started to look for him in his absence. They have filed a police complaint for his missing"." You need to keep it a secret between us" I whispered back.
" But, sir." "Just do as I say"I nodded his head and turned back to leave.
His family has filed a complaint for him. Didn't his family hate him? It seems like there is more to the story than it looks.I need to delve deeper into it. Afterall He is going to be my brother-in-law and I need to check on his family's details for obvious reasons.I need to call Markus, I thought and went outside leaving the food untouched.
As I was walking towards the balcony, I called him. He is one of my most trusted men and can take out any information without anyone knowing.
After exactly three rings he picked up my call."How did you remember me today, yuvraaj" he said in his always mocking tone.
This guy can never be serious. "Markus, I have a job for you..."GRAYSON PITTMAN'S POVThe silence of the villa was a relief. The club was a distant, buzzing memory, all loud music and cheap bravado. I stood in the entryway, loosening my tie and rolling my shirt cuffs, letting the quiet settle around me. But the peace was short-lived. I heard the clink of glass from the living room, and a familiar sense of fatigue washed over me. Liam wasn't ready to stop.He was already at the bar, grabbing a bottle I knew he shouldn't touch—not tonight, not after what he'd already had. His movements were a little too sharp, a little too deliberate, a desperate effort to seem steady. He was a precious stone, and I was the one tasked with keeping him safe, but he was also a wildflower—beautiful, wild, and prone to pricking anyone who got too close. He poured two glasses, and for a moment, I considered just walking away and letting him be. It would be easier. But that wasn't an option."You’ve had enough," I said, my voice as flat as I could make it. It wasn’t a com
LIAM MARTIN'S POVThe villa was silent when we got back. The kind of silence that wraps itself around your shoulders and makes you feel a little too aware of your own breathing. My head was already buzzing from the drinks at the club, but for some reason, I wasn’t ready to stop. The city lights still glimmered beyond the balcony, and the night felt too alive to surrender to sleep.I tossed my jacket over the couch and walked straight to the bar, pulling out a bottle I probably shouldn’t have been touching at this hour. The expensive kind, the kind Grayson always drinks with purpose, never for pleasure. He stood near the doorway, his tie loosened, his shirt cuffs rolled, looking at me like I’d just committed some minor sin.“You’ve had enough,” he said, his voice that familiar mix of authority and disinterest. Not angry, just… assessing.“Enough for who?” I muttered, already pouring the amber liquid into two glasses. “Come on, Pittman. Don’t be a bore tonight.”For a moment, I thought
LIAM MARTIN'S POVThe private room’s door opened before we reached it. Two men stepped out, pale with the kind of fear that wears expensive shoes. They slipped past us muttering promises to improve. Inside, Namgyu lounged on a low couch like he’d invented comfort and licensed it. Dark suit, shirt open, a chain at his throat catching little moons of light. When he saw Sierra, his whole face changed, the posture of his mouth shifting from predator to man.“My wife,” he said, standing, voice like velvet cut on glass. She went to him without hesitation. He took her in with his eyes first, then his hands, as if to confirm the shapes matched. When his gaze flicked to me, the warmth didn’t vanish; it cooled. Not unkind. Appraising.“Liam Miller, Uhh Martin i mean.” he said. “You look like a trouble i am going to face soon.”“Definitely not responsible,” I replied, and earned myself a laugh.He poured drinks himself, which is how you know a king is in a good mood. “To art & my love,” he said
LIAM MILLERSierra’s fork hovered in midair like a threat. “You’ve heard of the organization, right?” she said, low enough that the candle between us flickered like it understood secrets. “The one everyone pretends doesn’t exist but somehow makes half the city behave? Leader’s name is Grayson Pittman.”My appetite evaporated so fast the steam off my pasta looked offended. “Never heard of him,” I lied, twirling noodles anyway like performance art.She leaned in, eyes bright. “They say he sits at the top like a beautiful guillotine. That he’ll smile at you while you talk and by dessert you’ll be missing a piece of yourself. There’s a rumor about a guy who lied in a deal. Came back without a tongue. Another one about a pit in his mansion. People go in. Don’t come out. Someone said he fed a traitor his own hand.” She shivered. “Pure psycho.”The meatball on my fork suddenly looked like evidence. “Fantastic dinner talk.” I swallowed hard enough to bruise my pride. “You’re ruining marinara
LIAM MARTIN'S POVThe pan hissed as the butter melted, thick and slow. My knife moved on its own—slice, scrape, drop—while my head wandered somewhere I wished it wouldn’t. That’s the curse of a quiet house: too much room for ghosts.Grayson Pittman was here tonight. Rare thing. Usually, the mansion just held his echo—meetings, flights, calls that never stopped. Lately, with Caisen in the mix, they were tearing themselves thin trying to leash a kingdom that didn’t want a leash. From what Conrad said, it was like herding wolves with a gold thread. Alliances where there used to be vendettas. Powerhouses who once spat in each other’s shadows now clinking glasses over the same table. Only those two could pull that off—Grayson with his cold precision, Caisen with that simmering steel in his veins.But all I could think about, standing there with garlic stinging my fingers, was how none of this started clean. Not for him. Not for me.I was seven when I met him. He was thirteen—already taller
LIAM MARTIN'S POVThe cursor blinked at me like it knew I was a fraud. Ten chapters in, and my manhwa already felt like it was circling the drain. Not exactly the dazzling debut I had pictured when I signed that contract. The comments section was a battlefield of “The story's bland” and “No spice, could be better,” sprinkled with a few dagger-sharp reviews that still managed to live rent-free in my head. I pretended they didn’t bother me. They did. I was mid-sulk when my phone started vibrating across the desk like it had a personal vendetta against my coffee mug. I glanced at the screen: Kim Seirra.I swiped to answer. “Seirra. To what do I owe this disruption to my artistic misery?”“Liam! You sound like you just got evicted,” she chirped, her voice annoyingly bright for someone who probably had a functioning serotonin supply. “Are you working?”“I was, if you can call staring at an empty panel ‘working’,” I said, spinning in my chair until the room blurred. “What’s up? Did your