Chapter 6

William Vance

The camera flashes had finally died down, leaving the ballroom in a state of silence. The media team was packing their gear, their hushed whispers echoing against the vaulted ceiling.

Beside me, Elias was a statue of vibrating tension. The moment my hand left the small of his back, he didn't just move; he recoiled.

He didn't say a word. He didn't even look at Claire. He simply turned and vanished into the shadows of the grand staircase, his footsteps heavy and uneven.

"He's still adjusting, William," Claire murmured, stepping up to my side. She reached out, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve with a practiced, elegant grace.

"Three months isn't a long time for a boy who worshipped his father." She added.

"He isn't a boy, Claire. He’s twenty-four," I replied, my voice falling back into its natural, low-frequency hum.

I watched the spot where he had disappeared. "And adjusting implies a gradual shift toward stability. What I see in Elias is a structural flaw. If he isn't reinforced, he’ll shatter."

Claire sighed, a rare sound of fatigue breaking through her persona.

"Just... give him space. He’s brilliant, but he’s emotional. He needs to know he hasn't lost everything."

"He hasn't lost everything," I said, my gaze shifting to the dark marble floor.

"He’s gained a foundation. Whether he chooses to build on it is up to him."

I excused myself, giving a reason to review the final merger documents before the London markets opened.

It was a lie. The documents were perfect; I had drafted them myself. What I needed was to wash the scent of him off my skin.

***************************************

The next morning,I was in the dining room by 6:30 AM, my tablet open to the morning’s architectural briefs.

Order. Discipline. Precision. These were the pillars I lived by. But as I sat at the head of the obsidian table, my eyes kept drifting to the seat on my right.

The chair I had seen him occupy just hours before.

At 7:15 AM, the heavy thud of boots sounded on the stairs.

Elias walked in. He looked exhausted, the skin under his eyes bruised with dark circles, but his jaw was set with a hardness that made my pulse flicker.

He wasn't wearing the suit today. He was in a faded black hoodie and jeans that looked like they’d seen a decade of wear.

"You’re early," I noted, not looking up from my screen. "I assume the reality of your schedule has finally set in."

"The only thing that's set in is the realization that I’m living in a museum," Elias said. He pulled the chair out, and sat far closer to me than he had the night before.

I finally looked at him. Up close, the defiance in his eyes was blinding.

"Museums preserve things of value, Elias. This house is meant to produce them. I’ve looked at your university portal. You’re currently carrying a C in Advanced Torts.”

Elias let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "My father has been dead longer than we've been a family, William. Don't start acting like you care about my grades. You just care that I don't embarrass you in front of your board members."

"I care about the integrity of the Thorne name," I said, my voice dropping to a velvet rasp as I leaned toward him. The scent of him hitting me, clouding my focus for a split second.

"Your father built that name. I am simply the one ensuring you don't burn it down because you’re too busy throwing a three-month tantrum."

Elias’s face flushed, a bloom of heat creeping up his neck. He leaned in even closer, until I could see the golden flecks in his eyes.

"You don't get to talk about my father. You don't get to use his name to justify why you’re trying to put a collar on me."

"It isn't a collar, Elias. It’s a brace," I whispered. I reached out, my fingers hovering near his chin before I caught myself. I redirected the movement, tapping the table between us.

"The car is waiting. You will be in that lecture hall by 9:00 AM. And you will sit in the front row. I’ve already spoken to the Dean."

Elias’s eyes went wide with pure fury. "You did what? This is uni you can't do that!" He screamed. “That's dumb.”

"I ensured that your environment matches your potential," I replied, picking up my coffee. "Go. Before I decide that your personal vehicle is also a distraction that needs to be removed."

He stood up so fast his chair nearly tipped. For a moment, I thought he might actually hit me. His chest was heaving, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The friction between us was so thick I could almost hear the air crackle.

"I hate you," he hissed, the words raw and jagged.

"I know," I murmured, returning my gaze to my tablet. "Hate is a very stable emotion, Elias. It’s far more reliable than grief. Use it to pass your exams."

His chest rose and fell,eyes glaring at me before he stormed out, the front door slamming with a force that made the crystal chandelier in the foyer shudder.

I sat there in the silence, my coffee untouched. My hand was trembling but just a fraction, not enough to ruin the precision I demanded of myself.

I had mapped out this merger with accuracy. I had accounted for the market shifts, the legal hurdles, and Claire’s professional expectations.

As I stared at the empty seat beside me, I realized I had failed to account for the most dangerous variable of all.

I didn't just want to manage Elias Thorne. I wanted to see how much heat it would take to make him melt.

I knew exactly where the breaking points were. I just hadn't realized that one of them might be mine.