CHAPTER 4

For a moment, Jason let himself believe things were normal. That his dad was downstairs, reading the paper, his mom humming along to the radio as usual.

But reality was sharper. He sat up, eyes catching the neat gray suit draped over the chair. Adler’s. Mom must have left it there. It was crisp and well-kept just like the man himself.

He could hear the clinking of plates and Judy’s soft voice from downstairs while he took his time to dress, delaying what would inevitably be a morning full of forced smiles and fake conversation.

When he came down, Adler was already seated, sipping his coffee like he owns the damn house. It was undeniable though. He looked good—because why wouldn’t he? Perfect hair, perfect posture, like the universe just handed him mornings on a silver platter.

Immediately, Jason tore his gaze away before his brain got any dumber.

“Good morning,” Judy said, her eyes flicking from Adler to Jason.

He muttered something that sounded like morning and reached for the bread basket.

Adler nodded politely, gaze unreadable. “Sleep well?”

Jason ignored him, buttering his toast with exaggerated focus.

Judy cleared her throat. “There’s a gala tonight,” she said. “At the Governor’s estate. Adler’s invited… and they would like the family photographed. It’s important.”

Jason didn’t look up. “Family, huh?”

Judy flinched but Adler didn’t.

“They’re pushing a ‘community-first’ narrative,” Adler said smoothly. “A visible, united family plays well.”

Jason snorted. “Glad I’m useful.”

“Jason,” Judy warned.

But Adler didn’t rise to the bait. He just took another sip of his coffee like Jason was some overgrown teenager throwing a tantrum.

Jason muttered something under his breath, stabbed at his eggs, and sat through the rest of the meal in silence.

When the conversation turned to campaign donors, he stood, chair scraping lightly, and left without saying a word.

***

The gala looked like a scene straight out of a political drama. Strings of warm lights wound through the hedges casting golden halos over sleek hairstyles and glittering gowns. The air carried the scent of expensive perfume — floral, musky, a little too much and something buttery and rich, definitely from the hors d’oeuvres trays.

Everyone smelled of money and subtle arrogance.

Jason stood stiffly beside Judy, the starched collar of his tux digging into his neck, while photographers barked their names and captured smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes.

Adler slipped through the crowd effortlessly…hands shaken, backs patted, a joke here, a compliment there. He looked every bit the political star.

Jason stayed near the edges of the room, champagne glass in hand, trying to look like he actually belonged in this world. He took a few sips— “Mmm…” dry and crisp on the tongue with a faint sting at the back of his throat.

He was not glaring—not really— but his focus kept slipping.

Adler stood across the room, drawing attention without even trying. One hand rested in his pocket while the other moved with quiet precision as he spoke.

People leaned in…they always did. Men, women, it did not matter. Everyone wanted proximity. Like if they stayed close enough, some of that gravity might rub off.

Jason’s wandering gaze dropped to his lips—his smile. Slow, knowing, just crooked enough to feel intentional.

The kind of smile you don’t walk away from untouched. His lashes lowered slightly as he laughed, casting a soft shadow over his sharp cheekbones. It should not have looked gentle on a face like his. But it did. Somehow.

He caught himself staring and looked away immediately.

But a moment later, his eyes pulled back, like muscle memory.

God, he hated that.

Worse? It did something to him. Deep in his chest. Low in his stomach. That kind of ache you do not mention, not in public.

He took another sip of champagne.

Fuck.

He had looked too long.At him of all people.He ran his tongue along his teeth, swallowed hard and tried to look anywhere else but at him.

But right now his hands were already warm. His skin tingled, and he was now very aware.Too aware—of the man across the room who hadn't even touched him—

Okay,that's messed up. He said to himself.

His champagne disappeared after that. So did the next glass. And the next. At some point, he stopped counting. Ava would have told him to slow down. Dad would have—

“You’re Adler’s boy, right? The stepson?.” A man in a blue tie approached him near the terrace.

Jason’s mouth moved before his brain could catch up. “I’m not his anything.”

The man blinked. “Sorry, just—”

“I’m Duke O'Connor’s son,” Jason snapped. “Yeah, he was killed. Justice never came. And you all—sitting in your nice little suits, dining like kings, acting like the world is yours to control.”

The man stepped back, face paling. “Okay, wow. Right. Excuse me.”

He disappeared into the crowd.

Jason stood there, breath still catching at the edges. A few people had turned.

Most pretended they did not. Glasses clinked. Laughter returned. But the air felt thinner now.

Well, that was not good.

He rubbed a hand down his face. Anger still pulsed, but embarrassment was creeping in—slow and sour like a hangover he hadn’t earned yet.

Still, he reached for another glass, let the champagne burn cold down his throat.

Not tonight. He would deal with it tomorrow.

***

The article dropped by 10 a.m.

“Newlywed Senate Contender Faces Family Rift—Stepson’s Gala Outburst Raises Eyebrows”

Jason slammed his phone facedown on the dining table, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He could feel the blood drain from his face.

Silence settled around him as Judy had already left early for a meeting. No goodbye which was unusual but he did not need to ask why.

He knew she didn’t want to see him. Probably didn’t even want to look at him.

His chest tightened. Embarrassment burned in his gut, hot. He ran a hand down his face, the ache behind his eyes a dull reminder of how much he'd had to drink. Too much.

He should’ve stopped.

He should’ve kept his damn mouth shut.

Adler would definitely have something to say to him.

Speak of the devil—

He entered the kitchen more composed than he expected, he always had this intimidating aura whenever he walked into a room —enough to make Jason's stomach twist.

Not in fear but in that strange, almost thrilling way he tried not to think about. He reached for a black mug and sat opposite Jason while scrolling through his phone like he was reading the weather report. He bet it was the damn article.

“Are you here to scold me?” Jason asked. His voice was hoarse. He had not slept much.

“No,” Adler said, setting the phone aside. “That wouldn’t help anything.”

Shit. It was it.