Chapter 4-- The Cost Of Obedience

Chapter Four: The Cost of Obedience

The next morning, the estate was quiet.

Too quiet.

Lucien hadn’t been allowed to leave his room since the night of the accident. A tray of cold food had been shoved through the door sometime before dawn. No one spoke to him. No one checked on him. The silence was worse than punishment. It felt like exile.

His room, if it could be called that, was barely larger than a storage closet. The window was barred. The mattress on the floor was thin and lumpy. Most of his clothes had been taken away. The only thing he had left was the silver chain Cassian had given him and the notebook in his desk drawer, now opened to a blank page.

Lucien sat on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, the notebook resting beside him. He didn’t write. He couldn’t. His thoughts were too heavy, too loud.

His name was being tied to something he didn’t do. Again.

---

In the main house, Gerard poured himself a drink and stared out the tall windows of the study. The garden below was still wet from last night’s storm. The accident was already being spun. He had spoken to three reporters and paid off two witnesses. The story was being cleaned. Managed. Controlled.

That was how power worked.

Cassian entered without knocking. His jaw was tight. His eyes hard.

"You had no right," he said.

Gerard didn’t turn. "You want to raise your voice to me, boy?"

"He didn’t do anything."

Gerard sipped his drink. "And he agreed to the lie."

"Because you cornered him. You threatened him. You didn’t give him a choice."

Gerard finally turned. "This family doesn’t survive on feelings, Cassian. It survives on power, loyalty, and strategy. You think I enjoy this? I am protecting what I built."

"You’re using your own son as a shield."

"He is nothing to this world. You are everything. That’s the difference."

Cassian stepped closer. "Then I won’t let him take the blame. I’ll tell the truth."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "You’ll ruin everything. The Kingsleys will never forgive us. They don’t tolerate accidents. They retaliate. Is that what you want?"

Cassian hesitated.

"You will leave for Switzerland tomorrow," Gerard said. "You can take care of my business over there. I am helping hand there."

"No."

Gerard’s voice dropped. "If you stay, I will kill Lucien. Slowly. And no one will stop me."

Cassian said nothing. He knew his father wasn’t bluffing.

"Obey me," Gerard said. "Or bury your brother."

---

That night, Cassian tried to see Lucien. The guards didn’t allow him past the hallway. The door was locked from the outside. Cassian left a folded note with one of the maids and whispered, "Put it under his notebook. Please."

He hoped she would.

---

Across the city, Zayn Kingsley stood by his sister’s hospital bed.

She lay still. Her face bruised. Her left leg in a cast. Tubes and wires connected to machines that beeped in soft intervals.

He hadn’t spoken since he arrived. Not even to the doctors. His guards waited by the door, silent, tense.

Finally, the lead physician stepped forward.

"Sir, she suffered a severe concussion. Internal bleeding has been controlled, but there’s damage to her leg. Recovery will take time."

"Will she wake up?"

"We believe so. But there’s risk of short-term memory loss. We’re monitoring her closely."

Zayn said nothing.

He reached forward and brushed a piece of hair from her face. Then he stood and turned to his men.

"Find out who was responsible. Every detail. Every name."

"Yes, sir."

He left the hospital ten minutes later.

---

At the Kingsley mansion, his daughter, Amy ran to greet him as he stepped inside.

"Daddy!"

He caught her, held her close, kissed her forehead. "You’ve grown since this morning."

She giggled.

His two wives came into the grand hallway.

"We heard about Selene," The one named Daisy said. "Is she—?"

"She’s alive."

"Who did it?"

"I’ll know soon."

He didn’t stop to explain. He went straight to his study.

---

Later that evening, his phone rang.

"Sir," his guard said, "we found something. The boy’s name is Lucien Ainsworth. Seventeen. He took the car."

Zayn paused.

"Ainsworth."

"Yes. The youngest son. Hidden. Rumor is, he doesn’t exist publicly."

Zayn ended the call.

He stood still for a moment.

Then he whispered, "So they think they can hide him."

He poured a drink. Took one sip.

Then smashed the glass against the wall.

"Bring me Gerard Ainsworth. I want a meeting. And when you find the boy... don’t touch him. Just watch."

---

By morning, the storm had already begun.

And Lucien, still locked in his room, had no idea that the world was finally starting to see him.

Not as a ghost.

But as a target.