How Did You Meet My Son?

The living room had descended into chaos once more.

“How could you do this without telling us?”

“Do you even understand what this means for the family?”

“This is reckless... completely reckless!”

“Lucian, say something!”

Elara stood there, rooted in place, her ears ringing as the noise pressed in from every direction.

It felt suffocating, like being trapped underwater while the surface drifted further and further away.

She could barely tell who was speaking anymore. All she knew was that every word, every look, reminded her how out of place she was.

Tap! Tap!! Tap!!!

The sharp, unmistakable sound of a cane striking marble cut through the chaos.

The room fell into silence again.

“Enough, everyone! Where are your manners?!”

It was the kind of command forged by decades of being obeyed without question.

Grandma Hale straightened where she sat, her back impossibly straight for someone of her age, her cane resting firmly against the floor as if it were an extension of her will.

Her piercing eyes swept across the room slowly, silencing one voice after another until the air fell unnaturally still.

Even Lucian’s mother, Seraphina, mid-breath, lips parted to unleash another protest, pressed her mouth into a thin line and leaned back against the wall, restraining herself.

“All of you,” the old woman said sternly, her gaze unwavering, “calm yourselves.”

No one dared to interrupt.

“What is done,” Grandma Hale continued, her tone defeated, “is already done. Raising your voices will not undo a marriage.”

She paused, letting the words sink in.

“Sit down,” she ordered. “We will talk like a family.”

One by one, reluctantly, they obeyed.

They all sighed and took their seats, tension coiled tight in every rigid posture. No one looked comfortable. No one looked satisfied.

Lucian never released Elara’s hand. Not for a single second.

As they moved toward the couches, he guided her gently, his palm warm and steady against hers.

When they sat, he pulled her down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

His fingers remained tightly intertwined with hers, firm, unwavering, as though letting go, even briefly, was not an option he was willing to consider.

To Elara, that simple act meant everything. It was protection and reassurance.

It was a silent promise that no matter how ugly this conversation became, he was never letting her go.

Grandma Hale turned her attention back to her grandson, the severity in her eyes softening just a fraction.

The iron-willed matriarch remained, but beneath it lay something gentler, concern, curiosity, and unmistakable love.

“Lucian,” she said, her voice calmer now, “tell me, how did you get married without telling your family?”

There was no accusation in her tone. Only a question.

The room held its breath as everyone waited for his reply.

Lucian didn’t even hesitate for a fraction.

“I got married to her,” he said simply. “That’s all I know. She's MINE!”

Elara’s fingers twitched in his grasp, her heart skipping a beat.

“There’s no need for explanations,” he continued, his voice even, his emotion carefully locked behind restraint. “No need for details. I expect you all to accept that she’s my wife. That’s all.”

His eyes met his grandmother’s.

For the first time since the conversation began, something flickered there, vulnerability.

“Please don’t make things harder for me, Grandma.”

The room fell silent again.

Lucian Hale, cold, unshakable, ruthless, untouchable, was ever so slightly human when it came to his grandmother.

The rest of his family... well, he never cared about their opinions.

Grandma Hale sighed deeply, the sound heavy with years of wisdom and truths learned the hard way.

Seraphina rolled her eyes dramatically and leaned back against the couch, crossing her legs with irritation.

Sometimes, she truly wondered if she could swallow her son whole and give birth to him again, perhaps this time he’d come out with more than ten words in his vocabulary.

He had always been like this. Few words. Firm decisions.

A pain in the ass with a face that dared anyone to challenge him, including her.

Grandma Hale shifted her gaze then, away from her grandson, and toward Elara.

“My dear,” she said gently, “what is your name?”

Elara straightened instantly.

Her nerves flared, heat rushing through her chest, but she lifted her chin nonetheless. Her hands trembled slightly, but her voice did not.

“Elara,” she replied. “My name is Elara, ma’am.”

The old woman nodded slowly, studying her with a gaze that missed nothing.

“And may I know which family you come from?”

Elara stiffened. Family? The Vaughns? Or the family who left her years ago at the orphanage?

Beside her, Lucian’s jaw tightened visibly, sensing her discomfort.

“Grandma...” he began, a warning threaded through his tone, his eyes silently asking her not to push further.

But Grandma Hale had lived too long and seen too much to retreat now. Besides, she just wants the best for her grandson.

Before Elara could respond, Seraphina scoffed lightly, the sound cold and dismissive.

“What?” she said, looking pointedly at her son. “So now we can’t even know the background of our so-called daughter-in-law? Oh, please, Lucian. Don’t make this difficult for all of us.”

“Mom is right, Bro. Geez! Give us a break!” Lisa added harshly, folding her arms across her chest as she glared at Elara.

“I will stay out of this,” Felix muttered, lifting his hands defensively. “This is between you and them.”

Lucian opened his mouth to speak but Elara squeezed his hand. Not tightly or desperately. Just enough.

A silent message passed between them.

'It’s okay. Let me handle this.'

Lucian hesitated, searching her face. When he saw the calm determination there, he fell silent.

Elara looked at his family then, really looked at them, meeting each gaze without flinching.

“Actually,” she said calmly, “I don’t come from any prestigious family.”

Everyone raised an eyebrow at her response.

“I was adopted when I was seven years old,” she continued, her voice calm, honest, and unembellished. “I’ve lived with my adoptive parents ever since. They’re the Vaughn family. My full name is Elara Vaughn.”

A murmur rippled through the room. They exchanged confused glances.

"Have you heard of them?"

"No! Who are they?"

"Neither have I heard of them."

The Hale family stood at the very top of the world, money, power, and influence woven into every breath they took.

The Vaughn family, while respectable in their own right, existed far below their radar.

Lucian’s father, Nathan Hale, leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable.

“How did you meet my son?” he asked calmly. “And how did the two of you end up married?”