Chapter 13

{Julian’s POV}

The PlayStation controller vibrated in my hand, and for once, it wasn’t the most chaotic thing in the room.

“Headshot,” Aaron announced smugly, tossing back a handful of pistachios as my character dropped dead for the third time. “You’re slipping, Jules.”

“I’m relaxed,” I muttered.

“Losing, you mean.”

Marcus leaned back into the massive velvet couch, bottle of Peroni on his knee, expression unreadable as always. Luca didn’t even look up, boots on the edge of the coffee table, his long fingers drumming against the controller like he was playing jazz instead of combat mode. We were all here. The dethroned sons of Lachlan, gathered like broken kings around a console, pretending we didn’t just get publicly gutted.

“You’re getting your life back,” Marcus said eventually, his voice smooth and razor-edged. “There’s no one left to please, right?”

I clenched my jaw. He wasn’t wrong—no more George. No more bending to impossible expectations, chasing approval I was never going to get—no more begging for a seat at a table that was never mine.

“I’m not trying to please anyone,” I said coolly. “Not anymore.”

Aaron barked a laugh. “Right. Except maybe that chick you bent over in the pool yesterday.”

My hands froze mid-grip. “What did you just say?”

He grinned like the devil in a hoodie. “Come on, Jules. We all saw it. You weren’t exactly discreet. Williams saw. Half the staff saw. Hell, but you knew she was watching. The heiress. Hailey. You didn’t miss that look she gave you. And man, you knew what you were doing.”

Aaron pushed further. “You trying to punish her or seduce her?”

“Both,” I said. Blunt. Honest.

“You’re a jackass,” I muttered, but my pulse kicked up anyway.

“Relax.” He shrugged. “I’m just saying, it's nice to see the old Julian again. The one who didn’t give a damn. The one who took what he wanted. You’ve been so tightly wound for so long. This girl, Hailey, is bringing out the storm.”

“She’s not bringing out anything,” I snapped.

“Except your dick,” Luca muttered without looking up. He took another swig of whiskey. “Y’all are loud.”

The doors slammed open. “There you are,” Debra barked. “Sitting around like frat boys while your names are being dragged through the goddamn mud.”

And there it was. The storm had arrived.

She turned the TV off mid-match. Luca didn’t flinch. Marcus took a sip of his beer. Aaron sighed dramatically.

“What now, Mother?” I asked, forcing calm into my tone. “We’re in our house, in our goddamn living room.”

“In your house?” Her voice cracked like a whip. “In case you’ve forgotten, this isn’t yours anymore. None of this is. It belongs to her now. To Hailey Vale, the stripper heiress who just hosted a softcore orgy in our ancestral estate and made the cover of three tabloids.”

She flung a rolled-up paper across the room. It slid to a stop in front of Marcus.

“STRIPPING HEIRESS CLAIMS THE LACHLAN THRONE.

New Owner Throws Wild Pole Party in Billionaire Mansion.

I could feel my jaw ticking.

“She embarrassed the entire legacy. And you let her,” Debra hissed, whirling on us like a general surveying a failed battalion. “You’re all too spoiled to care. Did any of you try to stop her?

We looked at each other.

“Why should we?” Aaron asked.

“It’s her house,” Marcus added, stretching like a panther. “Besides, it was entertaining.”

Debra’s nostrils flared. “Entertaining?”

Aaron leaned forward with a crooked grin. “Honestly, it was fun. The best party this house has seen since George’s second wedding. You should’ve seen the east wing. Naked fire-breathers. A guy doing splits with a python around his neck. Iconic.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m dead serious.” He sipped from his drink, looking pleased with himself. “I think Hailey just taught this house what living feels like. We’ve been choking on rules and legacy and Lachlan pride for so long. Maybe we needed a little chaos.”

Debra looked like she might throw something. At me.

“Julian, do something, we can’t sit back and watch this girl inherit everything my father had. We need to know why George did this.”

I stood, slow and cold. “I spent my life trying to earn a seat at a table I was never truly welcome at. George wanted chaos. He got it. I’m done chasing ghosts.”

The room fell quiet.

Then Aaron, lounging like mischief incarnate, tossed a peanut into his mouth and said, “Agnes and her husband are running a DNA test on Hailey.”

My spine straightened. “What?”

“I’m just saying…” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, that signature smirk gone. “I feel it. Or maybe I know it. It’s either that Hailey was George’s mistress, or…” He shrugged. “George had an affair. None of us knew about it. Either way, she’s not some random nobody.”

“You have a point,” Luca said, not even blinking, his voice low and clinical. “George never did anything without reason. If she’s in the will, if she owns this house now, there’s blood somewhere. Either in the sheets or in the veins.”

Marcus exhaled slowly, like he’d been chewing on that possibility and didn’t like the taste. “If she’s blood… that changes everything.”

“If she’s blood,” I muttered, “then she’s still a Lachlan.”

Aaron scoffed, flipping through some trashy tabloid with a stripper on the cover and a headline about the dethroned Lachlans. “From where?” he asked, his tone sharp. “Because we all know George’s medical records. Vasectomy at forty-eight. Confirmed. Reversed? Maybe. Hidden love child? Possible. But it doesn’t add up.”

I didn’t answer. My gaze drifted to the window, to the silhouette of the east wing still flickering from last night’s debauchery. Somewhere in there, Hailey Vale was probably asleep. Or—knowing her—touching herself in one of those ridiculous silk robes, legs spread wide like she owned the sky.

She thinks the world is hers because George put her name on a piece of paper and handed her the kingdom we bled for.

But this wasn’t a game of winning.

It was a game of knowing the truth.

And the truth?

Truth always came with fire.