LOGINThe drive back to the Wellman estate felt like navigating a funeral procession where Ethan was the only mourner. The silence of his luxury car was deafening, the leather seats offering no comfort for the hollow ache in his chest. Tim’s departure had left a void so sudden it felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of the vehicle.He was right to let Tim go alone—logic told him that, but his heart felt like it had been physically detached and left behind at the hospital.As the wrought-iron gates of the estate loomed ahead, Ethan’s phone buzzed again in the console. MOM. He didn’t reach for it. He knew the script. It was a broken record of bankruptcy fears, collapsing stocks, and the inevitable "solution" that Madison had been carving out of his life: Anne Marie.The name felt like a shackle. Ethan’s mind drifted back, pulled by the gravity of a memory he had tried to bury. He remembered a society function from years ago—a room that smelled of expensive cigars and desperation, a room t
The steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing filling the silence of the room as Tim sat anchored to Olivia’s side. He didn't move, his fingers entwined with hers, his eyes never leaving her face. He was waiting for a sign—any sign that the woman who had built him was still in there.Finally, the silence broke. Olivia stirred, her head lolling slightly to the side as her eyes blinked open. They were cloudy, hooded with the heaviness of the morphine, and a small, pained groan vibrated in her throat."Hey... hey, easy," Tim whispered, his voice thick with a relief so sharp it hurt."Paul, get the doctor," Tim commanded, not once breaking eye contact with his mother. Paul hesitated for a fraction of a second, watching the raw vulnerability in Tim’s stance before turning and slipping out of the room.As the medication began to settle into a more manageable hum in her system, Olivia focused on Tim. A weak but genuine smile ghosted across her pale lips. She lifted her
The moment Tim stepped through the sliding glass doors of Christoff Private Medical Centre, the facility's silence hit him like a physical wall. This wasn't the chaotic, crowded emergency room of a public hospital. Here, the air was climate-controlled to a perfect, crisp temperature and smelled faintly of expensive lavender and high-grade antiseptic.The waiting area looked more like a five-star hotel lounge; deep-seated Italian leather chairs were occupied by a few well-dressed visitors whispering into iPhones, while large, ultra-thin televisions mounted on the mahogany-panelled walls played muted stock market updates. It was a place where wealth was meant to cushion the blow of mortality, but to Tim, the luxury felt hollow—a gilded cage for his dying past.He walked straight to the polished marble front desk, his footsteps echoing on the pristine porcelain tiles."Hello," Tim said, his voice tight with a frantic energy he couldn't quite suppress. "My name is Tim... Tim Dorian. I’m h
The interior of the car felt like a pressure cooker. The scent of Ethan’s expensive cologne still clung to Tim’s skin, a ghostly reminder of the warmth he had just fled, now clashing violently with the sterile, cold aura emanating from Paul.Paul’s knuckles were white, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the black SUV so tightly the leather creaked. He drove with a reckless, focused precision, weaving through the midnight traffic as if he were trying to outrun the very image of Tim standing in that doorway.Tim sat in the passenger seat, his leg bouncing manically. His mind was a chaotic split-screen: on one side, the terrifying image of his mother in a hospital bed, her breath rattling; on the other, the look on Ethan’s face when the door had slammed.“I want to be there for you,” Ethan had whispered, his hand reaching for Tim’s one last time.“Ethan, please... I’d rather you don’t come along,” Tim had replied, his heart breaking even as his brain screamed for self-preservation.
The playful warmth of the terrace vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp dread that seemed to seep into the very walls of the villa. Ethan scrambled into his pants, his fingers fumbling with the clasp in his haste. Tim, acting on pure adrenaline, didn't bother looking for his silk shirt; he grabbed the oversized white cotton shirt Ethan had worn earlier, pulling it over his head. It hung low on his frame, barely covering the briefs he’d managed to find in the dark.Another violent bang shook the frame of the house. It wasn't a knock; it was a siege.Ethan led the way through the darkened hallway, his jaw set in the hard, defensive line of a man whose sanctuary had been breached. Tim followed a step behind, his bare feet silent on the cold marble, his mind racing through a list of enemies. Was it Madison? A debt collector? One of his own contacts?When they reached the foyer, Ethan didn't hesitate. He grabbed the handle and swung the door open, bracing his weight as if prepared to handle
The silence of the terrace was broken only by the ragged sound of their breathing as Tim surrendered to the inevitable. He couldn't argue with Ethan’s trust, and he couldn't outrun the guilt, so he did the only thing that could silence the noise in his head: he took Ethan’s lips in a kiss that was less of a greeting and more of a collision. It was vigorous, desperate, and fueled by every conflicting emotion Tim had absorbed that night—the rage, the pity, and the terrifying warmth of being seen.Ethan responded with a matching fervour, his large frame wrapping around Tim like a shield, their bodies blending as the first low moans escaped into the night air. They moved towards the mat in a slow dance of bodies and warmth until Tim lightened the mood with a tender kiss and carefully lay Ethan down.Ethan lay upon the luxurious surface, a story written across his face of desire and vulnerability. Ethan locked gazes with Tim, whose eyes were dark and ravenous with something more than just







