Semua Bab MY BROTHER-IN-LAW: Bab 51 - Bab 60

CAELEN VALENTINE'S POVThere’s a moment just before a gun is fired, where silence sharpens into something solid. Breathless. Bladed. Like the air itself is holding its breath in anticipation of who dies first.That’s what the gallery felt like.Silent. Cold. Waiting.The auction had ended hours ago, but no one moved to leave. The air had changed—buzzing with an unspoken expectation. Something about the way Lucian sat, like a god on a crumbling throne. Something about the way his fingers rested lightly over the edge of his glass, untouched. His eyes, though calm, were scanning—calculating.He had orchestrated this.This wasn’t an event.It was a ritual.And every predator in the room felt it in their bones.I stood beside him, flanked by Caisen and Conrad, still holding the quiet tension from the earlier altercation with Liam and Grayson Pittman. But even they, as powerful as they were, had retreated into the shadows like coiled serpents sensing a larger beast entering the room.Then L

CAELEN VALENTINE'S POVThe mansion was finally quiet.For the first time in years, maybe decades, its walls weren’t buzzing with the weight of legacy or whispers of power plays. The ballroom had been stripped of guests. The corridors no longer echoed with sharp-heeled ambition. Everyone was gone.The empire was caisen's now.And Lucian—my Lucian—was free.Not just retired, not just relieved—but finally free from the iron grip of duty that had wrapped around his throat since he was a teenager.Today was Sunday.No more mafia meetings, no covert flights across oceans, no endless strategies to keep the family’s name above the blood. No more late-night calls, no more polished smiles for snakes. Just… this.Just us.In his massive, dimmed bedroom, wrapped in silk robes, we sat shoulder to shoulder on his ridiculously oversized bed with the kind of snacks that would have made Caisen flinch in horror. Popcorn. Ice cream. Gummies shaped like weapons.And face masks.Yes. Face masks.Lucian’s

LUCIAN THRONE'S POVHe stood before me, flushed and unsure, his chest subtly rising and falling under the tension of silence. That bunny outfit barely clung to him—it was made for sin, for surrender. And him… he was made to test every ounce of restraint I had left.I moved in—slowly, like a wolf circling its prey.Caelen tilted his chin up, blind trust in those stormy eyes.“I’ve been waiting for this,” I muttered, voice gravel low, “for you.”I didn’t give him time to reply. I pressed my mouth to his in a brutal, claiming kiss—one that stole the air from both our lungs. His hands went to my chest, gripping the fabric of my shirt, trembling not from fear but anticipation. I slid my fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss, teeth dragging along his lower lip before I bit—not hard enough to bleed, just enough to make him gasp.“Lucian,” he whispered, almost pleading.I kissed him again. Slower this time. Tongues brushing, breaths mingling. I kissed him like he was oxygen. Like he’d d

LUCIAN THRONE'S POVThe mansion was chaos.But the good kind.There was wrapping paper everywhere — silky, glittery, completely over-the-top — and at least three shopping bags from Dolce, Dior, and something Aria couldn’t pronounce, but still squealed over when I handed them to her daughter.“Okay, last one,” I said, holding out a tiny pair of sparkly white boots that looked like they belonged on a fashionable snow princess.“Caelen, you said that five gifts ago,” Aria said from the couch, laughing as she tried to untangle her daughter from layers of tulle.“She’s my niece. She deserves an entire winter collection.” I pouted. “Besides, I only get to spoil her once in a while. And it’s not even spoiling if it’s... balanced.”Lucian walked in just in time to catch that line. He raised a brow. “Define ‘balanced’. You bought her a miniature tiara with real diamonds.”“She’s royalty in my heart,” I said dramatically, lifting the tiara and placing it on the giggling toddler’s head. She was

LUCIAN THRONE'S POVI’ve handled illegal arms deals in three continents at once. I've orchestrated political downfalls without blinking. I've sat across from warlords and slit-throated CEOs and never lost my calm.But this?This damn anniversary?It’s driving me insane.My office was a disaster. Papers tossed, drawers open, one of the shelves half-smashed because I threw a damn crystal decanter at the wall thirty minutes ago.“Lucian,” Conrad’s voice filtered through the speaker of my desk intercom, far too calm, “for the fourth time, do you want me to cancel your meeting with the investment board?”“Yes,” I snapped. Then I paused. “No. Wait. Yes. And shut up.”I ended the call.I stared at my reflection in the black screen of my laptop. Hair tousled. Tie abandoned. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar. I looked like I was going through a nervous breakdown. Because I was.What do you get for a man like Caelen Valentine?Not the cold Artist with knifes and brushes for words and silk in his v