Page 51 of Goldrage
“I’m not speaking of the whore.” She waves dismissively, as if Aurelia is nothing more than an inconvenient stain to be removed. “I’m talking about your failure as a son. All those years, watching Lucian hurt me, and you just stood there. Silent. Complicit.” Her voice gains momentum, years of resentment spilling free. “But Julian—Julian fought back. Julian protected me. He understood what it meant to be loyal to family. That’s why he deserves to lead, why I did what needed to be done.”
Guilt tries to sink its claws into old wounds. She doesn’t know—could never understand—how many times my silence saved her from worse fates. The nights I steered Lucian’s rage toward business rivals instead of her flesh. The mornings I invented crises that required immediate attention, pulling him from the house before his hands could find her throat. The careful manipulations that kept her breathing when his moods turned black.
She sees only what fits her narrative: the dutiful son who failed versus the rebellious son who succeeded.
But it’s far too late to tell her those things. She’s far too gone for saving.
“This isn’t about Julian and you know it. This is about you wanting power. You want to run the Consortiumthrough Julian because he’s too blind to see your manipulation.”
The slap cracks across my cheek, her palm connecting with enough force to snap my head sideways. The impact reverberates down my spine and I flinch. My hand finds the wall for support, but I swallow the gasp that wants to escape. She doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of my pain.
“You were supposed todieyou miserable thing.” All pretense evaporates as she shows her true face—twisted with rage and thwarted ambition. “You were supposed to stay dead and let Julian take his rightful place without your interference. But here you are, corrupting everything and filling his head with doubts.”
I straighten with deliberate slowness, one palm pressed against my side. When I meet her gaze, I let her see exactly what kind of monster she created. One who learned control from watching chaos, who forged strength in silence. “The only corruption in this house comes from you. Julian knows it. Deep down, he knows, even if he’s not yet ready to admit it.”
Her eyes narrow to venomous slits, which deepens the purple of the bruises along her upper cheeks. “We’ll see. And we’ll see how long your precious whore survives carrying what she claims is a Harrow heir.” Her lips curve into a smile that could scare even the devil away. “Pregnancy can be such a… fragile condition.”
The air shifts. The temperature seems to drop as I take one careful step forward. “Touch her.” My voice emerges soft, which makes the promise infinitely more threatening. “Touch her and I’ll kill you myself.With my own hands. You may have birthed me, but you stopped being my mother years ago. I will end you.”
She takes an involuntary step back, her composure cracking at the absolute certainty in my tone. For the first time since entering my room, genuine fear flickers across her features. She recognizes what stands before her. Not the controlled son she thought she knew, but someone capable of the violence she’s only played at.
“You wouldn’t da?—”
“Try me.”
She retreats toward the door with less grace than she entered. Her hand fumbles for the handle as she keeps her eyes locked on mine, as if I might lunge the moment she looks away.
Maybe I would.
She slips from the room without another word.
My cheek throbs where her hand connected, a dull ache that’s really nothing when compared to the storm in my chest. I return to the window, seeking the anchor that keeps me tethered to sanity.
Aurelia remains in the garden, unaware of the war being waged for her survival two floors above. She’s stopped by the roses now, one hand extended toward a bloom she doesn’t quite touch.
I press my palm flat against the glass, wishing I could breach the distance.
I’m coming for you. And I’ll burn this whole fucking place down before I let her touch you again.
Whatever it costs—my life, my soul—I’ll pay it.
She’s worth everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JULIAN
The estate’s hallways blur together as I stumble through them, each door looking like the last. The bottle dangles from my fingers—when did I grab the whole fucking thing instead of just a glass? Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except drowning the voices that won’t shut up.
She’s carrying your child.
What if she’s not? Maybe it’s Adrian’s. Maybe both… I’ve heard of that. Read something once that it’s rare but possible for a woman to carry fraternal twins that have different fathers.
Fuck, the thought of sharing her, of her body taking both of us and creating life from that twisted union… My cock stirs despite everything, and I hate myself for it. Hate that even now, even after everything, the memory of her beneath me can still make me hard.
I lean against the wall, letting the cool plaster press against my forehead. The whiskey burns less now, each swallow easier than the last. But it can’t wash away theimage of Aurelia as she once was, when we were both young and life had potential.
Who crushed the people we used to be?
