Page 81 of Goldrage
“He’s still my brother. Underneath all the manipulation and madness, there’s still good in him. I have to believe I can save him.”
The raw devotion in his voice is touching despite everything. My body still remembers Julian’s cruelty and the way he delivered me to his mother like a sacrificial offering. But watching Adrian’s unwavering faith in his brother—this bond that survives even the worst betrayals—begins to soften my anger.
“You really think you can reach him?” I ask.
“I have to try. If I don’t, if I give up on him, then Lady Harrow wins. She’ll have successfully destroyed both her sons.”
I study the planes of his face. He refuses to let go, even when holding on cuts him to ribbons. After everything, he still sees his brother beneath the monster.
I don’t agree, but I love him. If this is what he wants, then I’ll support it. There’s so much at play right now, but what choice do I have except to release this into hands larger than my own?
“Then I trust you.” The words rise from some ancient place in my soul, surprising us both. “I trust your judgment, your timing, your plan. If you say Julian can be saved, then we save him.”
The way he collapses into relief makes me realize how terrified he was that I’d demand we leave Julian behind, that I’d make him choose between his brother and me.
He cups my cheeks. “Trust that somehow this will all work out. That we’ll save Julian, that Bianca won’t be pregnant, that we’ll escape this nightmare together.”
“I do trust you.” The surrender feels like falling—terrifying and freeing all at once. “Whatever happens, however this plays out, I’m with you.”
Another glance at the clock. Ninety seconds.
Before I can speak, Adrian crushes his mouth to mine, and I taste everything he can’t say: gratitude and terror, love and desperation, hope and the knife-edge of despair.
“I love you.” His words ghost across my lips. “More than life itself.”
“I love you too.” I memorize everything—the scent of his skin, the way his heartbeat syncs with mine, the strength of his arms. “Always. But we’re out of time.” He nods and I hurry out of his room.
The hallway’s shadows welcome me like an old friend.
Please, God, let Adrian’s faith be justified. Let love be enough to save us all. It’s in your hands now—whatever happens, let it somehow lead us home.
I vanish into the labyrinth of the estate. The man I leave behind in that room is worth any risk, any sacrifice, any blind leap into a future that promises nothing except more pain.
Sometimes faith isn’t about believing in God. Sometimes it’s about believing in the person who holds your heart, trusting that their hope is strong enough to carry you both through the darkness ahead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
DANTE
The dining room feels oppressively formal. Somehow, the crystal chandeliers overhead are brighter tonight. I sit in my usual chair, my wound only protesting mildly as I slice through my steak. Around me, the familiar symphony of our family dinners plays out—silverware against china, ice clinking in glasses, the soft shuffle of servants’ feet.
Valentine stands guard in the corner. More guards flank the doorways.
“—and then Margaret had theaudacityto suggest we read something that has won awards.” Bianca’s voice cuts through my thoughts like nails on glass. “I told her that’s not what everyone voted on. And she said what we voted on was trash and would kill brain cells?—”
I keep my expression neutral, focusing instead on the meat in my mouth. My wretched “wife” continues her monologue and I grip my steak knife tighter, trying not to think about what she did to me. Or if my child is now growing in her womb.
Patience.They’ll all get justice.
Bianca stuffs broccoli in her mouth and then rambles around the food. “Of course, then Patricia, well, she sided with Margaret. She said something about ‘expanding our horizons.’ I swear, the woman reads one bestseller and suddenly thinks she’s a literary critic.”
Across the table, Julian pushes food around his plate like a child avoiding vegetables. His movements are jagged and uncertain. Fork scrapes against porcelain. A muscle jumps in his jaw.
Lady Harrow sits at the head of the table, spine straight. But there’s a tremor in her fingers when she reaches for her wine glass. The matriarch is rattled. I doubt she’s aware that I know what she and Bianca planned against me, so I’m curious what’s shaken her. She glances at Julian and I wonder what transpired between them.
Is my brother finally seeing through her lies?
“—and I can’t believe Vivian said that. I nearly choked on my cappuccino.”
