CHAPTER 9
1591 Words
Derrick noticed it before anyone said anything.
The phone.
It was sitting face-up beside his plate.
He wasn't touching it. Not yet.
But his eyes kept drifting back to it like it had weight in the room that everything else didn't.
His father noticed first.
The newspaper shifted slightly as he lowered it.
"You're distracted."
Derrick didn't look up. "No."
His mother paused mid-sip.
That small pause. The kind that always meant she had already observed too much.
"Child," she said gently, like she was testing the word on her tongue, "this is the first time I've seen you bring your phone to the table."
Derrick's fingers tightened slightly around his fork.
"I didn't bring it," he said.
"It is here," his father replied flatly, eyes still on the paper.
Silence settled again.
But not the normal kind.
This one had attention inside it.
His mother tilted her head slightly, studying him now.
"Child," she repeated, softer this time, "what's different today?"
Derrick finally looked up.
The expression on his face was controlled. Perfectly so. But there was something faint underneath it. A disturbance he hadn't named yet.
"Nothing is different."
His father lowered the newspaper just enough to look at him properly now.
That scornful look came first. Sharp, immediate.
Derrick returned it without hesitation.
Like it was inherited behavior.
Like neither of them ever learned softness.
His father clicked his tongue and went back to the paper.
But the mother didn't stop.
Her gaze stayed on him.
And then she asked it.
The question that made something inside Derrick tighten without permission.
"So," she said slowly, "you've seen him."
Derrick's jaw shifted.
"I thought this was about agreement," he replied.
His father didn't even look up this time.
"Stop avoiding," he said. "Answer properly."
Derrick exhaled once through his nose.
"I don't know him."
"That wasn't the question," his mother said.
Derrick glanced at her.
She was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that meant she had already decided where this conversation was going.
"What do you think of him?" she asked.
The room felt slightly smaller after that.
Derrick paused.
That pause lasted longer than he intended.
"I haven't spoken to him," he said finally.
"Then speak," his mother replied immediately.
"How?"
The question came sharper than he meant.
"How do I speak to someone I barely know?"
His mother leaned back slightly.
"Marriage is not like normal relationships, child."
That word again.
Child.
Soft. Constant. Unavoidable.
"It is long-term," she continued. "Whether you choose it or not, you must learn how to exist in it properly."
Derrick's fingers tapped once against the table.
His father added without looking up, "Stop acting like this is unfamiliar territory."
Derrick's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I am not acting."
His mother ignored the tension completely.
"Why not take him on a date?"
Derrick blinked once.
"...What?"
His father lowered the newspaper slightly.
That was new.
Even for him.
"A date?" Derrick repeated.
"Yes," his mother said simply.
His father nodded once.
"Good idea."
Derrick stood up immediately.
"No."
Both of them looked at him now.
His chair scraped slightly against the floor.
"I don't take strangers on dates."
His mother tilted her head.
"You will not be strangers for long."
"That is not the point."
"It is exactly the point," she replied.
Derrick's voice dropped slightly.
"This is not about feelings."
His father finally spoke again, sharper this time.
"Then treat it like duty."
Derrick went quiet.
That word always worked on him.
Duty.
Heavy. Clean. Inescapable.
His mother softened her tone again.
"When the elders summon you both," she said, "they will be looking at whether this arrangement appears stable."
Derrick understood immediately.
Performance.
Image.
Proof.
"You want me to act like this is real," he said.
"I want you to make it believable," she corrected gently.
His father added, "If you are going to carry responsibility, carry it properly."
Silence again.
Derrick exhaled slowly this time.
Not anger.
Not agreement.
Something in between.
Then he said quietly, "Fine."
That was all.
But it was enough.
His mother smiled slightly, like she had expected that answer all along.
"Good."
Derrick turned his head slightly.
Damian was standing near the far end of the room.
He hadn't spoken once.
But he didn't need to.
Derrick's eyes met his.
A silent instruction passed between them.
Damian understood immediately.
---
Nate was in class when his phone vibrated inside his bag.
Once.
Then again.
He ignored it the first time.
Then the second time.
The third time was just disrespectful.
He sighed, quietly opened his bag, and checked it under the desk.
Daniel leaned in immediately.
"What?"
Nate tilted the screen slightly.
Daniel squinted.
"...Why is your face doing that?"
"I don't know," Nate muttered.
The message was simple.
Damian: Grand Royal Restaurant. 9PM.
Daniel blinked.
"That sounds illegal."
"It sounds expensive," Nate corrected.
Daniel leaned closer.
"Same thing sometimes."
Nate stared at it longer.
"...Why am I being invited to anything by someone named Damian?"
Daniel shrugged.
"Maybe you're popular now."
"I hate that sentence."
The teacher's voice cut through the room suddenly.
"Both of you at the back. Is there a problem?"
Nate froze.
Daniel froze harder.
"No sir," Nate said quickly, sliding the phone away.
But the damage was already done.
The teacher narrowed his eyes.
"I don't want to see phones again."
"Yes sir."
As soon as the teacher turned away, Daniel whispered, "So... you're going to the rich people restaurant?"
Nate leaned back in his chair.
"I guess I don't have a choice."
Daniel grinned slightly.
"I think your life is turning into a drama series."
"I didn't audition for this."
"Clearly."
Nate stared ahead again.
"...Grand Royal Restaurant," he repeated under his breath.
Something about it didn't feel like an invitation.
It felt like a decision had already been made for him.
And somewhere, far across the city, another person was probably sitting with the same feeling.
Just not saying it out loud.
---
Derrick had not left his office all morning.
The files in front of him were open, but untouched.
His mind wasn't staying in one place long enough to read anything properly.
It kept drifting.
Back to the same thing.
The restaurant.
Nine PM.
A simple instruction.
But somehow it felt heavier than it should.
He clicked his tongue softly, leaning back in his chair.
Then he felt it.
That familiar irritation on his palm.
He looked down slightly.
His fingers were moving against each other again.
Small, unconscious.
Like they were searching for something to hold onto.
Damian noticed immediately.
"You're doing it again."
Derrick didn't look up. "Doing what."
Damian stepped closer, glancing at his hands.
"You're picking at your palms."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Derrick paused.
Then slowly closed the file in front of him.
"I'm working."
Damian tilted his head slightly.
"You're nervous."
A beat.
Derrick looked up sharply.
"I'm not."
Damian didn't react to the glare.
He just nodded slightly.
"Whatever you say, Alpha heir."
Silence dropped between them.
Derrick's stare hardened.
"Don't start."
"I didn't say anything."
"You implied it."
Damian shrugged.
Derrick stood up suddenly.
Chair scraping slightly against the floor.
"I don't get nervous."
Damian watched him calmly.
"That's good to know."
Derrick shot him a sharp glare.
"Shut up."
Damian said nothing after that.
But his expression said everything he didn't.
---
Across the city, the café was louder than usual.
Not because of customers.
Because of Daniel.
"Absolutely not," Nate said flatly.
Daniel leaned on the counter.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"I said no."
Daniel pointed at him.
"You are going."
"I don't want to."
"That's not the point."
Nate rubbed his forehead.
"It feels like the point."
Daniel straightened.
"You've been acting weird since the alley thing."
"I have not."
"You have."
Nate stared at him.
Daniel stared back.
Then Nate sighed.
"...I just don't like the idea."
"Of what."
"Of things going... wrong."
Daniel softened slightly at that.
Then before he could say anything else, Nate's phone rang.
He looked at it.
Immediate recognition.
He picked up.
"Hello?"
His uncle's voice came through, firm.
"You are going to that meeting."
Nate paused.
"...So it's confirmed."
"Yes."
Nate exhaled slowly.
"I don't want to."
"That is not part of the discussion."
Silence.
Nate looked down at the counter.
"...Is it necessary?"
"Yes."
That one word ended it.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then ended the call.
No goodbye.
Daniel watched him carefully.
"...That bad?"
Nate didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "I'm going."
Daniel tilted his head.
"I figured."
Nate dropped the phone onto the counter.
"I don't want problems."
Daniel leaned forward slightly.
"Then don't go alone."
Nate looked at him.
Daniel shrugged.
"I'll go with you."
Nate frowned.
"I'm not afraid."
"I didn't say you were."
"I just don't want things to go wrong."
Daniel nodded.
"That's basically fear with better vocabulary."
Nate sighed.
"Daniel."
"What?"
"You're not supposed to come."
"Why not?"
"It's... complicated."
Daniel smirked.
"Rich people complicated or life-threatening complicated?"
Nate didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Daniel leaned back.
"Then I'll be subtle."
"You cannot be subtle."
"I can try."
"That's worse."
Daniel grinned.
"Relax. I'll just be there. Worst case, I offend him."
Nate stared at him.
"That is not a worst case."
Daniel pointed.
"You underestimate my talent."
Nate shook his head slowly.
"...Fine. But don't make anything worse."
Daniel smiled.
"No promises."
And for a moment, the tension in Nate's chest loosened slightly.
Just enough to breathe.
Just enough to walk toward whatever came next.
- Writer
