His to Ruin

Watch Me Pretend This is a Sanctuary

Abraham was still asleep in the bedroom—our bedroom, technically. I still couldn’t sleep alone. Not in that lavish guest suite Alec had prepared for me in the east wing. Too far. Too quiet. Too dangerous. Every time I closed my eyes in there, all I could see was Alec standing in the doorway, his eyes dark, his hands soaked in my blood.

So I stayed by Abraham’s side. Listening to his soft breathing. Feeling safe just because he existed.

Now, in the kitchen, I busied myself. Eggs whisked in a large bowl, bacon sizzling in the pan. The scent was grounding, though my hands still trembled slightly as I sliced the bread.

My laptop was open on the marble counter, screen cluttered with overlapping tabs. Private school promo videos played on a loop:

“Exclusive Preparatory Programs for Gifted Children.”

“Nurturing Confidence and Intelligence at a Young Age.”

“The Verendale School: Where Futures Are Built.”

The schools were all around Manhattan. Pricey, obviously. But I’d been saving for Abraham since the day he was born. Every freelance gig, every bonus from those design projects back in Maine, I'd stashed it all away. For this. For an education no one could take from him. Not his father. Not his bloodline. Not anyone.

He was only four, but Abraham was… different. Curious in ways that scared me. He spoke like a ten-year-old. Did math in his head. Remembered things I’d forgotten. He was ready, even if the world wasn’t.

My body locked up instantly. A cold pressure crept up the back of my neck, like air leaking in from the wrong direction.

I turned.

Alec stood in the doorway, one shoulder leaned against the frame, a white towel slung over his neck as he wiped sweat from the back of it.

His shirt clung to him. Black, damp, paper-thin. His hair was tousled, still damp, strands falling across his forehead in a way that shouldn’t look as deliberate as it did. Alec always looked like a threat carved from marble. Too handsome to be that cruel.

“Morning,” he finally said, low and rough from a workout he probably just finished.

I forced myself not to step back. “Morning,”

He didn’t move closer. His gaze flicked to the laptop, then to the bacon. “You wake up early just to cook and binge school ads?”

I glanced at him, flipping the bacon. “I’m not the kind of person who sleeps well.”

He didn’t reply.

“Abraham starts school in a few months,” I said, unprompted. "I’m looking for the right place.”

“For a four-year-old?” Alec stepped in, grabbed a glass and filled it with water. “You’re enrolling your kid before he even knows how to tie his shoes?”

I turned. “He’s been tying his shoes since he was three.”

He took a sip, then stared at me. Long. Quiet.

Something shifted behind his eyes.

“I don’t care about the cost,” I added, softer.

Alec lowered the glass onto the counter. Slowly. He looked like the most dangerous lie I’d ever wanted to believe.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stood there, breathing slower now, eyes locked on me like he could see the thoughts I was trying to bury.

I flipped the last piece of bacon, the sizzle filling the silence that hung too heavy in the air.

Alec wiped the back of his neck with the towel, then tossed it carelessly onto a kitchen chair. The muscles in his forearms flexed with the motion. He moved closer. Finally.

His steps were slow, unhurried. But each one sounded like a threat dressed in patience.

I caught the faintest whiff of him as he stopped behind me. Not cologne. Not deodorant. Just sweat and something too primal to name.

“You know,” he said, voice low, breath brushing my neck, “if I wanted to kill you, Daniella…”

My fingers tightened around the spatula, every muscle locking before he could finish.

“…I would’ve done it the second you knocked on my office door.”

I turned slowly, my eyes meeting his. “Then why didn’t you?” I whispered.

His pupils flared slightly, some instinctive reaction, like a predator catching scent. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said, too calm.

So calm it cut deeper than shouting ever could.

I drew in a breath that sliced through my chest like glass but I didn’t flinch. Didn’t back down.

He looked past me at the stove. “Your bacon’s about to burn.”

I didn’t move.

His eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’m just a monster, Dee?”

I lifted my chin. “I don’t think. I know.”

Alec gave a smile. Sharp, crooked, the kind that never reached his eyes. “Still, you came to me.”

“Because I had no choice.”

“There’s always the police,” he hummed. “Or church. Or God.”

I took half a step toward him, not even realizing it. “You think I didn’t try?”

Something flickered across his face. A tiny fracture. Almost invisible.

I turned back to the stove, plated the last bacon, and shut off the burner. “You’re not a savior,” I said finally. “And I don’t need one pretending to be.”

He stepped closer. Too close. Close enough that I could feel his breath. Warm, faintly sour from sweat. His hand lifted, just slightly, like he meant to touch my back then stopped. He let it fall again.

Alec inhaled, sharply, and stepped back. “Call me when Abraham wakes up,” he said, flat.

Then he left, leaving behind the scent of his body and the sudden realization of how hot the room had become.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gripping the breakfast plate tightly.

I wasn’t afraid of him.

But if he kept looking at me like that… I was afraid of myself.

::

The sound of small, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Seconds later, Abraham appeared in the doorway, hair damp at the front, standing tall in his dinosaur pajamas that were getting a little too snug. Mismatched socks peeked from under his pants.

“I’m awake!” he announced proudly, throwing his arms up.

I turned from the table, already set. “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Wash your face?”

“With soap!” he added, patting his own cheeks like proof.

His skin was cool and clean as I kissed him when he ran up. I could still smell the mint of his toothpaste.

“Did you wear those socks on purpose?” I asked, glancing down.

He looked, then shrugged. “One’s missing. Now they’re best friends.”

I laughed under my breath and shook my head.

The breakfast table was ready: crispy bacon, soft scrambled eggs with a touch of cheese, warm toast, and fresh sliced strawberries from the fridge. Abraham climbed up onto his stool, slipping a little, but steadying himself like only a child with zero fear of falling ever could.

He grabbed his fork and poked at the eggs, then looked up at me. “Mommy, it smells like that restaurant we went to on my birthday.”

I poured milk into his little glass. “The one with the mountain-sized cake?”

“The one where the waiter spilled sauce on my shoes,” he laughed through a mouthful. “But the food was good, so I forgave him.”

I sat across from him, watching him eat with that full, fearless appetite only children have. Abraham’s eyes lit up when he found the toast hiding under the bacon. He lifted it high like a trophy.

“This is hero breakfast,” he said with absolute conviction.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the weight of the moment settle deep in my chest. Just minutes ago, this room had held Alec like a storm wrapped in silence… but Abraham filled it again with light.

And I would keep making this breakfast.

Keep protecting him.

Until I had nothing left to give.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway. Heavy. Unhurried. Steady enough that Abraham’s spoon paused mid-air.

Alec entered without a word, but the room shrank instantly, the air pressing tighter. He’d changed. No more black T-shirt. Now a light gray linen shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, collar half open. The faint shimmer of water still clung to his forearms from the shower.

Abraham wasn’t intimidated.

Quite the opposite.

“Uncle Alec!” he grinned, holding up a piece of toast. “You’re late. The bacon’s almost gone!”

Alec glanced at the boy’s plate, then pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sat down like he owned the morning.

“If I’d known bacon was on the line, I would’ve showered faster,” he said, grabbing a slice of toast from the platter.

Abraham chewed, gesturing toward the open laptop in the corner. “Mommy watched school videos this morning. She said I might go to big kid school!”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “Are you smart enough for school already?”

“I can read and count really fast,” Abraham said proudly. “And I like planets.”

Alec paused, then reached over and plucked a strawberry from Abraham’s plate, popping it into his mouth.

The boy frowned. “That was mine.”

Alec looked at him, unblinking. “Sharing is an important lesson. Especially if you want to get into a fancy school.”

Abraham considered that for a moment, then nodded, agreeing to the terms. “Okay. But tomorrow, you bring your own breakfast.”

A smile tugged at Alec’s mouth. Barely there. So brief I almost thought I imagined it.

He leaned back, eyes drifting back to me. “I know someone at Verendale,” he said evenly. “The head of the board owes me a favor or two.”

My body went still.

“If you’re serious about that school,” he continued, “I can arrange a meeting.”

“There’s no need,” I said quietly. “I’ve already chosen the right school for Abraham.”

Alec rested his arms on the table, fingers lacing together in a way that looked casual. His eyes lost all playfulness. The look he gave me was direct. Steady.

“Alright,” he said at last. “You can choose the school.”

I barely had time to exhale before he added:

“As long as the boy stays under my watch.”

I searched his face for a hint of humor.

There was none.

Alec wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t bluffing. Wasn’t exaggerating. “Every day he leaves this house,” he said, voice cool, “I’ll know where he goes. Who his teacher is. Who picks him up. Who sits beside him at lunch.”

Abraham, still scraping up the last bit of egg, had no idea his fate was being sealed between one bite and a stolen strawberry.

I held myself still. No flinching. No fists.

Just one slow nod.

Because that was the deal. Protection.

That’s why I came here, right?

But still… in the quiet that followed, the question whispered again.

If I ask so much from him…

…how much will he ask from me in return?

My eyes drifted to Alec.

To the sharp line of his jaw. The faint veins on his neck. The slow, unreadable sweep of his gaze as he looked at Abraham like he could see the boy’s entire future laid out like a blueprint.

He could be calm.

And still dangerous.

I let him win this round.

But the fear clung tight to my ribs:

And I still didn’t know what it was he wanted from me.