I sat across from Vincent in his study.
Books lined the walls like silent judges. His silhouette was still, closed off—hands folded. Darkness hides what lies behind.
“I spoke to Dan today,” I said.
His posture didn’t change. Was he angry that I spoke to Dan?
“He’s… still healing. But he said you’re afraid.”
I saw the catch of his throat. He didn’t mask it.
“You think he’s fragile and needs your protection?”
I never said that. I was checking in on him and how you feel now,” I said softly.
Vincent stared at the desk, just for a moment. Then his eyes met mine. Empty, raked with unspoken trouble. “Do you want me to be a brother to a bastard child?”
I swallowed. “No. I want your brother back, Vincent. Your brother is not a bastard child”
He let the words hang like a challenge. Then he
