My Neighbour Is My Cousin Brother

The Gala Party

Chapter Twelve: The Exile of the King

The drive back from the restaurant was a blur of neon lights and frustration for Leo. He had left Lily sitting alone at L'Etoile, a move that should have felt like a betrayal of his "true love," yet his mind was entirely consumed by the image of Mark’s indifferent eyes. He needed to reassert control. He needed to remind Mark that the mansion, the name, and the very ground Mark walked on belonged to him.

When Leo pulled into the driveway, the mansion looked deceptively peaceful. But as he entered the foyer, he noticed something strange. The grand hallway, usually lined with his collection of antique umbrellas and his favorite mahogany coat rack, was empty.

He headed toward the master suite, his footsteps heavy on the marble. He pushed the double doors open, expecting to find Mark, perhaps waiting for a confrontation. Instead, he found a room that was chillingly vacant of his presence.

The walk-in closet, which had been filled with his rows of bespoke suits, was half-empty. His watches, his grooming kits, even the silver-framed photograph of his grandfather—all were gone. In their place stood Mark’s textbooks, Mark’s new designer bags, and a single, plush velvet chair that hadn't been there before.

"What is this?" Leo’s voice echoed in the cavernous room.

"It’s a reorganization," a calm voice replied.

Leo spun around to see Mark leaning against the doorframe. He was holding a glass of chilled white wine, looking relaxed, as if he hadn't just committed an act of domestic war.

"Where are my things, Mark?" Leo hissed, stepping toward him.

Mark didn't flinch. He simply pointed out the window toward the guest house—a smaller, albeit luxurious, stone building situated at the far edge of the garden, near the pool.

"I’ve had the staff move everything there," Mark said smoothly. "The master suite is far too large for a man who spends his nights at L'Etoile anyway. Since we are living separate lives, I figured a separate residence was appropriate. It’s for the best, really. It gives you all the privacy you need for your... meetings."

"You have no right to touch my belongings!" Leo roared, his face turning a dangerous shade of red. "This is my house!"

"Actually," Mark said, taking a slow sip of his wine, "per our marriage contract—the one your father’s lawyers drafted to ensure I was 'taken care of'—this mansion is listed as our joint primary residence. And as the spouse who actually lives here while you’re out chasing ghosts, I decided on a change of scenery. If you want Lily, Leo, you can have her. You can invite her over, you can write her letters, you can spend every waking hour with her. But you’ll do it from the guest house."

Mark stepped closer, his eyes cold and unwavering. "Don't bother trying to move back in tonight. I’ve already changed the biometric codes on this wing. You can stay in the guest house, or you can find a hotel. Either way, you’re no longer welcome in my bedroom."

Leo felt a surge of helplessness that was entirely new to him. He was the CEO. He was the man who dictated terms to billionaires. But here, in the silence of his own home, he had been evicted by a college student.

"You think this makes you win?" Leo whispered, his voice trembling with rage.

"I’m not trying to win, Leo," Mark replied, turning his back to him. "I’m just trying to enjoy the view. Goodnight."

The following evening was the Annual Blue Diamond Gala, the most significant social event of the year. For the elite, it was a mandatory display of wealth and power. For Leo and Mark, it was the first time they would appear in public as a married couple since the honeymoon.

The venue was a transformed museum, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sound of a live orchestra. As the black sedan pulled up to the red carpet, the flashbulbs of the paparazzi created a strobe-light effect.

Leo stepped out first, looking immaculate but strained. He waited for the door to open for Mark, expecting the same shy, hesitant boy who had clung to his arm at the wedding.

But the man who stepped out of the car was a revelation.

Mark wore a suit of ivory velvet with a black silk lapel, a daring choice that made him look like a piece of modern art. He didn't reach for Leo’s hand. He stood tall, his chin slightly lifted, radiating a sense of untouchable confidence. He walked the red carpet with a practiced grace, stopping to smile for the cameras not as a "husband," but as a star in his own right.

The whispers began immediately.

"Is that the cousin?"

"He looks... different. Powerful."

"Look at the way he ignores Leo. Is there trouble in paradise?"

Inside the ballroom, the tension reached a breaking point. Leo tried to keep Mark close to his side, but Mark was constantly being pulled away. Young entrepreneurs, venture capitalists, and even some of Leo’s rivals were circling Mark like sharks, drawn to his new aura of mystery and independence.

Leo stood at the edge of the bar, a scotch in his hand, watching a young tech mogul laugh at something Mark had said. He felt a hot, bitter coil of jealousy tightening in his chest. He wanted to walk over there and drag Mark away, to remind everyone that Mark belonged to him.

Then, the crowd parted, and the atmosphere shifted.

Lily had arrived.

She was dressed in a shimmering silver gown that clung to her curves, looking every bit the tragic heroine. She hadn't been invited, but as a daughter of a prominent family, no one was going to turn her away. She scanned the room until her eyes found Leo.

She began to walk toward him, her expression full of longing. Leo felt a momentary sense of relief—here was the woman he had fought for, the woman who made sense of his life.

But then, Lily’s gaze drifted past Leo and landed on Mark.

Mark was currently the center of a large group, holding a glass of champagne, looking down at his phone and laughing. He looked so vibrant, so full of life and defiance, that even Lily seemed to falter. The "innocent student" she thought she could easily replace had been replaced by a man who looked like he could buy and sell her family’s estate without blinking.

Lily reached Leo’s side, touching his arm. "Leo," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Everyone is looking at us. They’re talking about... him."

Leo didn't look at Lily. He was watching Mark. He watched as a waiter approached Mark with a tray, and Mark leaned in to say something, his eyes sparkling with a humor that Leo hadn't seen in weeks.

"Leo?" Lily tried again, her grip on his arm tightening. "Can we go somewhere quiet? I can't stand being in the same room as... that."

Leo finally looked at Lily. For the first time in ten years, he didn't see a soulmate. He saw a woman who was part of a past he was starting to lose grip on. He saw a woman who was demanding his attention while his husband was commanding the entire room.

"I can't leave yet, Lily," Leo said, his voice distracted.

"Why not?"

"Because," Leo said, his eyes returning to Mark, who was now being introduced to a famous gallery owner. "I have to keep up appearances. It’s for the family."

It was a lie. He didn't want to leave because he couldn't take his eyes off Mark. He was terrified that if he looked away, Mark would truly disappear into this new world he had created—a world where Leo was nothing more than a ghost in a guest house.

Mark, sensing Leo’s gaze from across the room, finally turned his head. He didn't look at Lily, who was still clutching Leo’s arm. He looked straight at Leo. He didn't smirk. He didn't scowl. He simply raised his glass in a silent, mocking toast, then turned back to his conversation, leaving Leo standing in the shadows of his own past.

The Gala had only just begun, but as the music swelled and the lights glittered, Leo realized he was no longer the one holding the cards. He was the one standing on the outside, watching his husband burn his world down, one smile at a time.