My Neighbour Is My Cousin Brother

The Tears

Chapter Four: The Golden Cage

The drive to Leo’s private estate was conducted in a silence so thick it felt like physical pressure. Mark stared out the tinted window, watching the familiar streets of the city blur into the high-walled, manicured privacy of the elite suburbs. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt the ghost of Leo’s lips on his—a brand that wouldn't wash off.

When the car finally hissed to a stop in front of Leo’s modern, glass-and-steel mansion, Mark didn't wait for the driver. He shoved the door open and stumbled out, his legs feeling like lead.

Leo followed him inside, his footsteps echoing rhythmically on the polished marble floors. The moment the heavy front doors clicked shut, isolating them from the world, Mark spun around.

"How dare you!" Mark’s voice cracked, a raw, jagged sound that tore through the sterile air of the foyer. "How dare you touch me like that! How dare you use me like a prop in your sick little game!"

Leo didn't even flinch. He walked past Mark toward the sunken living room, unbuttoning his suit jacket with a casual elegance that made Mark want to scream. He tossed the jacket onto a designer leather sofa and poured himself a glass of water from a crystal caraaper.

"Lower your voice, Mark," Leo said, his back turned. "The staff doesn't need to hear your dramatics."

"Dramatics?" Mark ran a hand through his hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt the first sting of tears—hot, angry, and humiliating. "You just kissed me in front of hundreds of people! My professors, my peers, the people I have to look in the eye every single day! I am a joke now, Leo. I am the 'cousin-lover.' I am the 'gold-digger.' You’ve taken my dignity and set it on fire!"

A single tear escaped, rolling down Mark’s cheek. He wiped it away furiously with the back of his hand, but more followed. The weight of the day—the bullying, the whiteboard, the public branding—was finally crushing him.

"I’m going to tell them," Mark sobbed, his voice trembling. "I’m going to call my mother right now. I’m going to tell your father that you forced me. I’m going to tell them you’re a liar and a manipulator."

Leo finally turned around. He didn't look guilty. He didn't look concerned. He looked bored.

"Go ahead," Leo said, gesturing toward the marble console where Mark’s phone lay. "Call them. But before you do, you should check your messages. I imagine your mother has already seen the 'news.'"

Mark’s heart sank. He snatched his phone and saw a notification that made his stomach flip. It was a family group chat. A video—the video of the kiss—had already been shared.

Mother: Oh, Mark... we were so shocked this morning, but seeing you two together... we can see how much Leo cares for you. We just want you to be happy. If this is who you love, we will support you.

Aunt (Leo’s Mom): He looks so protective of you, Mark. Leo has been so cold for years, but he looks alive with you. We are so relieved.

Mark dropped the phone as if it had burned him. "No... no, they don't understand. They think... they think it’s real because they want it to be real."

"Exactly," Leo said, stepping closer. He looked down at Mark’s tear-stained face with the clinical detachment of a scientist. "Our parents aren't like the people at your college, Mark. They don't care about the 'scandal' of us being cousins. They care about stability. They care about the fact that I’ve finally stopped being a 'problem' for them. They’ve already accepted us. In their eyes, you are already my fiancé."

"I am not!" Mark shouted, his chest heaving. "I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate everything about you!"

"Hate me all you want," Leo said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous silkiness. "But look at the reality of your situation. If you tell them the truth now, you don't just 'expose' me. You break their hearts. You make your mother feel like a fool for defending you. You make my father realize his son is a fraud, which will lead to a financial war that will bury your family’s estate along with mine."

Mark shook his head, his vision blurred by tears. "You’re a monster. You’re using my own family against me."

"I’m using the tools available to me," Leo countered. He stepped into Mark’s personal space, forcing the younger man to back up until his shoulders hit the cold glass wall of the hallway. "You are surrounded, Mark. You have no allies. The students think you’re mine. The parents think you’re mine. Even the law, if I choose to involve it, will see a perfectly legal, consensual relationship between two adults."

Mark felt the coldness of the glass seeping into his spine. He felt small. For the first time in his life, his intellect and his hard work meant nothing. He was trapped in a world where money and power redefined the truth.

"Why me?" Mark whispered, his voice broken. "There are a thousand boys you could have picked. Why did you have to ruin me?"

For a fleeting second, something shifted in Leo’s eyes—a shadow of something dark and ancient. He reached out, his thumb catching a tear on Mark’s cheek and wiping it away with a lingering, almost tender pressure that made Mark shiver.

"Because you were the only one who didn't want me," Leo murmured. "And because you're an adult. Everyone else in the family is a child or an old man. You were the only choice that made sense."

Leo pulled his hand away and checked his watch. "There’s a guest room on the second floor. Your things will be moved here by tomorrow. You’ll stay here for the week while we 'settle' the public outcry."

"I’m not staying here," Mark said, though the protest felt weak even to him.

"You are," Leo said, already walking away toward his study. "Because if you walk out that door, the press waiting at the gates will tear you apart. At least in here, you’re safe. You’re under my protection."

"I don't want your protection!" Mark screamed at Leo’s retreating back.

Leo didn't turn around. He just raised a hand in a dismissive wave as he closed his study door, leaving Mark alone in the vast, echoing silence of the mansion.

Mark sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He had always been the one in control—the top of his class, the pride of his parents. Now, he was a prisoner in a house made of glass, branded by a man who didn't even know his favorite color, but who had claimed his entire future with a single, calculated kiss.

He was surrounded. He was alone. And as the sun began to set over the city, Mark realized with a terrifying clarity that the "one week" Leo asked for was never going to be just a week.