Chapter 10
1607 Words
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The sleek black car pulled up before the elite academy. The building towered with glass windows and sprawling grounds, children in immaculate uniforms laughing and chatting as their parents dropped them off.
But when Marcus stepped out first, followed by the towering bodyguard, the atmosphere shifted. Whispers spread like wildfire.
“That’s Damian Cole’s car.”
“Who’s the boy?”
“Do you think he’s related to him?”
Ethan climbed out, clutching his bag, his small figure flanked by imposing men in black. His eyes widened at the size of the school, but he didn’t shrink back. Instead, he looked awed, smiling brightly.
“Wow,” he breathed.
Teachers waiting by the gates straightened immediately, their smiles overly polite, their voices careful. “Welcome, Ethan. We’re very honored to have you here.”
The other children stared, curious, some intimidated. Ethan just grinned, oblivious to the weight of the Cole name.
Emery, watching from the car, felt her stomach twist. Ethan was safe—but safe in a cage lined with gold.
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Hours passed.
Ethan’s new classroom was filled with the children of politicians, celebrities, and CEOs. When he introduced himself...“My name’s Ethan Lincoln. I like math, and I want to be an engineer!” his classmates stared, whispering.
But Ethan didn’t falter. He dove into the lessons with excitement, raising his hand eagerly, solving problems on the board.
By lunchtime, some children had begun orbiting him, curious and fascinated. Others kept their distance, intimidated by the bodyguard who lingered just beyond the gates.
Ethan didn’t notice. He just enjoyed his first day.
Homecoming
That evening, the car returned to the Cole mansion. Emery rushed down the stairs the moment she heard his voice.
“Emery! Look!” Ethan shoved his notebook at her, pages filled with math problems and scribbled notes.
“The teacher said I’m really good! And everyone wanted to sit with me at lunch.”
Emery hugged him tightly, her heart swelling with pride. “I knew you’d shine,” she whispered, fighting back tears.
he giggled . “And guess what? My bodyguard scared off some kids who were being mean to another boy. He’s really cool!”
Emery forced a smile, though unease pricked at her. This wasn’t just school it was Damian’s power stretching into Ethan’s life.
That night, Emery gathered her courage. She found Damian in his study, standing near the window with a glass of whiskey in hand, city lights sprawling behind him.
“Damian,” she said softly. “I wanted to thank you… for Ethan. For the school. For the protection. It means everything.”
He didn’t turn immediately. When he did, his gaze was unreadable.
“You misunderstand,” he said calmly. “This is not generosity, Emery. This is control.”
Her heart sank.
“He is under my protection now. Which means, just like you… he belongs to my world. My rules. My reach.” He sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. “Remember that.”
Emery’s lips trembled. She wanted to protest, to scream, but fear held her tongue.
Later, lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling while Ethan’s soft laughter drifted from the room down the hall. Her brother was thriving, happy, and safe—but safe under Damian’s iron grip.
And Emery realized, with a hollow ache, that the cost of Ethan’s protection might be her own freedom.
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The Cole mansion had always been cold — a place where footsteps echoed like whispers, and silence reigned like a king. But with Ethan’s arrival, the air had shifted.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows, glinting on marble floors as he ran down the staircase two steps at a time, his laughter bouncing off the walls. Servants, once stiff and stone-faced, found themselves smiling despite rules of decorum.
“Miss Emery, your brother is… lively,” one of the maids whispered one afternoon, almost in awe.
Emery only smiled, her chest swelling with both pride and fear. Ethan had brought warmth into her cage. He had turned the tomb-like mansion into something almost alive. Yet she knew that warmth could attract dangerous shadows.
One evening, Emery passed Damian’s study, her steps faltering at the sight before her.
Ethan sat perched on Damian’s leather chair, tiny legs swinging, as Damian stood behind him, pointing at a chessboard spread across the desk.
“No,” Damian said, his tone, low but not harsh. “If you move your knight here, you expose your queen. Always think three moves ahead.”
Ethan squinted at the board, then laughed when he realized his mistake. “Ohhh, I see! Okay, okay. Let me try again.”
Damian’s mouth twitched — not into the cruel smirk Emery knew so well, but into something faintly patient. Something almost… fond.
From the doorway, Emery’s heart twisted painfully. Damian, the man who shattered her with words and control, was capable of patience, even warmth. Just not for her. For her brother.
She wanted to be happy her brother had found a protector. Instead, tears stung her eyes.
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The spell broke when the door swung open without a knock. Clara strutted in, heels clicking against the polished floor, her perfume invading the air before her smile did.
“Damian,” she purred, her gaze sliding straight past Ethan to the man she craved.
“I’ve missed you.”
But Damian didn’t rise. His gaze remained fixed on the chessboard.
“Later, Clara,” he said coolly.
Clara blinked, momentarily stunned. Her eyes darted to the boy, then to Emery, who lingered in the doorway. Disbelief flared into rage.
“You’re… playing games with a child?” Clara’s laugh was sharp, mocking.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Ethan, oblivious, looked up with a grin. “I almost beat him!”
Clara’s eyes narrowed, venom dripping from her voice. “Is that so? How… precious.”
But Damian didn’t even look at her. “Close the door on your way out,” he said, tone dismissive.
Clara’s painted smile cracked.
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Later that night, Clara cornered Emery in the hallway. Her heels clicked against the marble as she stepped into Emery’s path, her eyes gleaming with venom.
“Don’t think I don’t see what’s happening,” Clara whispered, her voice like silk over a blade. “That boy of yours… Damian tolerates him. Likes him even. But don’t fool yourself, Emery. It won’t last. He’s just another pawn in this game.”
Emery’s stomach dropped, but she stood her ground, clutching the railing behind her.
Clara’s smile sharpened. “And pawns? They’re the first to fall. Remember that.”
With a final glance, Clara swayed away, her perfume lingering like poison in the air.
Emery stood frozen, her hands trembling. Clara’s words clawed at her chest. She knew Clara was cruel enough to strike where it hurt most — and he was her heart.
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Emery’s Silent Vow
That night, Emery lay awake with Blake asleep in the room beside hers. She could hear his soft breathing, the occasional murmur of dreams. She pressed a fist to her lips, her tears silent but unstoppable.
Clara’s threat echoed in her head, and fear twisted in her gut. But beneath the fear was something harder, fiercer.
“I’ll protect you,” she whispered into the darkness, her voice breaking. “No matter what it costs me.”
The mansion felt colder again, but not from silence from the shadow of jealousy that had slipped in. Clara’s eyes were watching. Clara’s claws were ready.
And Emery knew that her brother’s laughter, his very presence, had placed a target on his back.
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The Cole family estate was nothing like Damian’s mansion. His was modern, all sharp glass and steel, a fortress meant to keep the world at bay. But this, this was a palace from another time. The gates loomed high, wrought iron twisted into elegant patterns. The drive stretched endlessly, lined with manicured hedges and marble statues that stared blankly as the car passed.
Emery sat stiffly beside Damian, her hands clenched in her lap. She tried not to stare too long, tried not to let her awe show. But the sheer weight of the place pressed against her chest. This wasn’t just wealth. This was a legacy. This was power carved into stone.
“Don’t gawk,” Damian murmured without looking at her. His eyes were fixed ahead, cold, and unreadable.
“I wasn’t,” Emery whispered back, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her.
When the car rolled to a stop before towering double doors, servants appeared instantly, opening them with mechanical precision. Emery’s stomach knotted. She smoothed her dress with trembling hands. This was her first time meeting his parents. Despite herself, she wanted to make a good impression.
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Damian’s mother stood in the grand foyer, her posture regal, pearls glinting against her neck. Her beauty was sharp, the kind that demanded attention rather than asked for it. Beside her, a man Emery recognized as Damian’s father shook Damian’s hand firmly, a reserved warmth in his tone.
But before Emery could step forward, another figure glided down the stairs.
Clara.
Her smile was radiant, practiced, and when Damian’s mother turned toward her, the entire atmosphere shifted.
“Clara, darling,” the older woman said warmly, embracing her as though she were blood. “You look exquisite. That dress suits you perfectly.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cole,” Clara replied sweetly, leaning in with the familiarity of someone who belonged.
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Starlight ✍️
- Writer
