Chapter 71: Almost Dying Counts as a Family Reunion

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There are certain sounds that can ruin an afternoon before anything even happens, and this particular knock did just that with alarming precision. It was polite, which was the issue.

The Castelli staff usually walked around and waited with a kind of respectful patience that came from knowing exactly who kept them paid.

My family, on the other hand, walked in like they owned the place and everything in it.

I stared at the polished wood for a moment, half hoping the universe would take pity on me and make them disappear, before finally saying, "Come in."

The maid opened the main entrance door with her usual quiet efficiency, stepped aside, and Father walked in first.

Lydia followed closely, her posture already arranged into the careful elegance she wore like armor.

Then there was Blair, trailing after them, her sharp eyes sizing up everything, as if she had never entered a room without calculating its worth.

Don’t let them walk all over you again, don’t let them walk all over you again, don’t let them walk all over you again, don’t let them walk all over you again.

For several long seconds, none of us spoke.

The silence hung between us like a breath held too long, each person waiting for the other to exhale first.

My father’s hair was greyer at the temples, his expensive suit seemed to fit a little less comfortably than when he first bought it, and his expression wore a mask of concern that felt rehearsed.

The moment our eyes met, his face softened with that practiced paternal warmth.

"Alex."

He opened his arms as if the last year of absence had never happened, like a single embrace could erase the space between us.

I stepped back. "Don’t touch me."

His hands froze midway, suspended in the air like a gesture that had just become irrelevant.

The hurt that flashed across his face was almost impressive in its timing...almost.

"My son," he said quietly, his voice tremulous enough to suggest real emotion, "I just wanted to check if you were okay."

"I’m fine."

His eyes flicked to my cheek, lingering on the faint bruise that still marked the spot where violence had left its mark.

It wasn’t as bad as it had been yesterday, but the discoloration still contrasted against my skin, a reminder that yesterday had been all too real.

There was also a small cut near my mouth that was nearly healed, but I could still feel it whenever I moved my lips too much or tried to say anything.

Richard looked horrified, that familiar expression settling on his features with the ease of long practice.

"We heard what happened," he said. "Your mother and I were incredibly worried."

I stared at him, letting the silence do some of the talking for me.

Even as I desperately wanted to say Lydia was definitely not my mother and he knew it.

In the year I’d been married, my father had never bothered to visit me...not once. Not after my wedding, which had felt more like a business transaction than anything else.

Not when Frederick was dying and the weight of everything felt too heavy to bear alone. Not when I was living in a huge estate surrounded by strangers and rules I was still figuring out.

Not when I was supposedly becoming part of one of the most dangerous families in the country, a role fraught with its own unique threats.

Apparently, nearly getting killed had finally reminded him that he had a son.

How touching...the universe must’ve been working overtime on the irony of this crap.

Blair walked past Father without waiting for an invitation, her blue eyes already scanning the room as if measuring its worth by square footage and brands.

"I’m really glad you’re not dead," she said.

I slowly turned toward her, raising an eyebrow at the particular flavor of sincerity she had chosen.

She smiled, but it was thin enough to cut paper and sharp enough to draw blood if used carelessly.

"But let’s face it, I always knew something like this would happen eventually."

"That’s a strange way to say you’re glad to see me."

"I’m just being honest."

"That’s new."

Her smile vanished abruptly, replaced by the familiar look of someone who had just been denied the reaction they wanted.

Lydia shot me a disapproving glance, the same one she had perfected over years of parenting that revolved mostly around disappointment and correction.

"Alex, your sister is just upset because she was frightened."

Oh, so now she’s my sister?

I rolled my eyes, "She doesn’t look very frightened to me."

"You’ve always had a knack for turning everything into an argument."

"I learned from the best."

Blair crossed her arms defensively. "There he is."

I raised an eyebrow, the gesture almost automatic now. "Who?"

"The Alex who thinks he’s better than everyone."

I almost laughed, the sound stalling somewhere between disbelief and the tiredness from the night before. "Wait, me? Better than everyone?!"

Richard cleared his throat, a calculated sound. "Can we please stop arguing? We came here because we’re concerned."

I stayed silent, they sat down without waiting for an invitation. I remained standing, the distance between us feeling necessary.

There was something deeply uncomfortable about seeing them here. This place had started to feel like mine over the last few months, in small, gradual ways that I still hadn’t fully admitted.

My family didn’t belong here and their presence made everything feel smaller, as though the walls were closing in under the weight of old patterns and expectations.

Father started asking questions with the careful rhythm of someone who rehearsed them on the way over.

How was I feeling after the attack? Had I seen a doctor? Were my injuries being monitored? Was Lorenzo taking care of me? Was I sleeping well, or were the nightmares still keeping me awake?

Was married life treating me well enough that I could stop resenting the arrangement? Had I adjusted to the estate and its brand of controlled chaos?

I answered most of them in short phrases, partly because I didn’t want to talk, but also because every question felt like it was heading toward a place I had no interest in going. The performance of concern felt uneasy on top of the year-long silence before it.

Eventually, Father asked, "And your husband?"

I looked at him, waiting for the follow-up I already suspected was coming. "What about him?"

"He’s treating you well?"

"Yes."

"Good, good." Richard nodded several times, a little too emphatically. "He must be very protective after what happened."

"He is."

"That’s reassuring."

I kept quiet, letting the tension hang until it became uncomfortable. Father gave me that careful smile he always wore when he wanted something.

I’d seen that smile since childhood. It usually showed up right before he asked me to sacrifice something for the family’s greater good...a phrase that typically meant everyone’s greater good except mine.

He surveyed the room again, taking in the luxury with a mixture of approval and calculation.

"You seem really comfortable here."

"I am."

"And your new role must bring a lot of responsibility."

"Probably."

"You’re the Omega of the Don now."

I frowned, the statement hitting harder than expected. "Yes, Dad. I’m aware, I was at the wedding."

He ignored the sarcasm with practiced ease. "With that position comes access to certain resources."

There it was. The sentence landed softly, almost gently, but I felt the underlying meaning immediately, like sensing a shift in temperature before a storm.

I studied him, examining his pleasant expression that hadn’t changed. My stomach sank with recognition.

"Let’s cut the bullshit, Father. What do you want?"

Lydia sighed, sounding long-suffering. "Alex."

"No, let’s just cut to the chase."

Richard rubbed his hands together, the gesture small and restless. "The family is currently facing some difficulties."

I stared at him, letting the words sink in. "The family."

"Yes."

"The same family that never visited me...well except for Blair. But we all know her presence isn’t very welcome."

His expression tightened as Blair gasped, the edges of his performance starting to unravel. "That’s not fair."

"The family that locked me in my room."

"That was for your protection."

"The family that married me off for money"

"We provided you a good life."

I actually laughed at that. It wasn’t a joyful sound; more like a dry, incredulous noise that escaped me when I could have screamed. "Did you?"

Father’s jaw tightened, the muscle twitching once. "You have everything now."

"That’s not what I asked."

"You have a beautiful home, servants, security, expensive clothes—"

"None of that answers my question."

Lydia crossed her legs, the motion precise and controlled. "You’ve become very difficult, Alex."

"I’ve always been difficult. You just preferred me when I was too scared to say anything."

Blair rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, please."

I turned toward her, the frustration from the previous night still simmering. "What?"

"You’ve been living here for a year, and suddenly you act like you’ve suffered more than anyone."