Chapter 40 CHAPTER 40
Fortress
The estate was no longer a home; it was a fortress.
By the time Ares returned from the city with the children, the house staff had already doubled. Uniformed nannies moved briskly across the hallways, each assigned to a child. Armed security stood at every entryway, their earpieces buzzing faintly, eyes scanning every shadow.
In the living room, black monitors were mounted onto the cream walls, streaming live CCTV footage from every corner of the mansion—the nursery, the playroom, the gardens, the pool, the gates. Nothing escaped their gaze.
Ares stood in the center of it all, one hand resting on Pretty’s shoulder while Kamal clung tightly to his leg. His gaze swept across the screens, cold and sharp, before he spoke.
“From this moment on,” he said, his deep voice echoing through the hall, “Chloe is not permitted anywhere near my children. If she sets foot inside their wing, you remove her. If she tries to touch them, you drag her out. Understood?”
The guards nodded firmly, the nannies exchanging nervous glances before bowing their heads in obedience.
Beauty peered up at him with wide eyes. “Daddy… will Mommy not come home again?”
Ares knelt, pulling his son close. The girl’s small hands gripped his shoulders, desperate.
“Listen to me,” His voice softened, but it was steady, iron beneath velvet. “You and your siblings are safe. I promise you. Nobody will hurt you again. Do you understand?”
Jamal hesitated, then nodded slowly. Pretty buried her face against Ares’ chest, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a shield.
“Good.” Ares kissed her dark curls, then stood tall once more. “Now go with Nanny Elsie. She’ll take you to the bedroom.”
The children obeyed reluctantly, glancing back at their father until the nanny guided them away.
Ares remained rooted to the spot, watching until they vanished from view. His jaw clenched. He had been foolish once by trusting Chloe, letting her near the most precious parts of his life. That weakness nearly cost him his daughter.
Never again.
Later that evening, the heavy oak doors of the estate creaked open to reveal Julian. His arrival was like sunlight breaking through clouds—casual, relaxed, carrying with it the ease Ares rarely allowed himself to feel.
“Ares Langford,” Julian greeted with a wide grin, stepping into the grand hall. “You’ve turned your house into Buckingham Palace.”
Ares smirked faintly, clasping his hand in a firm shake. “Precaution.”
“Precaution?” Julian laughed as his eyes roamed over the guards, the cameras, the stiff backed nannies shuffling past with clipboards. “This isn’t precaution, brother. This is paranoia with a credit card.”
Ares chuckled low in his throat. “Better paranoia than regret.”
The two men moved into the lounge, where brandy gleamed like fire in cut crystal glasses. They sat across from each other, laughter mingling with the crackle of the fireplace. For a moment, it felt like the old days—two men, two friends, untouchable.
Julian leaned back, swirling his drink. “So, tell me. How are the kids holding up?”
“They’re good,” Ares replied. “They’re stronger than I imagined. But I won’t risk them again. Not for Chloe. Not for anyone.”
Julian studied him quietly, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Ares… you know those kids are not really yours. Not by blood.”
The room stilled. Even the fire seemed to hesitate, flames licking softer against the stone.
Ares’ gaze hardened, but he didn’t look away. “They’re mine.”
Julian’s brows lifted slightly. “I don’t doubt your love, brother. But what if one day, their real father shows up? What if he demands them back? What then?”
Ares set his glass down with deliberate care. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Legally, they’re mine. On paper, in court, in name…they belong to me. No man alive can take them from me.”
Julian frowned. “But the truth always has a way of clawing its way out. Blood doesn’t lie.”
“Blood isn’t everything.” Ares leaned forward, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even Julian pause. “I raised them. I protected them. I nearly died for them. And I’ll continue to do so. I don’t care whose blood runs in their veins. They are mine. My sons. My daughters. And God help the man who thinks otherwise.”
For a long moment, Julian held his stare. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at his lips. “I hear you. Loud and clear. You’ve always been stubborn as hell, Ares.”
Ares leaned back again, the tension fading slightly. A chuckle escaped him, deep and unrestrained, and Julian laughed with him. The sound rolled through the lounge, rich and carefree, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted.
Two men, two glasses, two lives intertwined by loyalty.
But outside the door, the weight was crashing down elsewhere.
Unbeknownst to Ares, his parents had been passing through the corridor when Julian’s question floated through the crack of the door. They had paused, just long enough to hear every word.
Marcus stood frozen, his face pale, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles blanched.
Beside him, Lady Bianca swayed on her feet, her chest heaving as if the air had turned to stone.
Her son’s words echoed in her skull—The kids aren’t mine by blood… legally they’re mine… no man alive can take them from me.
The edges of her vision blurred. A low moan escaped her lips, her body trembling violently.
“Bianca…” Marcus hissed, reaching for her arm.
But it was too late.
With a soft, heart wrenching gasp, Lady Bianca collapsed against the polished floor, her body limp, her hand slipping from her husband’s grasp.
“Bianca!” Marcus dropped to his knees, panic flashing across his face as the sound of glasses clinking and laughter still carried from the lounge.
The fortress had never felt so fragile.