Chapter 5 5
|| Author POV ||
The golden chandeliers spilled soft light across the restaurant, scattering glimmers over marble floors and crystal glasses. The faint sound of a live violin swirled around the hall, merging with hushed voices and gentle laughter.
Martha entered first, draped in an elegant shawl. Her smile was warm as she greeted the staff. Behind her came Tristian Volcov, composed and cold as winter steel. Heads turned wherever he walked. The waiters bowed with respect.
“Good evening, Mr. Volcov.”
Tristian merely nodded, his face carved in calm restraint. Every movement of his was deliberate, precise, as though he owned not just the room but the silence inside it.
Nick followed, his expression darkening each time someone bowed to his elder brother. His fingers clenched and unclenched, jealousy simmering quietly beneath his well-tailored suit.
Alice trailed beside them, her eyes darting between faces, too gentle for the kind of world she’d married into. She walked quietly, her pale dress flowing behind her, hands clutching her small purse. She tried to stay close to her husband’s side, but Nick kept walking ahead as if she weren’t even there.
Tristian noticed. His eyes flicked once toward her, the way she hesitated, the small ache in her expression before he looked away, feigning indifference.
They reached their private table, tucked near the window overlooking the city lights. Martha smiled proudly.
“This place is lovely, Tristian. You always have such impeccable taste.”
Tristian gave a slight nod. “I’m glad you like it, Mother.”
His tone was even, distant, every syllable calm but emotionless.
As they took their seats, Alice sat beside Nick, trying to make herself small. Her fingers nervously brushed the edge of the napkin on her lap. When she risked a glance at her husband, Nick was scrolling through his phone, uninterested.
Her chest ached.
Unbidden, her mind replayed that night again — the words she wasn’t meant to hear.
‘I married that pathetic girl because of my mother and nothing else. I don’t love her.’
The waiter approached with menu. Tristian spoke before anyone else could. “Mother, would you like the usual?”
Martha beamed. “You remembered.”
Alice blinked, glancing at him in surprise. He didn’t look her way.
The tension was subtle, but sharp enough to make Alice lower her head. Martha, sensing the chill, tried to change the subject.
“Tristian, how’s your new office branch abroad? You must be tired from all the travel.”
“I manage,” he replied smoothly, cutting his steak with quiet precision. “Work keeps me occupied.”
Nick gave a dry chuckle. “Of course it does. You’ve always been the golden child.”
Tristian’s eyes flicked toward him, calm but cold. “And you’ve always been jealous of that.”
Martha frowned. “Boys, please. Not at the table.”
Nick smirked faintly and looked away, but his hand on the wine glass was trembling.
Alice’s fingers tightened around her napkin. Just as the waiter brought their dishes, Nick’s phone buzzed with a call. He frowned, turning it over, and his jaw loosened for a brief second.
Alice’s eyes stayed on him. Her heartbeat quickened. Tristian noticed the shift in her face, the quiet dread that flickered in that soft face.
Nick stood abruptly. “Excuse me, Mom. I’ll just take this call outside.”
“Business?” Martha asked.
Nick forced a smile. “Yeah, something urgent.” Martha barely looked up from her plate. “Of course, dear. Don’t take too long.”
Tristian’s fork paused midair. He said nothing, but his jaw flexed once. His gaze followed Nick as he walked away, phone pressed to his ear, tone already softening in a way that no business call required.
Alice lowered her head, staring at the silver reflection on her plate. Her vision blurred for a moment.
Her heart whispered the truth before her mind could deny it.
Tristian exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he turned his attention back to his plate. His voice came almost a murmur, enough for her to hear. “You shouldn’t wait on people who don’t look back.”
Alice looked up, startled. “E-excuse me?”
He finally met her gaze. His eyes were deep, unreadable. “Your food will get cold.” he said with a softer tone.
Martha smiled, oblivious to the undercurrent between them. “He’s right, dear. Eat before it gets cold. Don’t worry about Nick, business never ends for men.”
Alice nodded faintly and picked up her fork. She forced herself to eat, though each bite felt heavier than the last.
When Nick finally returned, his face carried guilt masked behind irritation. “That was an urgent client. I have to leave right away.”
“What? Now?” Martha’s eyes widened.
“I’ll make it up later.” he said quickly, already standing.
Alice’s lips parted but couldn’t form a word. Nick didn’t even look at her. He muttered something to Tristian, and left without another word.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Alice’s fingers trembled slightly around her glass. Tristian leaned back, eyes fixed on his untouched plate.
Martha sighed, forcing a light chuckle. “That boy, always running somewhere. Honestly, he needs to learn balance.”
Alice tried to smile. “He…he must be very busy.”
Tristian’s voice cut through her trembling one. “Too busy for dinner? For his wife?”
Martha gave him a warning glance. “Tristian!”
He looked away, jaw tightening. “Apologies, mother.”
Alice said nothing, staring down at her food again. The world seemed too quiet now.
To break the heaviness, Martha began telling stories, sweet fragments of the past. “Did I ever tell you about the time Tristian broke his father’s watch? He was just twelve, but he ran to the jeweler himself to fix it before his father came home.”
Alice listened quietly, offering soft nods now and then. Her voice never rose once.
Martha laughed fondly. “He’s been responsible since birth. Always protecting everyone, even when he didn’t need to.”
Tristian said nothing, but his gaze flickered toward Alice and softened for the first time. She smiled faintly at the story, a quiet glow returning to her face.
Martha smiled at both, not realizing the fragile thread forming between them.
As the meal drew to an end, Tristian’s patience was gone. The image of his brother’s betrayal wouldn’t leave his mind. His hands itched to confront him, to drag him back and make him face what he was destroying.
But then his eyes found Alice again. Her head bowed slightly as she nibbled at her dessert, too innocent.
Tristian swallowed hard and looked away. His rage wasn’t just for his brother anymore.