Chapter 31 Shattered Glass
Theodore’s POV
The Beaumont estate in Gramercy wasn’t built for comfort; it was built for silence. Every footstep on the white marble floor seemed to echo with the weight of four generations of "polite" society. I was lounging in the library with Gavin, the smell of old paper and expensive gin filling the air.
Gavin was sprawled across an antique leather armchair, tossing a silver coin into the air and catching it with mindless precision. We had grown up in rooms like this—Nate, Gavin, and I. We were the trinity of Alverstone, the sons of the city’s untouchables. We had shared everything from childhood tutors to the messy aftermath of our first heartbreaks.
The heavy oak doors swung open, but there was no grand entrance. Nate walked in like a man who had just seen a ghost. His tie was stuffed into his pocket, his sleeves were rolled up, and his expression was a frightening mix of shell-shock and cold, simmering rage. He didn't say a word. He just walked over to the sideboard, grabbed a crystal glass, and poured three fingers of Scotch, swallowing it in one go.
"You look like hell, Nate," Gavin remarked, finally catching his coin and sitting up. "Did you run into a Beaumont town car, or did the scholarship girl finally bite you?"
Nate didn't snap back. He didn't even look at us. He just stared at the empty glass in his hand. "I just came from her house."
I stiffened, my grip tightening on my own drink. "Mila's? Why were you in Brooklyn?"
"I saw them," Nate whispered, his voice jagged. "Her parents. Mark and Dawn." He turned toward us, and the look in his eyes was haunting. "They’re vultures, Theo. I’ve seen some desperate people in my mother’s boardroom, but this... it was different. They didn't even look at her. They looked at the car. They looked at me like I was a winning lottery ticket. They practically bowed to me while she stood there crying in the middle of the street."
"Ouch," Gavin muttered, his playfulness vanishing. "Sounds like a real Hallmark moment."
"It was pathetic," Nate continued, his knuckles white against the glass. "Her father was whining about bank interest while she was begging them to stop. I gave him my private number. I watched her realize that I just bought her parents' loyalty right in front of her. She looked at me with so much... it wasn't even hate. It was pure, unadulterated shame."
"So you gave them a leash," I said, my voice turning cold. "Typical Salvatore move. Why come here to tell us? Looking for a pat on the back for being the 'benefactor'?"
Nate finally looked at me, his eyes narrowing. "I came here because I wanted to know if you saw it too. When you took her out... did you see the desperation? Or were you too busy playing 'Savior' to notice she’s drowning in her own living room?"
I stood up, the tension in the room reaching a breaking point. "I saw a girl who deserved a night away from the mess. I didn't see a transaction, Nate. But then again, unlike you, I wasn't looking for one." I decided to go for the throat, to see if his newly discovered pity would turn back into the possessive fire I knew was lurking beneath. "In fact, she was so glad to be away from that life that she seemed... very willing. Very easy to talk to. She was just like all the rest of them once we got behind closed doors." The lie tasted like poison in my mouth.
“Dude, no…” Gavin groaned in horror.
“What did you say?" Nate’s voice was a low, animalistic growl.
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a gritty, cruel whisper that felt like sandpaper against the silence of the library. "By the time we got back to the estate after dinner, the 'innocent' act was gone. I fucked her. She’s–”
I didn't finish the sentence. Nate’s fist collided with my jaw with the force of a freight train before the glass in his hand even shattered against the floor.
The force sent me reeling back into the mahogany table, my own drink spilling across the floor like blood.
"Whoa!" Gavin shouted, jumping up. "Hey! No hitting the face! Theodore’s the pretty one, Nate! Hit him in the ribs or something! Do you know how much his dental insurance costs?"
Nate was standing over me, his chest heaving, his hands trembling. The Scotch he’d just downed seemed to be fueling a fire that was finally burning through his ice.
"Don't you ever speak about her like that," Nate choked out, his voice shaking with a rage that felt more like agony. "Ever. You don't know what she's carrying."
I wiped the blood from my lip and looked up at him, a dark smile playing on my face. "So, you do care. You're not just 'protecting an investment' anymore, are you? You’re losing your mind because you know I'm the only one who can actually give her what she needs without making her feel like a slave."
Nate flinched. "I hate her."
"No, you don't," I said, standing up slowly and righting my chair. "We just talked, Nate. I didn't touch her. I just wanted to see if there was any humanity left in you, or if you were just your mother’s shadow." I stepped closer, poking a finger into his chest. "I’ll step aside. I’ll give you the floor because I can see you’re already halfway to hell over her. But let’s be very clear. If you mess this up—if you break her just because you’re too proud to admit you’re drowning—I will be there. And I won't give her back."
I looked at my two oldest friends. Gavin was looking between us, his usual mask of humor slipping to reveal genuine concern for the first time in years. Nate just looked broken.
"You don't deserve her," I added, my voice cold and final. "You don't deserve someone as wonderful as Mila Stone. But since you've already staked your claim and bought her family, the least you can do is try not to destroy her before Monday morning."
Nate didn't say a word. He turned on his heel and walked out, his stride erratic and heavy.
Gavin stood in the silence for a moment, then slowly began to pick up the shards of glass.
"Well," Gavin muttered, glancing at my bleeding lip. "That went well. Real 'three musketeers' moment. Anyone want to go for tacos? Or should I just call the Beaumont family lawyer and prep for the assault charges?"
I didn't answer. I just touched my jaw and thought about Mila. I had just handed her over to the wolf, and for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure if Nate Salvatore was the hunter or the one caught in the trap.