Chapter 80 Burning
Gavin’s POV
My phone lit up on the desk. From: Kane
She got out. She’s safe.
I stared at the message for a long moment, the words settling something in my chest that had been tight since the gala.
I set the phone face down and stood from my chair. The leather creaked softly in the silence.
The penthouse was dark except for the warm glow of Christmas lights Diana had insisted on stringing everywhere. They cast golden shadows across the walls, making everything look softer than it was.
Everyone was asleep. Diana in our bedroom down the hall. Jason out doing whatever Jason did at this hour. And Melissa…Melissa still hadn’t come home.
I knew where she was. Had been tracking her phone since she left hours ago. I watched that little dot move through the city, stop at Troy’s building, stay there for twenty-three minutes that felt like hours, then start moving again.
She was on her way back now.
But first, there was something I needed to do.
I walked to my desk and pulled open the bottom drawer, My fingers closed around the lighter.
It was Gold-plated and heavy. Engraved with my initials.I slipped it into my pocket and left my office.
The hallway stretched before me, silent and still. My footsteps made no sound on the plush carpet as I moved through shadows and soft light.
I stopped outside Melissa’s door.The handle turned easily.
I pushed it open and stepped inside, closing the door behind me with barely a whisper of sound.
Her room was dark.. But it smelled like her…that subtle scent of vanilla and something else I could never quite name but would recognize anywhere.
Her camera sat on the desk where she’d left it. Her laptop was closed. Her bed neatly made with a lot of stuffed toys occupying most of the space.
I searched her closet first. I opened it carefully, looking through it. Clothes organized by color. Shoes lined up. The emerald dress from the party hanging in the center. Nothing else.
I closed it and moved to the nightstand. A lamp. A book with a shirtless man on the cover. Her phone charger coiled neatly beside it.
Not there.
I crouched down and looked under the bed.There it was.
A box pushed toward the back, still wrapped in torn Christmas paper. Jason’s sloppy wrapping job was unmistakable…he’d never learned to properly fold corners.
I reached under and pulled it out, the box felt light in my hands.
I lifted the lid .Red lace spilled out. Expensive silk that caught the dim light. A very revealing lingerie . Jason’s gift.
My jaw tightened as I stared at it.
I stood, with the box in my hand, and walked out of her room as silently as I’d entered.
Through the living room where the Christmas tree still glowed with white lights. Past the kitchen where Diana’s coffee maker sat ready for morning. To the back door that led to our private terrace.
The cold hit me the moment I stepped outside. December in New York. The kind of cold that bit through clothing and settled in your bones.
I didn’t feel it.
I walked to the far corner where Diana had set up a decorative fire pit…something she’d used once before deciding it was too much effort. The stone was cold under my hands as I set the box down on the ledge.
I pulled out the lighter.
Flicked it once. The flame caught immediately, it was small and bright in the darkness.
I held it to the red lace.
The silk caught fast. Flames spread across the fabric…orange and gold and red dancing together, consuming Jason’s gift perfectly.
I watched it burn.
I watched the lace curl and blacken at the edges. I watched the expensive silk bubble and melt. I watched it all turn to ash and smoke that disappeared into the night sky.
The flames reflected in my eyes, warm and cleansing.
Jason was my son, and I loved him despite everything. Despite his recklessness, his defiance, his constant need to push against every rule I set.
But this crossed a line he shouldn’t have approached.
Melissa was off-limits. Because she was mine.
And everyone in this family needed to understand that.
I stood there until there was nothing left but grey ash scattered across the stone and the acrid smell of burned fabric hanging in the air.
Then I picked up the empty box…nothing left inside but tissue paper…and walked back into the warmth of the penthouse.
I went straight to the kitchen and threw the box into the trash, covering it with coffee grounds and other garbage so no one would see it.
Then I pulled out my phone and dialed Jason’s number.
It rang twice before he answered. “Dad? It’s like two in the morning. What’s wrong?”
“I need you to do something for me.”
A pause. I could almost hear him sitting up, suddenly more alert. “Okay… what kind of something?”
“I’m sending you details. “Can I count on you?”
Another pause. Then: “Yeah. Send me the details.”
“Thank you.”
I ended the call and pulled up the message I’d prepared hours ago. I hit send.The message was delivered with a soft whoosh.
Done.
I pocketed my phone and walked to the kitchen, to make coffee. Ground the beans. Measured the water. Went through the ritual with practiced precision while my mind worked through everything else that needed to happen.
The coffee finished brewing with a soft hiss and gurgle.
I poured it into a mug…black, no sugar…and walked to the living room.
I sat on the couch facing the Christmas tree, its white lights still twinkling in the darkness. The apartment was silent except for the distant hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of the building settling.
I took a sip of coffee and checked my phone one more time.
Melissa’s location showed she was close now. Three blocks away. Two minutes, maybe less.
I set my phone on the coffee table and leaned back against the cushions, cradling the warm mug between my hands.
Waiting.
The elevator chimed softly…a sound I’d been listening for without realizing it.
I didn’t move. I just sat there in the darkness, lit only by the glow of the Christmas tree, and waited.
The elevator doors opened and after a short while she appeared in the doorway.
Melissa stood there in her hooded coat, her dark hair slightly disheveled like she’d been running. Her eyes were wide with surprise when she saw me sitting there in the shadows.
“Gavin?” Her voice was uncertain, almost frightened. “You’re still up.”
I took another sip of my coffee, letting the silence stretch for a moment.
Then I set the mug down on the table and looked at her directly.
Searching for signs. Injuries. Bruises. Anything that would tell me what had happened in Troy’s apartment.
She looked whole. Shaken, but whole.
“Come here, Melissa,” I said quietly.