Chapter 31 – Lines Drawn
The scent of food drifted in before the tray appeared–warm bread, fresh fruit, a faint trace of seasoned meat. Then there was a knock. Edward’s voice was steady. “Come in.”
Elara stepped inside carefully, her footsteps light against the polished floor. She set the tray down on the table with practiced ease, then straightened as though ready to retreat without a word.
Edward sat upright, his gaze fixed on her with quiet focus, watching every move she made.
“Good morning, sir,” she said softly, placing the tray down on the small table by the window.
Edward gave a faint nod. “Thank you.”
Elara turned to leave, her fingers trailing down the fabric of her dress, smoothing invisible creases, as though grounding herself, steadying the rush of emotions threatening to spill from within. But just as her hand reached for the door, another voice cut the silence.
“Elara.”
She froze, turning slowly. Damien sat in the corner chair, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. A subtle smile played across his lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Serve me breakfast too,” Damien said, his tone casual but carrying weight, the kind of request that was less a request and more a test.
Elara blinked, startled, and glanced toward Edward for direction.
Edward’s voice came firm, controlled, but edged with something colder. “No. Elara, tell Calista or any of the other maids to serve Damien and Kian their food.”
The words landed heavy in the room.
Damien tilted his head, the faint smile still clinging to his face. “Why?”
Edward’s gaze locked on his Beta–Damien, his expression unflinching. “Because she’s my personal staff. She serves me. No one else.”
The silence stretched. Elara stood caught in the middle, her chest tight, unsure of whether to bow again or vanish through the door.
Damien’s smile widened just slightly, but his eyes betrayed the anger sparking beneath. “Why shouldn’t she serve me, Edward?” His voice was smooth, almost mocking, but the undercurrent of challenge was sharp as a blade.
Edward leaned forward in his bed, his face set in iron. “Because she belongs to my service. And no one else’s.”
The weight of the declaration pressed down on the room.
Elara’s lips parted slightly, her breath caught in her throat. She had not expected that answer–had not expected to be spoken of in that way. A possession? A shield? She didn’t know. All she knew was that the air had grown heavy, and she was at the center of it.
Damien sat back, eyes narrowing slightly. He wanted to laugh, but the fury in his chest strangled the sound. Instead, he forced a calm expression, the edges of his smile trembling with something darker. “Interesting,” he murmured.
Before the silence could thicken further, Kian stepped forward. His voice was even, warm, like water poured onto a flame. “It really doesn’t matter who brings the food,” he said smoothly, his gaze moving from Edward to Damien and then to Elara. “Elara, tell another maid to bring ours to the poolside.”
The tension eased slightly, though not enough to erase the invisible crackle between Edward and Damien. Elara nodded quickly, her eyes flicking toward Edward before she bowed her head and turned to leave. Her steps were light, but inside her chest, her heart pounded like a drum.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Damien stayed seated for a moment, his eyes fixed on Edward. Then slowly, deliberately, he stood. His voice was low but carried enough force to cut through the room. “I’ll be by the poolside.”
He walked toward the door, every step measured, his back straight. He didn’t glance at Edward or Kian as he left.
The door closed firmly behind him.
The silence that followed was heavy, but different from before.
Kian exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “That could have gone worse.”
Edward’s jaw tightened, his hands resting firmly on the arms of his chair. “It could have gone better.” His eyes, hard as stone, lingered on the door Damien had exited through. “He tested me. And I will not be tested in my own house.”
Kian studied Edward for a long moment, then nodded. He knew Edward was doing this because of his feeling for Elara. But he also knew Damien’s pride was wounded, and pride left to fester could poison everything.
Edward turned his face toward the window. The light caught the sharp angle of his cheek, making his features seem carved in iron. His voice was quiet but firm. “Elara is mine to command.”
Damien’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, sharp and deliberate, carrying him toward the poolside. His chest burned, not from exertion, but from the sting of humiliation that refused to loosen its grip.
“How dare Edward speak to me like that?” The words raged in his mind, sharp and unrelenting, each echo fanning the fire inside him. His chest tightened, fury clawing through every vein, boiling hotter with every step he took. The affront seared deeper than any wound, the humiliation of being dismissed, "over a maid–searing his pride.... in front of her."
In front of the very girl who should never have mattered. His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palms, and yet the ache of anger wasn’t enough to drown out the bitter thought that Edward had chosen her over him.
The memory replayed, Edward’s voice firm, final–denying him, and dismissing him. It gnawed at him like a wound.
“Who does he think he is?” Damien’s jaw clenched. “So it’s true then. Edward does have feelings for Elara.”
The realization cut deep, sharper than he expected. What made it worse was the calm certainty in Edward’s tone, as if he had the right to draw that line.
Damien’s lips pressed into a cold smile. “You’ll pay for this, Edward,” he muttered under his breath. “One way or another, you’ll pay for humiliating me in front of her.”
With that oath burning in his heart, he strode out to the sunlight by the poolside–his anger hidden beneath the practiced mask of a smile, but inside, the fire only grew hotter.