Chapter 362 Right to Hold Her
ELIJAH
The accusation hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. I thought of the past weeks, the subtle tensions, the way my eldest son had withdrawn from me, the way even the twins had started looking at me with confusion in their eyes. Lucien's arrival had been a stone thrown into still water, and the ripples were still spreading.
"He's just a child," I said weakly, knowing even as I spoke that I was making excuses.
"He's a weapon," Adriana corrected. "And someone pointed him at our family. Someone loaded him and pulled the trigger. The question is whether you're going to finally do something about it, or if you're going to keep waiting for him to confess over tea and cookies."
Hazel picked up the gun from the side table, examining it with a practiced eye. "This is new," she observed. "Where did you get it?"
Adriana's chin lifted defiantly. "After what happened to Rita and Simone, after every single tragedy that's torn through this family. I decided I'd never be helpless again." She looked at me directly for the first time since we'd entered the room, and I saw the depth of her fear, masked as anger. "I have children to protect. I have a daughter who just learned to walk. I have twins who ask me every night why Daddy doesn't come home for dinner anymore. And I have a teenage son who thinks his father has replaced him with a stranger."
The words hit me like physical blows. I stood up, moving around the desk toward her, but she stepped back, maintaining the distance between us.
"Leo thinks I'm planning to give everything to Lucien," I said, the confession tasting like ash in my mouth. "He thinks I'm preparing a coronation."
Adriana and Hazel exchanged a glance.
"Earlier today," Hazel said carefully, "I told Adriana that if you dared to betray Leo that way—if you even thought about passing over your firstborn for your father's bastard—you wouldn't live long enough to place the crown on his head."
I stared at her, stunned. "You threatened to kill me?"
"I threatened to make you regret it," Hazel corrected, her tone mild but her eyes hard as diamonds. "Though in this family, the line does tend to blur."
I should have been angry. I should have felt betrayed. Instead, I felt only a hollow recognition that she was right—that I had been so focused on extracting information from Lucien, on solving the puzzle, that I had neglected the people who mattered most.
"I would never do that to Leo," I said, and my voice came out stronger than I felt. "Never. He's my son. He's my heir. Nothing changes that."
Adriana's expression softened marginally, the anger giving way to something more complicated—weariness, perhaps, or the residue of too many disappointments. "Words," she said again, but less sharply.
"Actions, then." I took a step closer, and this time she didn't retreat. "Tomorrow morning, I'll speak to Leo. I'll explain everything. I'll apologize."
"You'll need more than an apology." Adriana's voice was quiet now, the storm passing but leaving devastation in its wake. "He's fifteen, Elijah. He's not a child anymore, not really. He sees things. He understands when he's being pushed aside."
"I know."
"And the twins." She continued as if I hadn't spoken. "They're seven years old. Old enough to know something is wrong. Old enough to feel the tension in this house." She paused, swallowing hard. "And Lorain is already so observant. She asked me yesterday if you were still her daddy."
The image of my little girl—my fierce, intelligent Lorain—questioning her place in my heart broke something inside me. I reached for Adriana's hands, and this time she let me take them. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly.
"I'll fix it," I promised. "I'll fix all of it."
"You missed Lana's first words," Adriana whispered, and a single tear escaped, tracking down her cheek. "She said 'Mama' three days ago. Clear as a bell. And you weren't there. You were here, with him, playing your games of strategy."
The guilt was overwhelming, a tidal wave that threatened to drown me.
"I was at the bottom of the stairs," I admitted. "I heard her. I heard you laughing with her. I wanted to come up, but I thought—I thought I had to finish this first. I thought I had to solve the problem before I could be the father you all need."
"That's your problem, Elijah." Adriana pulled one hand free to wipe her face, but she didn't pull away entirely. "You always think you have to solve everything alone. You carry the weight of the world until it crushes you, and then you wonder why the people who love you feel abandoned."
Hazel stood up, the gun now secured in her robe pocket. She looked older than she had an hour ago, the lines around her eyes more pronounced. "I'm going to bed," she announced. "And I'm taking this with me. For safety," she added, with a pointed look at Adriana. "Not from intruders. From impulsive decisions made in the heat of the moment."
She left us alone, the door clicking shut with finality.
The silence stretched between Adriana and me, filled with everything unsaid and everything said too harshly. I still held one of her hands, and I used my free hand to gently touch her face, turning her toward me. She resisted at first, her neck stiff, but eventually she yielded, meeting my eyes.
"Are you still angry?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"Furious," she confirmed. But she didn't pull away.
"I'll apologize to them all tomorrow. Leo, the twins, Lorain. I'll make it right with Lana somehow, even if she won't remember."
"You'd better." Her voice wobbled. "Because I can't keep doing this, Elijah. I can't keep raising our children alone while you chase ghosts and play chess with lives. I need you present. I need you here."
I pulled her closer, my hand sliding from her waist to her back, drawing her against me. She came reluctantly, her body rigid, but she came. I could feel her heart hammering against my chest, the rapid rhythm of her pulse matching my own.
"I'll apologize every day if I have to," I murmured into her hair, smelling the familiar scent of her shampoo. "I'll spend the rest of my life making this up to you. Just don't give up on me. Don't give up on us."
She stood frozen for a long moment, and I feared she would push me away, would walk out that door and take my family with her. But then, slowly, her arms came up around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair, and she buried her face in my shoulder. I felt the wetness of her tears soaking through my shirt, felt the shudder of her suppressed sobs.
"I love you," she whispered, the words muffled against my chest. "That's why this hurts so much."
I held her tighter, anchoring us both against the storm we'd weathered and the storms still to come. "I love you too," I said. "And I'm going to prove it. Starting tomorrow. Starting now."
I held the only thing that mattered, the woman who had stood by me, who had armed herself against the world to protect what we'd built, who was still here despite everything.
I would spend every day for the rest of my life earning the right to hold her.