Chapter 2 - The Wrath of the Eldest Brother
The drive back to the Fairhaven estate was suffocatingly quiet,
the rhythmic slashing of the windshield wipers providing the only sound,
as the sprawling,
gated mansion finally came into view.
The wrought-iron gates,
decorated with our family crest,
swung open silently as her car approached,
and the towering stone walls of the house loomed in the darkness,
looking more like a prison than a home.
Eleanor parked the car near the side entrance,
ignoring the fleet of luxury vehicles taking up the main driveway,
and turned off the engine,
plunging us into complete silence.
"Before we go inside,"
she started,
her hands resting gently on the steering wheel,
"I need you to promise me something,
Kaelen."
I looked at her,
my jaw clenching,
expecting her to demand an apology or a vow to never fight again.
"Promise me you'll let me clean those cuts before you go to your room,"
she said,
her eyes full of a strange,
unwavering compassion.
I swallowed the lump in my throat,
nodding slowly,
and followed her out of the car and into the dimly lit hallway of the manor.
The house was supposed to be empty at this hour,
but the moment we stepped into the grand foyer,
the crystal chandelier blazed to life,
blinding me temporarily.
Standing at the top of the marble staircase,
looking like a wrathful god,
was my oldest brother,
Asher Cavanaugh.
At twenty-two,
Asher was the official heir to our father's empire,
cold,
calculating,
and completely devoid of mercy,
and right now,
his piercing gray eyes were locked onto Eleanor.
"Where have you been?"
Asher demanded,
his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings,
carrying a threat that would make any normal employee run for the door.
Eleanor paused at the bottom of the stairs,
sliding her wet coat off her shoulders,
and hung it neatly on the rack,
refusing to let him rush her.
"I was running an errand,"
she answered,
her tone polite,
yet utterly devoid of submission.
Asher descended the stairs slowly,
each step deliberate,
his expensive leather shoes making no sound on the marble floor.
"An errand,"
he repeated,
his gaze shifting to me,
taking in the blood on my face,
the dirt on my clothes,
and the defiant glare I shot back at him.
"It seems your errand involved dragging our family name through the mud,
again,"
Asher sneered,
stopping just a few feet away from us,
his towering frame meant to intimidate.
"He is your brother,"
Eleanor said calmly,
stepping slightly in front of me,
acting as a human shield against Asher's fury.
"He is a liability,"
Asher snapped,
his anger finally breaking through his icy facade,
"And you are just the help,
Eleanor,
so do not overstep your boundaries."
The silence that followed was deafening,
the air growing so thick I could barely breathe,
but Eleanor did not back down.
She looked up at Asher,
her expression completely serene,
and tilted her head slightly.
"My job is to maintain this household,"
she said,
her voice steady,
ringing with quiet authority,
"And this household is currently bleeding on my clean floors,
so if you will excuse me,
Mr. Cavanaugh,
I have work to do."
Asher froze,
his jaw dropping in absolute shock,
because no one,
not even our father,
dismissed him so easily.
Before he could recover,
Eleanor turned on her heel,
placed a gentle hand on my uninjured shoulder,
and guided me toward the kitchen,
leaving the most feared young man in the city standing alone in the foyer,
May you like
staring after her with a mixture of rage,
and something dangerously close to respect.
