Elias sat motionless, his eyes locked on the window, but his mind was elsewhere. The conversation between Elara, Sylvia, and Dominic still echoed in his head.
They had been keeping secrets from him. Again.
A quiet sigh left his lips, but there was no amusement in it—only exhaustion. Not just from the day, but from years of carrying a weight that no child should have borne.
He was eight when his father was murdered.
He was just five when he watched his mother die giving birth to the twins.
He was eight when the last piece of childhood was ripped away from him.
From that moment, he had no choice but to be their father, their protector. And now? Now, the very girls he had devoted his life to were keeping him in the dark.
His fingers clenched into fists. Not anymore.
"Come here."
His voice was low but firm. Not an invitation—a demand.
The twins exchanged wary glances. Sylvia's brows furrowed in concern, but Elara already knew. He knew.
Still, they walked into his room. Elias sat upright, his expression carved from stone.
He didn't offer them a seat.
Instead, he let the silence stretch, watching them squirm under his gaze before finally speaking.
"Since when did we start keeping secrets from each other?"
Elara's throat tightened.
"It's not that we wanted to hide it…" she started weakly. "We just—"
"Didn't want to burden me?" His voice was calm, but the fire in his eyes told a different story.
Silence.
He scoffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Do you hear yourselves?" His tone sharpened. "Burden me? You two have been my responsibility since the moment you took your first breath. Since the moment I lost—"
He stopped himself. The words felt too raw, too close to the gaping wound that never really healed.
Elara's heart clenched. He meant their parents.
A sharp breath left Sylvia's lips. "Elias… we didn't mean to—"
"Save it." He cut her off. Then, after a moment, he exhaled slowly. "Tell me what happened."
Elara hesitated. Her fingers curled around the hem of her dress, and for a second, she thought about lying. But she knew better.
So, she told him.
Everything.
How Dominic intercepted them, how he mocked them, how he refused to let them pass like he was some god deciding their fate. How she had tried—tried so hard—to push back, to make him stop.
But then, she had said and done something she shouldn't have. And Dominic? He had latched onto it like a predator with fresh prey.
Elias' expression didn't change as she spoke, but his silence was lethal.
Then, she whispered Dominic's words that sent chills down her spine.
"I'll be the one to decide whether this is over or not."
The room felt colder.
Elias' jaw tightened, his fingers pressing against his knee.
Sylvia inhaled sharply. "What the hell does that mean?"
Elias let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. "It means he's not done with us."
Elara's stomach twisted.
Sylvia crossed her arms. "Then what do we do now?"
Elias finally looked up. And for the first time, the girls saw it.
Not just their brother. Not just their protector.
They saw the man who had been forced to grow up too fast. The man who had nothing left to lose.
And with a slow, deliberate smirk, Elias said:
"Now? We make sure he regrets ever thinking we were weak."
The game had changed.
And this time, they weren't playing to lose.
Elara and Sylvia exchanged a look. For the first time in years, they saw him.
Not the Elias who had been tired, beaten down, rejected, and barely hanging on.
Not the Elias who had been forced to shoulder responsibilities no child should ever bear.
But the Elias they used to know. The one who was relentless, unshaken, and always ten steps ahead. The brother who never backed down from a fight—no matter how impossible the odds seemed.
Sylvia, always the blunt one, crossed her arms. "Okay, I get that we're not weak," she said. "But how exactly do we beat him at his own game?"
Her voice was steady, but there was an edge of doubt beneath it. She wasn't stupid. They all knew the truth. Dominic Lancaster had money. He had power. Influence. Connections.
He could bend people to his will. Destroy livelihoods with a phone call. And if he really wanted to, he could make them disappear without breaking a sweat.
So how?
How could three siblings, struggling to even keep their home together, possibly win against someone like him?
Elias didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up his phone.
Sylvia and Elara frowned, watching as he turned away, stepping toward the farthest corner of the room.
Then, he spoke.
Softly. Too softly.
The twins strained their ears, but they couldn't make out a single word.
Elara glanced at Sylvia, unease creeping into her chest. Who was he calling?
Minutes passed, but it felt like hours.
When Elias finally ended the call, he stood still for a moment, the glow of the phone casting shadows over his face. Then, as if sensing their stares, he turned to them.
His expression was unreadable.
"Who did you just call?" Elara asked, her voice careful.
Elias studied her for a second before answering. "Do you trust me?"
That made her pause.
Sylvia, however, wasn't as patient. "Elias, what the hell are you doing?"
"Just trust me," he repeated, his voice quieter this time. "And don't ask too many questions."
Silence.
Elara bit her lip, something uneasy settling in her gut. But the way Elias looked at her—steady, unwavering, certain—made her swallow her doubts.
Sylvia, however, wasn't convinced. "That's not an answer, Elias."
But Elias only smiled.
A small, knowing, dangerous smile.
Then, he stepped forward and kissed them both on the forehead.
"Goodnight."
Elara and Sylvia stood frozen as their brother turned and walked away.
The room felt colder in his absence.
Sylvia folded her arms tightly. "Elara."
Elara exhaled shakily. "Yeah?"
Sylvia's voice was quieter now. "I don't think this is just about Dominic anymore."
Elara didn't answer.
Because deep down, she knew.
Something had shifted.
Something big.
And for the first time, they weren't sure if they should be afraid of Dominic—or of Elias.