Irvin's POV
The Jenkin estate rose before me like some Gothic nightmare, all shadow and stone as I climbed the marble steps and shoved through those massive doors.
This place was impressive—but it had never felt like home.
Family dinners weren't about connection here; they were strategic theater, something I despised but tolerated for my mother and Barnaby's sake. The only two people keeping me tethered to this twisted show. Well... them, and Caroline.
I entered the dining room, my footsteps sharp against the gleaming floor. My family had already taken their positions, the strain thick in the air before anyone spoke.
"What's this garbage I'm hearing about you and Caroline?"
My father, Will Jenkin, barked without even glancing my way. His voice cut like ice, brutal and precise.
I didn't flinch, didn't react. I settled into my chair with smooth confidence, keeping my expression blank. "Evening, Father," I said evenly, sidestepping his obvious trap.
"Did you put ice on that cut, sweetheart?" My mother, Louise, leaned closer, worry creasing her delicate features.
Her eyes found the small gash on my temple from my latest underground bout.
I brushed off her concern. "I'm fine, Mother."
"Can't believe some amateur tagged you like that," Will scoffed, disgust dripping from every word.
"I won, Father," I replied, letting amusement color my tone. "That's all that counts, right?"
Will's mouth twisted into something ugly. "You think this is funny? I told you to skip the fights this week. Investors arrive tomorrow, and you're walking around looking like common trash. Do you understand what's at stake? We're talking millions!"
I leaned back, completely relaxed. "Funny thing is, I made serious cash last night in that ring. Your priorities aren't mine, Father."
Will's expression went deadly. Without warning, he seized Barnaby's wrist and slammed it against the table.
My body went rigid.
Barnaby, my older brother, grimaced, his lips quivering as he fought back any sound. My gut clenched watching this familiar horror play out.
Will Jenkin wasn't a father—he was a dictator, a savage who fed on dominance and control. When I pushed too far, it was always Barnaby or my mother who paid the price.
"Think this is some kind of game, Irvin?" Will snarled, grinding down harder on Barnaby's hand.
Barnaby's eyes squeezed shut, his breathing ragged, but no sound escaped. It never did.
Barnaby used to be my hero—the big brother who could do anything. Now he was just a ghost of that person, hollowed out and surviving on whatever pills numbed the pain.
My jaw locked tight, fury burning in my chest. My mother's desperate eyes found mine, silently begging me to act.
I kept my voice steady. "I'll handle the investors," I said carefully. "The meeting won't be affected. You'll get your contract."
Will finally released Barnaby's hand, settling back with a satisfied grin. "Now that's what I want to hear."
Barnaby yanked his hand back, holding it protectively beneath the table. His face was ghostly pale, but he stayed silent.
I wanted to put my fist through something, but I held back. That's exactly what Will craved—to push me over the edge, to own me completely.
Instead, I pulled out my phone and pretended to browse, ignoring the untouched food in front of me.
"Clean up whatever disaster you've created with Caroline," Will added coldly. "Her father and I are already setting the wedding date. I won't let your games destroy our partnership."
I smiled without meaning it. "Of course, Father," I said, not bothering to look up. I couldn't exactly tell Will the real story.
My thoughts wandered to that Hughes girl—the fierce waitress who'd shut me down at the bus stop. I hated admitting it, but her rejection had actually gotten to me. Anyone else in Meridian would have jumped at what I offered, but she'd dismissed me without hesitation.
Something about her had crawled under my skin.
"Are you listening to me, Irvin?" Will snapped, jerking me back to the present.
I pocketed my phone and stood abruptly. "Crystal clear, Father. Enjoy your meal, Jenkins."
Without another word, I walked out of the dining room.
The frigid night air slapped me as I stepped outside. I slumped against my car, dragging a hand through my hair. I needed space to think.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
I pulled it out and checked the screen, my heart sinking. A text message from Hughes.
'I'll do it.'
I stared at those three words, my pulse hammering. For several seconds, I couldn't move, couldn't even breathe.
I thrived on challenges, but getting mixed up with a Hughes was one challenge I had zero interest in facing.
I wished she'd kept saying no.