"So this is Lior," Lucien said with a soft smile, his gaze lingering on the photo glowing from Riven's phone. Lior mid-laugh, hair tousled, eyes alight.
It was the first thing Lucien asked about the moment they stepped into his study.
The room smelled faintly of old parchment and cedar smoke, the air warm but heavy. Riven didn't flinch. His grandfather had always known. He had been the only one who kept him alive during those years abroad—alone, frightened, carrying a child his body was never meant to bear. They'd written in secret, traded brief calls. No one else in the family knew about Lior. And Lucien had never demanded explanations. Just updates. Just proof that Riven was still breathing.
"He's beautiful," Lucien murmured. His thumb brushed the phone screen as though he could touch the boy through glass. "Though it's a shame he didn't inherit your eyes."
Riven hesitated. He'd thought the same. Lior's eyes were different—sharp, crystalline, but not his. No trace of Virellian blood. Only a quiet reminder of the man Riven couldn't remember. The man whose scent had vanished the moment the trap had sprung.
He managed a small smile. "He's got his own kind of fire."
Lucien nodded, sinking deeper into his chair as though the years pressed on his shoulders all at once. "Are you still having pheromone issues?"
Riven lowered his gaze. "Since I got back… no. Not really." His fingers tightened around the phone. "I can smell my own scent again. Sweet, steady. But no rut. No heat. Not even a spike. It's like something's suppressing it—without me doing anything."
Lucien's eyes sharpened. "That's not normal."
"I know," Riven whispered. "But it's made things easier. For Lior. For me."
The silence stretched, filled only by the faint creak of Lucien's chair. Then came his sigh, soft but frayed at the edges. "This world will tear you apart if they find out what you've been hiding."
Riven didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Lucien reached for his hand, grip firm but trembling, the skin paper-thin over bone. "I won't be here forever. My body's already failing. And when I'm gone…" His voice broke, barely a rasp. "You'll be on your own."
Something thick and unspoken lodged in Riven's throat.
"You've built something incredible," Lucien continued. His tone was soft, but his gaze cut sharp. "But Nexus? You know that puts you directly against Veltrix Dynamic. Against your brother. Against the company that crushed Paragon."
He leaned forward, eyes heavy with warning. "What happens when they come for you?"
Riven held his gaze, steady. "Then I'll be ready."
Lucien opened his mouth, but Riven cut him off gently. "I'm going to be okay. I won't let my brothers or cousins tear me down again. And besides…" His lips curved faintly. "I'm not doing anything to hurt Veltrix."
Lucien's eyes darkened, a shadow of old grudges flickering across his face. "You know how Rowen thinks. His grudge against Nexus runs deep. I don't want you caught in the crossfire."
"Grandpa," Riven said, voice firm but not unkind, "I'm not weak. You raised me better than that. And I'm an S-Class Alpha, remember?"
The smile he offered was soft, almost playful, but there was pride in it too. What he didn't say: My dominant pheromone's unstable. Half the time, I smell like an Omega. Half the time, I don't smell like anything at all. I'm a contradiction walking on a knife's edge. But he swallowed that truth. Lucien didn't need more reasons to worry.
"Come back here," Lucien said quietly, reaching for him. "Let me take care of things."
Riven's smile faltered. "Can they accept Lior? Really? An S-Class Alpha who got pregnant? That's not something my brothers or cousins will ever let go. I need to protect him. And Nexus is the safest way—far from their eyes, far from their judgment."
Lucien hesitated. His hand trembled on the chair's armrest, his voice catching. "You're the heir to Virellian Corp. I'll give it all to you. That way, you and Lior—"
"Grandpa," Riven interrupted, sharper this time. "If you do that, you'll hand my brothers and cousins the perfect excuse to come after me. It'll paint a target on our backs."
He dropped his gaze for a breath, then looked back up, steady. "I can raise Lior just fine without Virellian Corp."
Lucien exhaled slowly, the weight of his years pressing into his shoulders. He knew he couldn't change Riven's mind. Once Riven decided something, he carried it through—no matter the cost.
"Why did I raise you to be so damn independent?" he muttered, half amused, half regretful.
Riven chuckled. "Because if you hadn't, I wouldn't have survived those five years. You gave me strength when no one else did. And honestly… if it weren't for you, I don't know what would've happened to me and Lior."
He paused, voice softening. "I'm sorry. I don't think I can come back. This is the life I chose. I hope you understand."
Lucien didn't answer right away. He just looked at him—long, quiet, the silence heavier than words. And Riven knew he'd hurt him. But he also knew he had to stand his ground. It wasn't just about him anymore. It was about Lior.
"Stay for dinner," Lucien said finally.
Riven nodded. "Of course."
He called Thayer, told him he wouldn't be coming in. Asked him to let Eli know—Eli would have to pick up Lior and watch over him. He'd be home late.
He couldn't turn down his grandfather's invitation. Lucien rarely asked, and refusing would have cut deep. Especially since Riven almost never came back to the estate. Especially since he wasn't exactly welcome here anymore—not with his brothers and cousins circling like hawks.
Dinner was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that thrummed with unspoken judgment, every clink of cutlery too sharp, too loud.
And of course, the topic surfaced. His pregnancy. The shame. The whispered relief—at least, according to them—that he hadn't gone through with it.
No one knew the truth. That he hadn't terminated the pregnancy. That Lior was alive. That Riven had endured and survived when they would've let him shatter.
Then came the next blow—Nexus.
Auren finally spoke, voice slicing through the hush like glass. "If you still have any respect left for this family, you'll leave Nexus. Go back to the country you hid in five years ago."
Riven looked at his father, expression unreadable, though the pulse beat hard at his temple. He had expected this. Expected at least a pretense of reconciliation—Come home. We'll fix this. But no. Because to them, he had never been family. Only a liability.
They cast him out when they thought he'd bring shame. Left him with nothing. And now that he'd built something of his own, they still refused to accept it—because it came from the enemy.
"What will people say when they find out you've sided with them—"
"There's nothing wrong with working at Nexus," Riven cut in, voice calm but unyielding. "You disowned me. So just tell them I'm no longer part of the Virellian name."
He glanced at Lucien, who hadn't spoken a word. His grandfather's fingers curled faintly against the table, though his gaze never left Riven's face. That silence hurt more than anger ever could.
But the words had to be said. His father needed to understand—he wasn't the same Riven they could command. He wasn't going to play obedient anymore.
"Thanks for dinner," Riven said, rising. He crossed to his grandfather and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The old man's skin was cool beneath his lips, his jaw trembling with words he didn't speak.
"I'll get going."
Lucien looked up at him, eyes heavy with years. "Visit again when you have time."
Riven nodded, once. Then he turned and walked out—quiet, composed, and done pretending.
The dining room stayed hushed behind him, the weight of unspoken judgment clinging to his back. He felt their eyes following him as he crossed the hall, every step echoing against marble floors, every breath carrying the bitter taste of exile.
At the doors, he paused just long enough to draw in the cool night air spilling through the cracks. Then he stepped outside, leaving the estate behind him—its walls, its silence, its suffocating legacy—without looking back.