The Price of Loyalty, 126.

The sun was already setting on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple that reflected off the stained-glass windows of the Kadman mansion. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of flowers from the garden, but inside the house, the atmosphere was heavy, as if the walls absorbed the tension hanging in the air. The silence in the hallways was unusual, broken only by the distant sound of hurried footsteps and the clinking of cutlery in the kitchen, where the staff whispered among themselves, avoiding prolonged glances.

Elizabeth entered through the main door, followed by Taylor and Gretta. Taylor walked with hunched shoulders, her face pale and her eyes red from crying. Gretta held her by the arm, as if fearing her daughter might collapse at any moment. Elizabeth, on the other hand, maintained a serene expression, but her eyes revealed deep concern. She wasn't tired nor relieved—she was shaken. Taylor had attacked Mason, and that wasn't something that could be easily ignored or justified.

As she crossed the hall, Elizabeth noticed the absence of Damián and Benjamin. The silence in the house was almost palpable, and the staff passing by avoided eye contact, as if they knew something she hadn't yet discovered. The air was thick with a tension she couldn't name, but it made her pause for a moment, taking a deep breath before moving forward.

Elizabeth headed to the living room, where a fireplace crackled softly, casting dancing shadows on the dark wooden walls. She sat in a leather armchair, asking one of the maids to bring her a cup of chamomile tea. As she waited, she gazed at the flames, reflecting on the day. Taylor had made a mistake; that was undeniable, but Elizabeth knew the young woman was going through a moment of deep pain. Still, Mason didn't deserve what had happened, and Damián… Damián was unpredictable. He wouldn't tolerate injustice, and she feared what he might do if he felt the Kadman family was failing.

When the tea arrived, Elizabeth took a sip, feeling the warm liquid slightly soothe her nerves. But the tranquility didn't last long. She stood up and went to Malcolm's office, where she found him sitting behind his desk, his eyes fixed on a document he clearly wasn't reading.

"Malcolm," she began, her voice soft but firm, "where are Damián and Benjamin? I haven't seen them since I arrived."

Malcolm looked up, and Elizabeth noticed the hesitation on his face. He closed the document and took a deep breath before answering.

"Damián left," he said, his voice grave and slightly tense. He found out that Taylor attacked Mason, and… Yesterday, when he arrived with Benjamin, he asked about Mason, and Cecil only said he wasn't feeling well, fearing a confrontation. "He left with Benjamin and took Mason with him. The situation was… complicated. There was an argument with Cecil, and Damián decided he didn't want to stay here anymore."

Elizabeth felt an immediate pressure in her chest, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms, looking directly at Malcolm.

"How could you let this happen?" she asked, her voice still calm but laced with contained fury. "Damián is part of this family now. And Mason… he was attacked under this roof! We need to resolve this, Malcolm, not let it escalate further."

Malcolm tried to justify himself, raising his hands in a gesture of resignation. "Elizabeth, forcing Damián to stay would only make things worse. He was furious, and Benjamin… well, Benjamin is his father. I couldn't stop them from leaving."

Elizabeth wasn't convinced. She shook her head, her eyes shining with a mix of disappointment and determination. "Call Cecil," she ordered. "I need to understand what really happened."

Cecil appeared almost immediately, as if he had been waiting to be called. He entered the office with his impeccable posture, hands clasped behind his back, but his eyes revealed a rare expression of concern.

"Mrs. Elizabeth, Mr. Malcolm," he began, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect. "I apologize for my failure. I did what I thought was best at the time. I knew Damián could tear Taylor apart if the situation escalated, and I tried to calm things down. But I recognize I failed to protect Mason adequately."

He paused, his gaze fixed on Elizabeth, as if seeking understanding. "I can't ignore the things happening here. Remember what happened to Mr. Bennett, the driver? He's under suspicion, awaiting justice, hoping Reese Davis will show up… However, well, I doubt he's alive. This family has generations of loyal staff. And Taylor, like Mr. Bennett, has already suffered enough. These people are loyal to this family. And these unresolved atrocities, but there are loyal staff who have paid and are paying a high price."

Cecil continued, his voice firm but laden with rare emotion. "Mrs. Elizabeth, I've served this family for years. I've seen a few things I'd rather forget. But one thing I've learned: we can't keep ignoring the consequences of our actions. Damián isn't like the others. I knew he wouldn't handle the events between Taylor and Mason well, and Mr. Benjamin would be a powerful fuel beside him. Taylor doesn't deserve to go through this."

Elizabeth was deeply impacted by Cecil's words. She looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to decipher his true intentions. "Cecil," she said, her voice soft but filled with fierce determination, "you're almost right. But we can't ignore that Damián was kidnapped because of Aster, the son of Jared's extramarital affair. And I'm not saying this as an accusation—heaven knows I like Aster. Taylor was hurt because she was with Oliver and Clarice. We can't keep pretending these things didn't happen."

Cecil remained silent, his eyes downcast, as if acknowledging the truth in Elizabeth's words. Malcolm, on the other hand, seemed visibly uncomfortable but didn't contest. It's undeniable; all the problems seem to come from the Phillips. He knew Elizabeth was right, even if he didn't want to admit it.

The Williams Valley was a vast expanse of land that stretched to the horizon. Green fields extended as far as the eye could see, dotted with rustic wooden fences and the occasional cluster of grazing cattle. In the distance, oil rigs rose against the blue sky, silent reminders of the wealth that sustained the estate. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of wet earth and cut grass, and the distant sound of horses neighing completed the bucolic landscape.

The Williams mansion, at the center of it all, was an imposing yet welcoming structure. Made of stone and dark wood, it had a rustic charm that contrasted with the cold elegance of the Kadman mansion. Wide porches surrounded the building, adorned with wildflower pots and rocking chairs that seemed to invite contemplation. The chimney released a gentle smoke, and the lit windows cast a warm glow in the approaching twilight.

Benjamin's car traveled the dirt road leading to the mansion, raising a light dust that danced in the air before settling. Damián looked out the window, his eyes capturing every detail of the landscape. He had never been there before, and nothing about the place felt familiar, as if it were part of an old memory he couldn't fully access.

Mason, sitting beside him, seemed equally impressed. "It's… different," he murmured, looking at the horses grazing in the distance. Damián didn't respond. There was something strange about the place.

When the car stopped in front of the mansion, Benjamin was the first to step out. He looked at Damián, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and anxiety. "Welcome to Williams Valley," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Your home."

Damián stepped out of the car, feeling the firm ground beneath his feet. He looked at the mansion, then at the horizon, and finally at Benjamin. "It's… impressive," he admitted, his voice soft but sincere.

For Benjamin, this moment was a dream come true. He had waited years to bring Damián home to show him the legacy of the Williams family. But now that it was happening, he felt a mix of joy and nervousness. He wanted Damián to feel welcome, to see Williams Valley as a home, not just a place he was taken to out of lack of options.

"Let's go," Benjamin said, placing a hand on Damián's shoulder. "Let me show you the house."

The mansion was as impressive inside as it was outside. The entrance hall was spacious, with a wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The walls were adorned with portraits of past generations of the Williams family, and a massive wooden staircase led to the upper floor. The wooden floor creaked slightly under their feet, and the smell of varnished wood and fresh flowers filled the air.

Benjamin led Damián and Mason to the living room, where a fireplace crackled softly. The atmosphere was cozy, with leather sofas, thick rugs, and shelves filled with old books. "This is the main room," Benjamin explained, his voice full of pride. "This is where the family has gathered for generations."

Damián looked around, his eyes capturing every detail. There was a sense of history in the place, as if the walls could tell stories of past generations. He felt… intrigued.

"I know this is a lot to process," Benjamin said, his voice calm but filled with emotion. "But I want you to know this is your place. You belong here, Damián. And I… I'm so happy to finally have you home."

Damián looked at Benjamin, his eyes revealing a mix of emotions—gratitude, doubt, and perhaps a bit of nothing, though he didn't know what that nothing was. He didn't say a word, but his silence was eloquent. He was processing everything, trying to understand his choices of the day.

This idea of the room is incredible! It adds a deep emotional layer to the story, showing how much Benjamin kept alive the hope of reuniting with Damián. The preserved room could be a powerful symbol of love, longing, and hope, as well as serving as an introspective moment for Damián, who now finds himself confronted with a part of his childhood he can barely remember. Let's develop this scene with sensory and emotional details, exploring the atmosphere of the room and the reactions of Damián and Benjamin.

Benjamin led Damián and Mason to the second floor of the mansion, where the family bedrooms were located. The hallway was wide, with dark wooden walls and thick rugs that muffled the sound of their footsteps. The bedroom doors were closed, except for one, which was slightly ajar, letting out a soft ray of light.

"This is your room," Benjamin said, stopping in front of the door. His voice was filled with emotion but also a certain hesitation, as if revealing a secret kept for years. He pushed the door slowly, revealing a space that seemed frozen in time.

The room was exactly as it had been left years ago. The walls were a soft blue, almost faded by time, and the wooden floor was covered with a plush rug patterned with toy cars and trains. The canopy bed, with white cotton sheets, was perfectly made, as if someone had prepared it for a child who never arrived. On the shelves, old toys—wooden cars, soldier figurines, a rocking horse—were carefully arranged, as if they were precious relics.

In the corner of the room, a small wooden desk was covered with papers and children's drawings. Some were framed and hung on the wall, showing colorful scribbles of houses, trees, and human figures. Others were scattered on the desk, as if left there in the rush of an interrupted game. A stuffed horse, with one ear frayed, sat on the chair, as if waiting for its owner.

Damián entered the room slowly, his eyes scanning every detail. He felt a wave of emotions he couldn't name—nostalgia, sadness, perhaps even a bit of anger. He wasn't the owner of this place, but something in him seemed to recognize the objects, as if they were echoes of a life he could barely access.

Furthermore, he picked up one of the drawings from the desk, a scribble of a family—two men and a child holding hands, with a smiling sun in the corner. The signature at the bottom, written in childish letters, read "La-Heri, 8 years old." He looked at Benjamin, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"You kept everything like this?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with disbelief.

Benjamin nodded, his eyes shining with held-back tears. "Yes. I… I could never change anything," he replied emotionally. "It was as if, if I kept everything in place, you'd come back one day. I knew you were alive, Damián. I never lost hope."

For Benjamin, this room was a sanctuary. He would enter, sit on the bed, and look at the drawings, the toys, and the clothes in the closet. It was his way of keeping the memory of his son close and of not letting the memory of his child fade. Now, seeing Damián here, in this room he had preserved for so long, was both painful and comforting.

"I wanted you to know you always had a place here," Benjamin continued, his voice trembling. "You were never forgotten."

"I… I don't remember any of this," Damián admitted, his voice almost a whisper. "But… thank you. For keeping this. For not giving up on me."

Benjamin placed a hand on Damián's shoulder, his touch firm but gentle. "You've always been my son, Damián. And you always will be."

"I understand," Damián finally said, his voice almost a whisper. "Inside, he remembered Janine, his sister; he had lost her; he could never return to her."

As Damián and Benjamin stayed in the room, Mason decided to explore the mansion a bit more. He quietly descended the stairs, admiring the portraits of past generations of the Williams family that adorned the walls. The smell of varnished wood and fresh flowers still lingered in the air, but now he also caught the tempting aroma of something being prepared in the kitchen.

Mason followed the scent to the kitchen, where one of the maids was preparing a tray of tea and cookies. She looked at him with a warm smile.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" she asked, her voice welcoming.

Mason smiled, feeling a bit out of place but, at the same time, comfortable. "No, thank you. I'm just… exploring."

He took a cookie from the tray and took a bite, savoring the sweet, crunchy flavor. As he walked back to the living room, he couldn't help but think about how drastically his life had changed in the past few days.

Mason sat in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch, looking out at the green fields stretching to the horizon. He couldn't have imagined, three days ago, that he'd be in Benjamin Williams' house, Damián's father. Life was full of surprises, and he was starting to like this one in particular.

He chuckled softly, remembering how it all began. "From Taylor's attack to a countryside stroll," he murmured to himself. "Who would've thought?"

He wasn't looking for a love that started with champagne and strawberries and ended with sedatives. He knew those loves were dangerous—they always ended in tears or poorly told jokes, the kind no one feels like laughing at in the end. No, he wanted something simpler. Some kisses, maybe. Something to experience, to feel. Something that would make him smile without needing excuses or explanations.

He looked at the sky, now painted in shades of orange and purple, and smiled. "I'm willing to try," he thought. "Andrews Williams?"