Chapter 2.6

The grand banquet hall was bathed in golden light, its elegance accentuated by the towering floral arrangements adorning the center of each table. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the carefully curated guests, their laughter and conversation creating a refined hum that filled the space.

Joey sat at a corner table, idly tearing a piece of bread from the small roll on his plate. His father had suggested—rather, subtly pressured—him to attend, citing that Noah and his circle were "good influences." Joey didn't argue. He didn't want to meet Noah, but he knew that Ethan might be there. And despite himself, he found that thought oddly reassuring.

His fingers tightened slightly around his glass as he took a sip of water. Across the room, Noah was easily the center of attention, his charm weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. He greeted guests with that effortless smile, always knowing the right thing to say. The perfect heir. The golden boy.

But Joey's eyes weren't on Noah for long.

The main doors swung open, and Ethan entered.

For a moment, the conversations around them seemed to quiet—just slightly, just enough for those who were watching to take notice. Ethan walked in with a measured grace, not bothering to acknowledge the eyes that followed him. He was dressed sharply, his expression neutral but unreadable. Unlike Noah, he didn't bask in attention, but neither did he shrink from it.

From across the room, Joey saw a flicker of movement near the head table—Ethan's biological parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Laurent sat with impeccable posture, their demeanor as poised as ever. They were a picture-perfect couple, exuding the same refinement they had instilled in Noah. Ethan, however, had always been different. He wasn't cold, but he lacked the carefully molded social polish they had hoped for in their firstborn.

Yet tonight, a rare look of satisfaction crossed Mrs. Laurent's face as she exchanged a glance with her husband. Ethan had arrived—gracefully, effortlessly, without making a scene. That alone was enough to please them.

Still, Joey didn't miss the way Mrs. Laurent's gaze flickered toward Noah, lingering just a little longer, a silent affirmation of who their favored son was.

Joey turned away. It wasn't his business.

But just as he was about to focus on his plate again, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Didn't think you'd show up," Noah said, sliding into the seat beside him. His presence was as intrusive as ever, but there was something in his tone that lacked the usual arrogance.

Joey sighed, setting his fork down. "Neither did I."

Noah chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass. "I suppose your father had something to do with it?"

Joey didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Noah smirked, taking that as confirmation. "I figured." He leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping over the room. "You know, they all expect you to behave tonight."

"I haven't caused trouble in a while," Joey muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Noah raised a brow, his smirk widening. "No, you haven't. But that just makes them more nervous. It's like they're waiting for you to snap."

Joey exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tapping idly against his glass. "Well, I hate to disappoint them."

Before Noah could respond, a new presence joined them.

"Are you two going to sit here whispering all night?" Ethan's voice was calm, but there was an undeniable weight to it.

Joey looked up. Ethan was standing beside their table, his gaze flickering between him and Noah. He wasn't smiling, but there was no hostility in his expression either. If anything, he looked… tired.

Noah, of course, grinned. "Jealous, Ethan?"

Ethan gave him an unimpressed look before turning his attention to Joey. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Joey shrugged. "I didn't expect to be here."

Ethan studied him for a moment, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then, without another word, he pulled out a chair and sat across from them.

Noah looked amused. "Well, isn't this nice? The three of us, sitting together like old friends."

Ethan ignored him. Instead, he glanced briefly toward the head table, where his biological parents sat. He didn't acknowledge them, and they didn't try to call him over. Still, there was a quiet understanding in the air—tonight, at least, they were content with his presence.

Joey watched as Ethan picked up the menu, flipping through it absentmindedly. There was something oddly grounding about his presence, something steady in a room full of polished facades.

For the first time that evening, Joey didn't feel completely out of place.

But he knew this night wasn't over yet.

And something told him it wouldn't end quietly.