CHAPTER 72 The Chains That Bind

　　Julian's POV

　　The grand estate loomed before me, its towering pillars and pristine gardens standing as a testament to my family's legacy. Everything was exactly as I had left it; the neatly trimmed hedges, the intricate marble pathways, the suffocating perfection.

　　I had spent years convincing myself that this was home, but as I stepped past the wrought-iron gates, I felt nothing. No warmth. No sense of belonging. Only the tightening of invisible chains around my throat.

　　My father was waiting in the study. Of course, he was.

　　The moment I entered, his sharp gaze locked onto me, measuring, calculating. My mother sat beside him, her expression unreadable, but I knew she was waiting for the same thing he was.

　　Obedience.

　　"You took your time returning," my father said, setting down his glass of whiskey. "I trust you've had enough of your little vacation."

　　I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. Vacation. That's what he called it.