Chapter Sixty: A Father’s Silence, A Brother’s Loyalty, A Daughter’s Reckoning
The air inside Blackwood Hall carried a weight—not absence, but presence, thick with everything waiting to unfold.
Chloe barely had a moment to adjust before movement caught her attention.
Lorence.
Damian.
Her brothers.
Standing near the grand staircase, unreadable at first—then shifting the second they saw her.
Then—the change. Immediate. Undeniable.
Damian moved first.
A sharp exhale, a stride forward, a grip that didn't hesitate, didn't falter, didn't hold back.
"You absolute brat."
His voice was rough, tight, edged in something raw—but his hold was firm when he pulled her in, hugging her like he wasn't letting go.
Lorence followed—more composed, more measured, but just as relieved.
"We missed you."
Chloe inhaled, pressing her lips together, gripping their arms briefly.
"I missed you too."
They spoiled her.
Loved her.
Gave her everything.
Even supported her when she decided to leave.
Even agreed to their father's condition—no contact, no interference, no helping her.
Not because they were angry.
Not because they wanted to push her away.
But because they wanted her to learn.
Wanted her to come back home the soonest.
And now—she was standing here.
Then—movement.
At the grand staircase.
Her father.
Descending.
Not waiting.
Not sitting back.
Walking into the moment.
And when he saw her?
It hurt.
Made his heart bleed.
But he didn't show it.
Didn't let it crack.
Didn't let his pride falter.
Not yet.
Instead—he chose denial.
Chloe stiffened the second his gaze landed on her.
He saw her.
Registered every change, every absence, every inch of time carved into her being.
Yet—he let none of it surface.
Didn't falter.
Didn't soften.
Just tilted his head slightly, assessing her like she was nothing more than another guest.
Another visitor.
Another distant presence in a house she once called her own.
Then—his voice. Sharp. Clipped. Detached.
"And who might you be?"
The words sliced.
Straight. Unapologetic.
As if she hadn't been his daughter.
As if she hadn't grown up in these halls.
As if he hadn't spent months aching for her return.
Chloe barely swallowed past the tightness in her throat.
Her mother inhaled sharply beside her.
Her brothers stiffened.
But Chloe?
She held firm.
Because if he wanted to pretend?
She'd let him.
For now.