Page 111 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes

I nod once. Because if space is what it takes to have any chance at getting her back, I’ll give it to her.

Even if it kills me.

Chapter32

Gen

By the time we reach Silas’s loft, the adrenaline has worn off, leaving only the deep exhaustion underneath. My body moves on autopilot—out of the car, up the stairs, through the door—but my mind feels stuck somewhere else, playing back the afternoon in an endless, looping reel. Heather’s smirk. The look on Sebastian's face when he heard the heartbeat echoing through the sterile exam room.

Max closes the door behind us with a soft click while Silas brushes past me, heading straight for the kitchen. He yanks open a cabinet with more force than necessary, rattling the dishes. I watch him for a beat too long, my heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest.

“Sit,” Max says, his voice a little too gentle. They’re treating me like something fragile. But I sit and it feels so good.

Silas returns a moment later, a bottle of water in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other. He hesitates, then puts the whiskey down untouched and presses the water into my hands instead.

I murmur a thank you, even though the knot in my throat makes drinking anything feel impossible.

They don’t sit immediately. Silas paces a few short steps, then swings around, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Max drops onto the arm of the chair across from me, his forearms braced on his thighs, head tilted in a way that makes it clear he’s analyzing every inch of me.

It’s Max who speaks first, because of course it is. When emotions are high, he becomes ruthlessly pragmatic. “Talk to us, G,” he says. “What do you want?”

The words are simple. The answer isn't.

I clutch the water bottle tighter, the plastic crinkling under my fingers. I know what they’re asking. It’s not just about today.

For a second, I consider lying. Telling them I don’t know. That I need time. But that would be a coward’s answer, and I’m tired of being afraid of my own truth.

So, I draw a breath, lift my chin, and say, “I want you.”

Silas stops pacing. Max goes very still.

“I want this,” I continue, pushing through the thickness in my throat. “I want you both. Nothing about today changes that.”

Silas’s mouth tightens, his body vibrating with tension. “Even after everything?”

I nod. “Even after everything.” I swallow hard. “But?—”

Max’s gaze sharpens, always attuned to the warning signs. “But?”

I force myself to meet their eyes, first one, then the other. “I can’t pretend Sebastian doesn’t matter. Not after today. Not after....” I look down at my hands. “Part of me still wants to give him a chance. To see if we can fix...whatever’s left.”

The silence that follows is heavy enough to crush us.

I rush to fill it, the words tumbling out too fast. “But I’m not walking away from you. If he can’t accept you, if you can’t accept him, then it’s not happening. I’m not losing you to chase something that might not even exist anymore.”

Silas drops into the chair across from me with a groan, resting his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Max leans back slightly, studying me with those calculating eyes that miss nothing.

“You mean that,” Max says, not a question but a realization.

“Yes.”

I feel Silas looking at me, but I can’t make myself look back yet. I’m too afraid of what I’ll see. Disappointment. Resentment. All the things I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to drown in.

Max’s voice is low when he speaks again. “You’re not choosing him over us.”

I lift my head sharply. “No. Of course not.”

Silas scrubs his hands over his face, exhaling hard. Then he stands, crosses the room, and sinks down onto the couch beside me.