Page 21 of Goldrage (The Chrysophilist Trilogy #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JULIAN

T he grand ballroom swallows sound like a starved beast. But tonight, I barely notice the Consortium’s usual depravity. My focus narrows to a single point of gravity in the room.

Aurelia.

My mother guides her to a group of men. Aurelia gives a polite smile but the air around her is untouchable. Her skin glows pale as moonlight, and something twists behind my ribs at how thin she’s become. The dress hangs where it should cling, shadows pooling in the hollows beneath her collarbones.

She needs to eat more; I won’t have her starving my child.

Her hand drifts to her stomach, fingers pressing protectively across the silk. It’s unconscious and instinctive. The way pregnant women touch themselves when they think no one’s watching, cradling life that hasn’t yet begun to show .

The whiskey in my glass trembles. I set it down before I shatter the crystal.

Mine . My child grows inside her while she plays these games, while she feeds me lies about not knowing whose it is.

She knows it’s mine and doesn’t want to hurt Adrian with the truth.

A man from the Smith family approaches her and my mother. My muscles tense when he leans too close. He says something that makes her step back. Her hand returns to her stomach and the man’s eyes lower. The speculation in his gaze makes me want to tear his throat out with my bare hands.

It’s clear he wants his “turn” with Aurelia.

Mother leaves Aurelia’s side, letting her manage the man alone. Mother walks to me.

“Magnificent party, isn’t it?”

I don’t respond because I’m stuck on Aurelia again.

“The Carter’s send their regrets,” she continues, watching me watch Aurelia. “Something about a family emergency. Convenient.”

I grunt an acknowledgment, tracking Aurelia as she moves away from Gregory. The crowd parts for her, not out of respect but from the draw of scandal. Everyone knows she carries Harrow blood in her womb. Everyone wonders which brother planted it there. I’ve heard them all whispering.

“You’re staring,” Mother says.

“Making sure she doesn’t cause problems.”

Lies.

She laughs. “Of course you are. Honestly, Julian, do you need a lobotomy to stop thinking about that bitch? I’m the only one who has ever cared about you.” She sips her champagne, and something in her tone drags me backward through time.

I’m eight years old, crying in Mother’s bedroom. The bruise on my cheek throbs where Father backhanded me for interrupting his meeting. Mother sits beside me on her silk duvet, dabbing my tears with a handkerchief that smells like roses.

“My brave boy,” she coos, pulling me against her chest. “You were only trying to protect me, weren’t you? When you heard Daddy shouting?”

I nod into her shoulder, breathing in her perfume. She’s soft and warm and everything Father isn’t.

“That’s because you love me more than Adrian does.” Her fingers stroke through my hair. “Adrian just stood there when Daddy was angry. But not you. You tried to stop him.”

“Adrian was scared,” I mumble, defending my brother even though part of me glows at being called braver.

“Was he?” She pulls back to study my face, her blue eyes sad. “Or does he love Daddy more than me? Sometimes I wonder if Adrian even cares when I cry.”

My chest hurts at the thought. “He cares, Mama.”

“Does he?” She touches my bruised cheek so gently. “Then why does he spend so much time with Daddy? Learning the business, going on trips, leaving us alone?” Her voice breaks. “You’re the only one who really loves me, Julian.”

“That’s not true ? —”

“Shh.” She presses a finger to my lips. “It’s okay.

I know it hurts to admit, but Adrian is becoming just like Daddy.

Soon he won’t want us at all. It’ll just be you and me against the world.

” A tear slides down her perfect face. “Promise me something, my darling boy. Promise you’ll never leave me like Adrian is doing. Promise you’ll always protect me.”

The weight of her sadness crushes my small chest. I throw my arms around her neck. “I promise, Mama. I’ll never be like Adrian. I’ll never leave you.”

She holds me tight, and I feel her heartbeat against mine, the way she trembles like she needs me.

“My perfect boy,” she whispers. “My Julian. You’ll always choose me, won’t you? Even over your brother?”

“Always,” I promise.

The memory fades as Aurelia accepts a glass of water from a server. She doesn’t drink, just holds it like a prop.

I glance at Mother, who’s also watching Aurelia with interest.

Adrian is becoming just like Daddy. Soon he won’t want us at all. It’ll just be you and me against the world.

But that’s not the truth. Adrian did care for Mother when we were kids, but she always tried to tell me differently. I hadn’t ever thought about it but… it was like she wanted to turn me against him. Like she was using my love for her as a blade to cut what binds me to Adrian.

Why?

Sergio Castellano joins the circle of men around Aurelia, and my blood pressure spikes. His reputation precedes him, a trafficker who samples his own merchandise. The way he evaluates her makes my vision edge with red.

“Careful,” Mother murmurs. “Your feelings are showing.”

“I don’t have feelings for the bitch. Not now. ”

“No?” She turns to study my face with the same intensity I’m directing at Aurelia. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

I look down. Fuck, she’s right. My fingers tremble with the effort of not crossing the room, not tearing Aurelia away from those men.

“She’s carrying the Harrow heir,” I say. “That makes her valuable.”

“Indeed. Though value is such a relative concept. What’s precious to one person might be worthless to another.”

Aurelia shifts, and the movement pulls her dress tight across her body. Still too thin, but there’s a fullness to her breasts that wasn’t there before. The slight softening of her waistline that her hand keeps protecting. Nature is already reshaping her for what’s to come.

My child. Growing inside a woman who should be dead.

“Do you know what I learned at parties like this?” Mother asks.

I don’t have the patience for whatever point she’s trying to make, but she continues anyway.

“I learned that pain is currency. That every bruise, every humiliation, every violation, are all investments in a future where the ledger balances.”

I tear my gaze from Aurelia long enough to really look at my mother and the shadows beneath her makeup. The curve of her shoulders that I used to mistake for submission.

“Is that what this is?” I gesture to the party, to Aurelia, to the whole fucking show. “Balancing ledgers?”

“Everything is about balance.” She touches my cheek with cool fingers. “Your father taught me that. Every action demands reaction. Every cruelty requires compensation. The trick is patience. Waiting for the perfect moment when the scales tip in your favor.”

Across the room, Aurelia sways slightly.

She’s carrying my child while standing in a room full of people who would destroy her if I gave the word.

One gesture from me, and they’d tear her apart.

But she stands there with her chin raised, defiant as ever, protecting what’s mine even as she denies me.

“That child will bring you balance, Julian. Well, if it’s yours. Let’s hope it is.”

It’s mine.

And maybe Mother is right. This child will help me balance the ledger for everything Aurelia put me through.

Sometimes, I wish she’d never been part of my life. But this child, my child, could be worth all the torment.

“Do you have plans to pass her around, darling? You had promised a lot of men they could have their turn.”

My jaw clenches. “That was before I knew she was pregnant. No one can touch her until the baby is born, got it? I don’t trust these fuckers.”

“I suppose.” Mother fingers her emerald necklace. “After the child is born, she’ll get passed around as promised, then I still have plans to kill her. Don’t stand in the way of that, dear.” She gives me a pointed look and then moves away.

I watch as she floats back to Aurelia and then steers her away from the group of men.

But I remain rooted, watching Aurelia like a man obsessed. Because that’s what I am, still too obsessed with the woman who should be dead, who carries my future in her womb.

The party fades to white noise. There’s only Aurelia, only the life growing inside her, only the promise of a future that holds my legacy.

Maybe I haven’t quite decided what to do with the mother of my child yet.