Silas set his fork down slowly and wiped his mouth with a napkin. His expression remained cool, almost bored, but Sylvain could see the tension in his jaw.

"Mother, this is not the time or place for this discussion."

Amelia leaned back in her chair, elegantly crossing her arms. "Then when is the time, Silas? Are you two hiding something from me?"

"Mom, we are not hiding anything. He is my errand boy. Nothing more, nothing less."

Amelia drank the last drop of wine in her glass and looked up at her son. "When are you getting married, Silas? At this age, I should already be expecting twins from you."

Sylvain swallowed hard. He bent his head low and continued eating, trying to disappear into his plate. Silas stared at him and smirked. "Mom, you should not be expecting any grandchildren from me."

Amelia frowned, searching her son’s face. "What do you mean, Silas? Are you not getting married?"

Silas tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table and shook his head. "For now... no."

"So you are saying I don’t deserve a grandchild, Silas?" Amelia’s voice sharpened. "That’s fine by me. I will organize one lady by myself if you don’t want, at least you will do me the favor of impregnating her."

She turned to Sylvain, her tone softening slightly but still firm. "It must be hard working for my son when he doesn’t deserve such loyalty. I know he can be wasteful, but don’t you want a real job? Something that matches your education?"

Sylvain’s throat went dry. He couldn’t answer, not with Silas here.

Amelia turned back to Silas. "I know you’re hiding someone. I need a grandchild, Silas. If you don’t provide one, I will make a drastic move."

"Soon, Mama," Silas replied, taking a sip of his wine.

Amelia raised her eyebrows. "When you finally decide to marry the poor girl you’re hiding? Or when this... errand boy with a Wharton MBA continues wasting away in your kitchen?"

Sylvain wanted the floor to swallow him whole. His face burned with humiliation. He could feel Amelia’s sharp gaze on him, assessing and judging every inch of him.

Silas’s eyes flicked to Sylvain for a split second before returning to his mother. "He is here because I want him here. That is all you need to know."

Amelia let out a short, humorless laugh. "You want him here? As what? Your personal chef? Your housekeeper? A man with that education, and you have him cooking ramen?" She turned to Sylvain, her tone softening just a fraction. "Tell me, Sylvain. Do you enjoy this arrangement?"

Sylvain’s throat closed up. He couldn’t look at Silas. He couldn’t look at Amelia either. "I... I’m grateful to be here, ma’am," he whispered.

"Grateful," Amelia repeated, tasting the word like something sour. She shook her head. "You’re grateful to be reduced to this?"

Silas’s hand tightened around his wine glass. "Enough."

The single word carried absolute authority. Even Amelia paused.

Silas stood up smoothly, buttoning his suit jacket. "Mother, I appreciate your concern, but my personal life is exactly that — personal. If you came here to eat, then eat. If you came here to interrogate me, then I suggest we schedule a proper meeting."

Amelia studied her son for a long moment, eyes narrowing. Then she sighed, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

"Very well," she said, standing gracefully. "But don’t think this conversation is over, Silas. You are my son. I will not watch you throw away your future on... whatever this is."

Her gaze slid to Sylvain once more, softer this time, almost pitying. "And you, young man. Whatever Silas is using to weigh you down, remember you have options. If you ever need anything — a real job, references, anything — you have my number now."

She placed her business card on the table in front of Sylvain.

Sylvain could only nod, too overwhelmed to speak.

Amelia picked up her bag. "I’ll see myself out. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

She walked toward the door, heels clicking sharply. Just before she left, she turned back one last time. "Silas," she said sternly, "don’t make me regret raising you to be better than this."

The penthouse fell into heavy silence.

Sylvain remained seated, staring at his plate, hands clenched tightly in his lap. His face was still burning. The humiliation sat like a stone in his chest.

Silas didn’t move for several seconds. Then he walked over to the table, picked up his wine glass, and drained it in one go.

"You told her you were my friend," he said, voice dangerously calm.

Sylvain flinched. "I... I didn’t know what else to say. She asked and I—"

"Weren’t you excited to exchange numbers with her, huh?" Silas set the glass down hard enough to make it clink. "You thought this was a way out, right? A way out for your freedom, Sylvain."

He walked around the table until he stood directly behind Sylvain. One hand came down on his shoulder, fingers pressing into the fresh bite mark from the night before.

"You embarrassed me in front of my mother," Silas murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed Sylvain’s ear. "Do you know what that means?" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Sylvain shivered, fear and heat twisting together in his stomach. "I’m sorry."

Silas’s grip tightened. "You will be."

He pulled Sylvain up from the chair by the shoulder, turning him around so they were face to face. Silas’s eyes were dark, stormy with irritation and something much darker.

"On your knees," he ordered.

Sylvain sank down without protest, knees hitting the floor. He looked up at Silas, waiting, his heart was racing.

Silas threaded his fingers through Sylvain’s hair, tilting his head back. "You’re going to make it up to me tonight. And tomorrow. And every day until I decide you’ve learned your place again."

Sylvain’s breath hitched. "Yes, sir."

Silas’s smile was slow and dangerous. "Good boy."

_______

Amelia walked out of the elevator, her driver already standing by the car. "Take me to the girls’ hideout."

"Yes, ma’am." The driver opened the door, and Amelia slid into the back seat.

The car zoomed off. Amelia continued tapping on her phone before dialing a number. "Phine, I need some strong drink tonight... Yes, anything strong. I’m literally breaking here, I need you girls’ advice."

The person on the other end sounded concerned. "Uhm, Amelia, are you okay? Your voice doesn’t sound right. Is anything wrong with Silas?"

"Yes, Josephine. I think my son is gay." Amelia ran her hand through her hair.

"Gay like G-A-Y? How can Silas be gay? Amelia, you have to calm down. You’re overreacting. What did he do?"

"I’m not overreacting, Phine. I’m thirty percent sure that Silas is gay. Why would my son be gay? Please tell them to get the drinks ready. I’m not far from there. I need to calm myself down now."

"I understand you, Amelia, but you need to calm down. This is not something to be spoken about over the phone."

The car skidded to a stop in front of a luxurious discreet building. Amelia opened the door and walked inside. "I’m already here, Josephine."

She knocked on a private door. In seconds, it opened. Josephine and two other women — Vivian and Margaret were waiting inside.

"Oh my poor Amelia, you are already vibrating," Josephine said, pulling her into a hug. "In... out. Breathe."

Amelia walked inside and slid onto the couch. A waiter entered with a bottle of white wine. Amelia grabbed the Chardonnay in one swoop. "Get the bottle here. I need a refill."

The waiter was stunned, his mouth open wide.

Josephine and the two women quickly surrounded Amelia. Vivian rubbed her back. "You have to calm down, Amelia. This is not the solution. No matter whether it’s true or not, Silas is your son. Your only child at that."

Amelia stared at Josephine. "Why me, Phine? Why? I did like you all said. I was cold to the person I met in the house, and guess what? I met an MBA graduate. From Wharton, at that."

Vivian placed a hand on her neck. "Uhm... that’s not bad. So you met your son’s friend and you assume he is gay? Come on, Amelia."

"He was cooking for Silas. A job that should be done by a lady. The both of them were shy to stare at each other while I was there. And you tell me nothing is going on there."

Margaret shifted on her chair. "So you are saying an MBA graduate is cooking for your son. Did you ask the guy why?"

Amelia rolled her eyes. "The guy was too scared to raise his head. He kept fumbling with his clothes."

"Ooh... so why is that an issue if your son is gay?" Vivian asked, still confused about Amelia’s anger.

Amelia’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Because his father was. His father was gay."

The three women’s eyes widened in shock, stunned by the bombshell Amelia had just dropped.