Chapter 4
My father died four years after Evan’s accident.
For those four years, Evan remained at the table.
Sometimes standing.
Sometimes seated.
Sometimes leaving early when the prosthetic rubbed his leg raw.
Dad never complained.
But silence leaves room for interpretation.
Carlo had supplied his.
“He said Dad kept me there because removing me would look cruel.”
Evan said it quietly.
“He said you inherited the obligation.”
I felt sick.
Because Carlo understood exactly which fear would work.
Not that Evan lacked value.
That his value came from pity.
There are insults a man can reject easily.
Pity is harder.
It poisons every kindness retroactively.
I called Rafe.
“Bring Carlo.”
Evan stopped me.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I want to be there.”
“Fine.”
“And don’t hit him.”
I almost smiled.
“Why?”
“Because then he’ll make this about your temper.”
Smart.
My brother had been listening to family politics longer than people assumed.
Carlo entered twenty minutes later.
Saw Evan without the prosthetic attached.
Then saw me.
He understood immediately.
“Lucian.”
“Did my father want Evan removed from council?”
Carlo took too long.
“No.”
Evan closed his eyes.
I leaned forward.
“Say the rest.”
Carlo sighed.
“He considered it.”
“Did he?”
“He worried how rival families would interpret—”
“Did he ask you to remove Evan?”
“No.”
“Did he ask Evan to leave?”
“No.”
“Did he ask me to hide him?”
Carlo’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
There it was.
Carlo had turned his own opinion into my father’s memory.
Evan looked at him.
“You knew Mara was hiding my leg.”
Carlo frowned.
“I knew there were domestic tensions.”
“She took away the thing I use to stand.”
“That is between a man and his future wife.”
Evan stared.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“That was between her and the person she wanted beneath her.”
Carlo’s face changed.
My brother had finally named it.
Not teasing.
May you like
Not marital friction.
Control.
