Chapter 141: Chapter 141
"Celeste is in the hospital," Landon said smugly the moment Ronan walked through the door.
The words sliced through the stillness of the house like glass against skin.
Ronan froze. His hand still on the brass knob, froze, and his shoulders turned rigid. For a split second, his pulse surged, thinking it was Carlos or Dominic himself waiting for him inside. But when his gaze landed on the slouched figure in the armchair, he exhaled sharply.
His son. It was just his son who seemed to have known his lock combination.
Landon sat lazily, with one of his ankle draped over his knee. He was swirling a glass of red wine like he had all the time in the world. His blond hair was a little too long, as they now fell into his eyes, and there was that half-smile on his lips. The smile was too smug, and too sharp.
Ronan let the door click shut behind him and stepped in, loosening his shoulders.
"I know," he said finally, his voice flat, and measured. He tugged off his jacket, and tossed it carelessly onto the back of the couch. "How did you know? Dominic told just I and her friend for security purposes."
Landon tipped his glass lazily, watching the wine catch the light. "I know everything, Dad." His tone carried no pride, nor humility. Just arrogance. "And I came to tell you that there’ll be a war. What side will you be on?"
Ronan’s brows furrowed, his jaw tightening. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "Are you sick?"
Landon smirked, unfazed.
"There’ll be no war," Ronan continued, his voice clipped, as though stating it firmly enough would make it truth. "And I’ll stand beside Dominic to take Carlos down if ever there’d be one."
The scoff that slipped from Landon’s lips was sharp, and ugly. He swirled his wine again, tilting the glass to watch the crimson cling to the sides.
"’I’ll stand beside Dominic to take Carlos down,’" he mimicked, dragging the words out with mockery. His eyes snapped up, catching his father’s. "Tell me, Dad... when will you stop standing beside Dominic and start taking control like an elder brother should?"
Silenece dropped in the living room, and it stretched.
Ronan’s chest rose and fell slowly as he studied his son. He wanted to lash out, and to tell him he had no idea the weight Dominic carried. He wanted to let him know he had no idea what sacrifice meant. But the words caught in his throat.
Instead, he dropped onto the couch opposite Landon, and the springs creaked under his weight. He leaned back, staring up at the ornate ceiling. The marble design looked cloudy tonight, and suffocating. He tugged at his tie until it came loose, tossing it aside, and still said nothing.
Landon smirked, sensing his father’s retreat. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dripping with disdain.
"You even had to send Mum away for this." His lip curled. "She’s more of a mother to me than you’ve ever been a father. So make sure nothing happens to her. Ever."
He downed the rest of his wine in one sharp gulp, the liquid burning down his throat. Without hesitation, he poured again into the empty glass, gulped it down in one go, and poured another. Then, did he speak again.
"Dominic could perish for all I care," Landon added, his tone colder now. "I blame Celeste for picking him over me, and for dragging herself into this mess. Endangering her life. For what? For him?"
Ronan’s head snapped down from the ceiling, his blue eyes locking onto his son’s face. He scoffed once, bitter.
"If you had been better," he said bluntly, "she never would’ve looked at Dominic."
Landon froze, the glass of wine halfway to his lips. The silence between them crackled like fire. No one had ever slapped him so hard with this truth.
His jaw flexed, and twisted, betraying the sting of his father’s words. Then he laughed. It was a short, humorless laugh when he did, that sounded more like a snarl.
"Says the man who sent his wife away for protection," Landon shot back, leaning forward now, his tone sharp as a knife now. "Just because his younger brother said it’s not yet time to deal with an enemy. So you decided to follow suit. Like a loyal dog."
The words hit Ronan like a slap. His eyes widened, and a flicker of shock broke through his practiced calm. He quickly masked it, straightening, his chest rising with controlled breaths.
"You might have been young when Charlie died," Ronan said finally, his voice thick with something Landon couldn’t place. It was pain, maybe. Or regret. "But tell me, have you really forgotten what it feels like to watch your younger brother cry? Or worse... struggle? Would you have just stood to watch?"
Landon said nothing. His eyes rolled instead, dismissive, but his grip on the glass tightened.
Bringing it closer, Ronan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and his voice heavier now, each word weighed down.
"Bring it to me and Dominic, and yes—it’s all my fault." His eyes darkened, with memories flashing behind them. "I’ve carried that fault for years. I’ll carry it to my grave if I must."
The words hung thick in the air, pressing down on the room.
Landon swallowed hard, but forced the defiance back onto his face, clinging to it like armor.
"You might be my son," Ronan continued, his tone quieter, and steadier now. "But I’ve known him long before you were even born. Dominic is my younger brother, and we walked through hell together to give you this life of extreme privilege. And you sit here, sipping wine, sneering at me, forgetting the amount of blood that built the roof over your head."
Landon leaned back, his eyes narrowing again.
"You should be grateful, Landon. And you should keep your hands clean. That’s all we want for you. That’s all I want."
The silence after those words were deafening.
Landon sipped his wine slowly, and deliberately. His throat burned, but he swallowed it anyway, forcing his expression into something smug, and uncaring. However, under it all, something twisted in his chest.
Because for all his arrogance, for all his defiance, his father’s words landed where they weren’t supposed to.
And Ronan, staring at the son he didn’t recognize anymore, felt the same twist.
A gap stretched between them, wide and endless. Father and son. Bound by blood, yet divided by everything else.