Under the Veil I Rule (Amara) novel Chapter 407

Lucian was clearly interested in Elysia, but despite his cool exterior, he was a shy young man, too hesitant to say it outright. It was all up to Elysia.

Elysia hesitated. “Maybe I should?”

“If you want to go, then go,” Amara encouraged, patting her shoulder.

Elysia grabbed her hand. “Come with me, Ama. I don’t want to see him by myself.”

“Alright.”

***

As Dorian drove home, Amara’s words echoed in his mind. She had said he’d treated Elysia poorly, and she was right. He had been a complete bastard to her. He’d always told himself he hadn’t crossed any real lines, that there was nothing serious between him and Jessica. But if he were in Elysia’s shoes, if she had behaved that way with another man, he wouldn't have been able to stand it.

He owed Elysia. So much. Did that mean she didn’t love him anymore? Was she going to be with someone else? The memory of the hickey on her skin, of seeing her emerge from a bedroom with another man, twisted his gut with a pain that was almost physical.

He tried calling Finnian, needing someone to talk to, but the call wouldn’t go through. Just then, a message popped up in a group chat he was in with some other trust-fund kids.

“Heard something big. The eldest son of the Everly family is getting engaged to Liliana. Is this for real?”

“I heard that too, not sure if it’s true.”

Emma, sitting primly on the sofa, frowned. “You’re nearly thirty. Of course you’re getting married. Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, I’ve already settled it. If you back out now, how will I ever show my face in public again?”

Finnian stared at her, his eyes cold. He remembered a childhood filled with the sounds of his parents fighting. His father was always with other women, yet treated his mother with cold indifference. As a little boy, he had felt sorry for her. He remembered climbing onto a stool at five years old to make her soup when she was drunk with grief over his father. He remembered confronting his father, drunk and stumbling home, demanding to know why he treated his mother so horribly.

And what had he gotten for it? Insults and rejection, again and again.

“Get away from me! Don’t touch me! Even after I had you, he still wouldn’t come home to see me. What good are you to me? Get out of my sight!”

“Everyone says you’re so clever. Why can’t you convince your father to come home more often? What was the point of having a useless son like you? Get out! You’re bothering me!”