Die Alone And Be Alone
Rowan’s expression turned to ice. “When they’re old enough to understand what this family is... and decide for themselves if they want anything to do with it.”
The table froze.
That wasn’t a warning.
That was a line in the sand.
“They’re Vaughns,” someone whispered, almost panicked.
“They’re mine,” Rowan corrected, his voice as sharp as a blade.
Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
Rowan didn’t flinch. His tone remained steady, but there was ice under every syllable. “I mean they’ll be raised by me and Remi, not you. Not this family. When they’re old enough, they can decide what it means to be a Vaughn.”
Around the table, murmurs erupted again, some loud enough to catch pieces—“Disrespectful,” “He can’t do that,” “They’re Vaughns by blood—”
Lady Isolde leaned closer to me, her lips barely brushing the shell of my ear. “You need to understand something, darling,” she murmured. “All great-grandchildren born into this family belong to the Vaughns. It’s tradition. It’s not about custody—it’s about blood. Legacy. Whether you like it or not, the moment they were born, they were claimed.”
My stomach turned.
“They’re not trophies,” I whispered sharply.
Isolde didn’t respond to that. She just kept watching the room. But then, her eyes fluttered slightly, her jaw tightening as if something pinched sharply inside her. Her fingers twitched at her side, and for the first time since she walked in, she looked... not in control.
“Are you alright?” I asked, touching her elbow.
She blinked, like pulling herself out of a fog, and gave a tight smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long night.”
I nodded, unsettled. But before I could ask anything more, I heard Rowan’s voice cut through again. He was speaking to Sebastian, calm but cold.
“I’m not here for your approval. I didn’t come back for your blessing. And I won’t let you touch my children.”
Sebastian slammed his cane once against the floor. “Look at me when I speak to you, boy!”
Rowan didn’t turn.
I could see the tension in his back, his shoulders rigid beneath his suit jacket. His fists were clenched at his sides, but his voice remained cool, quiet. “I’m not a boy anymore.”
I swallowed hard, my hand tightening into the sleeve of his jacket.
I remembered that cane.
I remembered how it felt against my back, my arms, the sharp crack and the bruises I used to hide under sweaters.
And I wondered—just for a split second—if Rowan had ever felt it too.
“Rowan,” I whispered, tugging gently at his suit. “Let’s go.”
He looked down at me, the cold in his eyes softening for a brief second.
“Lady Isolde isn’t well,” I added quickly, using the one excuse I knew would push him. “Please.”
His jaw worked, frustration visible in the twitch at his temple. But he nodded.
He turned back toward the room. “This event is over. We’re leaving.”
Gasps again. Someone cursed under their breath.
And then—
Thwack.
The cane flew across the room, hitting Rowan square at the back of his head.
I gasped out loud.
Everything stopped.
Rowan staggered slightly forward, one hand instinctively going to his head.
I reached for him in panic, my heart crashing in my chest. Sebastian was already yelling again—but I didn’t hear him.
All I heard was the way my breath caught in my throat.
Because this time, Rowan didn’t flinch.
And this time, I wanted to break something.
I stepped in front of him before he could turn—before he could even think of reacting. My hands were shaking, my pulse thundering in my ears. I turned to Sebastian, who stood there smug, his hand still hovering in the air like he expected to be clapped for what he’d just done.
But no one moved. No one clapped. The room was dead silent.
“You don’t get to do that,” I said, my voice low but dangerous. “Not anymore.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t speak—”
“You did this to him,” I cut in, fire lacing every word. “You raised him in your image. You beat him, humiliated him, and trained him to be exactly what you wanted: cold, cruel, obedient. And look around, Sebastian. Look at what’s left.”
My voice was rising now, and I didn’t care who heard. “You have an entire family trying to please you so badly, they became monsters. Heartless, selfish shells of themselves, all desperate to earn your twisted approval. And for what?”
I took a breath, eyes burning. “To end up just like you?”
He said nothing. His jaw twitched, but the weight of my words kept him pinned to the spot.
“You did the same thing to Rowan,” I continued. “And maybe, maybe, the universe gave him one blessing by taking his memories. Because now? He has the chance to not be the man you raised him to be.”
Rowan looked at me then. Really looked. His lips parted slightly, a breath caught in his chest, like he hadn’t expected that to hit as hard as it did.
“My kids will never know you,” I said coldly, turning back to Sebastian. “They won’t meet you. They won’t shake your hand or listen to your stories. They’ll never look into your eyes and learn the art of cruelty.”
I stepped closer, almost nose-to-nose with him.
“Because if you touch one more person I love, I will ruin you in ways you didn’t think possible.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
“Die alone, Sebastian. Be alone. Just like you deserve.”
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
I turned to Lady Isolde, who was watching me with something between admiration and sorrow. Her eyes still looked tired, but there was fire behind them.
“Let’s go,” I said simply.
She nodded once, rising with more dignity than half the room deserved.
Then I turned to Rowan, who hadn’t moved, blood slowly trickling from his temple.
I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together, firm and steady.
“Come on,” I whispered.
And without another glance at the stunned, silent room full of Vaughns—we walked out.
Lady Isolde kept pace with us, her jaw tight, her eyes burning with a fury I hadn't seen before.
The moment the heavy doors swung shut behind us, she exploded.
“The nerve of that man!” she hissed, struggling to keep her voice down as we crossed the marble steps. “Beating his own grandson like he’s a dog. And they all sat there—watching. Like cowards. Like sniveling little cowards.”
“Calm down,” I said softly, glancing at her with concern.
“I am calm!” she barked—and then immediately started coughing, hard and deep from her chest.
Rowan was already unlocking the car, sliding into the driver’s seat with a stormy look clouding his face.
I helped Lady Isolde into the back seat gently, sitting beside her, rubbing her back until her coughing fit eased.
Her breathing was shallow, too shallow, and sweat beaded lightly at her temples. She was fighting something,
and now that the adrenaline had worn off, it was impossible to miss.
“Breathe easy, Lady Isolde,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
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