CEO loves me with all his soul.-Chapter 120.

Isaac stepped into the house and was met by silence.

The apartment smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and old pine wood—too clean, too undisturbed. Shoes were neatly lined up by the door, the lights were all off, and nothing had moved in days. His coat slung from his hand, landing on the hook without thought, as he stepped deeper inside.

The quiet was suffocating.

He stood still in the hallway, letting the emptiness press in from all sides. It used to be a place filled with sound. Lucas’s keys jingling at the door. The low hum of music in the kitchen. Laughter—soft, warm, and real. Now, all of it had been stripped away, and the walls echoed like a tomb.

Isaac didn’t even bother checking the fridge. He wasn’t hungry.

Instead, he wandered into the living room and stared at the sofa—brown leather, slightly worn on the edge where Lucas used to sit while flipping through medical journals. The coffee mug Lucas always left half-full was gone, probably thrown out during the cleanup, but Isaac could still see it there.

Still see him there.

The ache twisted like a hook behind his ribs.

He turned away quickly, grabbing his keys again.

The streets were mostly empty as night deepened. Rain threatened but hadn’t fallen yet. Isaac didn’t mind the cold air cutting against his cheeks—it helped him focus, kept the shadows of memory from overwhelming him completely.

He found himself walking with intention, not realizing where he was going until the tall wrought-iron gate came into view.

Levistis Manor.

The black-painted iron shimmered under the streetlights, and the old mansion behind it loomed like a sentinel carved into the bones of the city.

Isaac didn’t hesitate to buzz in. The gate clicked open.

Inside, the front steps were lit by warm golden sconces, and the heavy oak doors opened before he could knock. Leclair stood there in loose linen slacks and a silk-collared shirt, his black eyes widening a fraction in surprise.

"Isaac?"

Isaac offered a tired shrug. "Didn’t want to sit in silence. Figured this place still had working tea kettles."

Leclair stepped aside without question. "Come in. You look like hell."

"Thanks," Isaac said dryly. "It’s my best look lately."

The manor’s interior was elegant—clean and timeless, with oil paintings lining the walls and polished wood floors that barely creaked underfoot. Leclair led him into a sunken sitting room with high windows and floor-length curtains drawn against the night.

"You were gone the whole day," Leclair said as he disappeared into the adjacent kitchen. "I heard what happened yesterday."

Isaac flinched but kept his voice calm. "About the kidnapping or the part where Dorian Shaw tried to shot me alive?"

A clatter of porcelain. "Both."

He sighed, sinking into the velvet couch. "He raised me, you know. After I got lost. He saved me once—and then tried to kill me like I was just another piece in his game."

Leclair reappeared moments later with a tray: two cups of steaming tea, a tiny jar of honey, and a small plate of sliced citrus.

Isaac blinked. "You always this fancy with tea?"

"I’ve got twins in the house. Fancy tea is my only luxury," Leclair muttered, setting the tray down and pouring both cups with graceful efficiency. "You’re lucky I didn’t hand you a cold bottle and a crying baby."

Isaac chuckled once. It felt unfamiliar.

He took a sip, letting the heat seep into his bones. "Thanks."

Silence settled briefly between them. The crackle of the fireplace was the only sound.

Isaac’s eyes drifted toward the stairs. "Where are they?"

Leclair blinked. "Who?"

"Ethan and Adrian," Isaac said, narrowing his gaze. "I haven’t seen either of them today. I’ve been trying to call, but no one’s picking up."

Leclair hesitated just a beat too long.

Isaac set his teacup down slowly. "Leclair."

"They’re fine."

"That’s not an answer."

"I said they’re fine, Isaac."

"Then why the pause?" Isaac’s voice hardened. "Why are you looking at me like I’m going to break?"

Leclair met his eyes but didn’t speak. Isaac stood.

"I’m not a child. I’m not someone you have to shield. Tell me what’s going on."

"You just survived an attempted execution and a kidnapping—"

"And if something’s happened to Adrian, I deserve to know." Isaac’s hands curled into fists. "He’s my little brother. Talk to me."

Leclair exhaled sharply. The gentlemanly calm cracked for a moment.

"He left," he admitted, voice low. "Late last night. With Ethan."

Isaac’s entire body tensed. "Where?"

"He didn’t say."

Isaac’s eyes flashed. "Leclair—"

"He told me to stay back and rest," Leclair said quickly, standing now, one hand raised as if to keep Isaac from exploding. "Ethan didn’t want him to go, but Adrian insisted. Said he couldn’t wait anymore. That we were running out of time."

Isaac’s voice dropped to a growl. "So you let him go into enemy territory alone?"

"He’s not alone," Leclair said. "Ethan and Augustin are with him. He’s not reckless. He has connections, intelligence. You know how Adrian thinks. He’s careful."

"He’s gentle," Isaac shot back. "He’s soft in ways none of us are. He’s brave, yes—but he’s not a soldier."

"No," Leclair said, nodding. "But he’s strong—and we both know what that means. He’s not helpless. And he made this choice. I didn’t stop him because I trust him."

Isaac turned away, pacing now, the tea forgotten.

"We should go after him," he muttered.

Leclair stepped in front of him. "You’re still healing, Isaac."

"I don’t give a damn—"

"And if you go stomping into whatever trap Adrian’s walking into, you’ll compromise the entire operation," Leclair snapped. "Use your head."

Isaac’s chest heaved with restrained fury.

"He’s all I have left."

Leclair’s expression softened. "You’re not alone, Isaac. Not anymore. And Adrian will be back."

Isaac didn’t answer. His mind was already spiraling—routes, locations, contacts he could call. The intelligence Ethan might have left behind. Clues in Adrian’s phone messages. Anything.

He couldn’t lose another person.

He wouldn’t survive it.

Leclair placed a hand on his shoulder, firm but not forceful. "If something changes, I’ll tell you. But for now... trust your brother. Trust Ethan. They’re stronger than you think."

Isaac’s jaw clenched, his gaze still burning toward the door.

"I hope to God you’re right," he said softly. "Because if Adrian doesn’t come back... there won’t be a war. There’ll be an extinction."

--

-

-

The sun had barely spilled through the gauzy curtains of the hotel dining room when Augustin entered, half-awake and modestly dressed in a sharp button-down and slacks that looked too crisp for how groggy he felt.

He froze in the doorway.

There they were.

The Married Menaces.

Adrian was perched delicately on Ethan’s lap—yes, lap—curled sideways like a shy kitten, wearing one of Ethan’s oversized sleep shirts that hung off one shoulder and revealed the faint red flush crawling up his neck and cheeks. His long black hair was messily tied back, and his silver eyes peeked up under long lashes like he was completely unaware of how domestic and devastatingly sweet he looked.

Ethan, the demon himself, was dressed in loose black silk pajamas and looked freshly showered—hair tousled, scent of coffee and mint, bare feet stretched out under the table. He was feeding Adrian little pieces of buttered toast with all the casual arrogance of a man hand-feeding a shy prince.

"Open," Ethan murmured, holding up another piece of toast.

Adrian’s fingers twitched toward the plate, but Ethan shook his head with a smirk. "No hands. That’s the rule today."

Augustin groaned loudly and marched toward the coffee machine. "I came here for breakfast, not to be third-wheeled by a live romance novel."

Adrian nearly dropped the toast in his mouth and looked like he might faint. "G-Good morning, Augustin."

Ethan raised a brow, unconcerned. "Good morning to you too, Jealousy."

"I’m not jealous," Augustin snapped, pouring his coffee. "I’m disgusted."

"You’re jealous," Ethan said smoothly, kissing the top of Adrian’s head and leaning back in his chair like he owned the entire building and everyone’s sanity.

Augustin narrowed his eyes. "You two are married. Can you not act like honeymooners on every flat surface of this house?"

"We’re celebrating intimacy," Ethan replied shamelessly.

Augustin took a loud, scalding sip of coffee. "You’re celebrating my eyes going blind."

Adrian let out a quiet giggle and tried to climb off Ethan’s lap, but Ethan wrapped a strong arm around his waist and didn’t let him go. "Stay. I’m feeding you."

"I can feed myself," Adrian mumbled, eyes averted. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

"Not when I’m here," Ethan said. "Wife duties."

Augustin looked like he might choke on the spoon he was holding.

"Leclair’s going to hear about this," Augustin muttered, pulling out his phone dramatically. "I swear I’ll send him a video. He’ll see what I’m enduring while he’s off being a good husband and not publicly mauling me at the breakfast table."

Adrian squeaked, hiding his face in Ethan’s shoulder.

"Oh no," Ethan said, eyes glittering with mischief. "Please don’t expose me. My reputation for being an upstanding citizen will be ruined."

"You don’t have a reputation," Augustin deadpanned. "You have charges pending."

That made Adrian laugh into Ethan’s shirt.

Augustin sat down with his coffee and toast, eying the plate Ethan had prepared like it had been poisoned with hormones.

"Honestly," Augustin said, biting into his food and glaring at Ethan’s shameless expression, "the only reason I’m not flipping this table is because I know I’ll miss Leclair more if I start being bitter. More, Ethan. That’s your fault."

"Sounds like a you problem," Ethan drawled, feeding Adrian another bite, his hand trailing up Adrian’s thigh with all the subtlety of a storm.

Augustin slammed his hands down. "I’m calling Leclair. Right now."

"Put him on speaker," Ethan said without hesitation. "I’d love to remind him you’re lonely."

Augustin gritted his teeth as his phone rang. "You are so annoying—"

"Say it louder," Ethan said. "I get stronger when you suffer."

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