Leave Me Alone, Big Brothers! [BL]-Chapter 61: Leinster

The Leinster estate was a fortress of glass and steel, cold and imposing, much like the man who owned it, Adam Leinster.

The man had just returned from a meeting. Marie, his second wife, was still awake in the living room, her cell phone in her hand. She stood up immediately when Adam walked past her.

Marie frowned at the strong smell of alcohol. She knew what kind of meetings always took up her husband’s time, meetings where men got together for the same pleasure under the pretext of work.

Marie knew, from the beginning of her marriage, that she would never get Adam’s full attention. She was just a substitute, and she was fine with that. Adam gave her plenty of things to enjoy by herself.

Marie grabbed the bag from Adam’s hand and followed him to the bedroom. Even with the strong smell of alcohol, Adam still seemed sober. So she plucked up the courage to speak.

"Did the meeting go well?" Marie asked, putting down the bag and helping the man remove his slightly messy tie.

Adam just nodded, his gaze lifeless, so empty and bored. "Nothing special. Just a routine meeting."

Marie was silent for a moment, her hands helping to unbutton Adam’s shirt.

"About David—"

Adam sighed before the woman could continue. "Don’t talk about it again. Let him face it himself. I will not interfere."

Marie frowned, slightly offended. "How can you just stand by when our son is being treated unfairly? Even the school didn’t call me. If David hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known. He’s being bullied!"

"Stop it. They’re kids. They fight. And I won’t make a scene with Salazar."

"Why? Do you care more about your job than your son?"

Adam looked at Marie, stopping her hands on his shirt. "You’re overreacting. That’s why your son is spoiled."

Marie stared at Adam sharply, unwilling to accept this. "Spoiled? Have you ever tried to get to know David? How is he doing in school? His basketball tim won the game, did you know that? Something your son could never achieve, and you still belittle David like this? As if he’s a nobody?"

Adam took a deep breath, clearly annoyed. "Stop it. You’re not getting my point. Just stop. I don’t want to hear anything about David and Salazar anymore."

Before Marie could reply, the man walked toward the bathroom and slammed the door.

Marie clenched her fists. She stomped out of the room, heading to the kitchen to get some wine.

As she walked down the stairs, she saw Zane, Adam’s son, walking in. The boy looked slightly surprised to see her before turning his face away and walking past.

"Zane," Marie called.

Zane took a deep breath, looking at Marie lazily. "I know I’m home late."

"Racing again?"

Zane was silent.

Marie walked toward him. "Eat something," she said softly.

If Zane hadn’t been familiar with this woman, he might have melted. But not anymore. She was a cunning vixen, one he regretted ever having loved as a mother.

"I’m not hungry," Zane muttered, tightening his grip on his bag.

Marie sighed. "You have to take care of your body. You know how weak you are. I care about you. Look at David, he’s healthy and active because he listens to me. You don’t want to disappoint your father again, do you?"

He took a deep breath and felt the familiar itch in his chest, the phantom tightness of his asthma. Not again.

"I’m not weak. Not anymore," Zane retorted, glaring at Marie with resentment. Then he walked to his room before the woman could give him another lecture, as if she were a caring mother.

Zane had been six when his mother died, leaving him with a father who looked at him and saw only a sickly child, and then a stepmother who brought in a healthy, vibrant son five years old, to replace him, or at least, that was how Zane saw it.

His father only considered him a useless child. Zane was convinced his father never cared about him because he had been weak since childhood, that he would never be like his father, that he would never be able to join the police force.

Meanwhile, David, that boy was very healthy and had strong endurance. He excelled at every sport, something Zane could never compete with.

But he had tried. He spent his time exercising, keeping his body strong. He tried not to trigger his asthma. And he tried not to show his weakness.

Zane walked quickly to his room. It was his only sanctuary. He threw his bag onto the sofa and unzipped his jacket, tossing it onto a table. He pulled his collar down to check his neck. No hives. No struggle to breathe. He was fine.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head of negative thoughts. He picked up his phone, it was 1:00 a.m. He opened the group chat, and thousands of messages popped up.

He scrolled through photos of the racetrack, sports cars lined up. If he hadn’t known Reynold, the organizer, he wouldn’t have been able to join; you had to be at least eighteen to compete. Even though it was an illegal race, Reynold stuck to his principles, except when it came to Zane.

Usually, Zane only came to watch the races with the street gang he had unknowingly built around himself. When he started trying to race, Lucas Salazar joined the same year. They raced for the first time, and Zane lost badly.

Seeing how aggressively Lucas raced, Zane knew his hatred for Salazar was justified. That family was heartless and cruel. On top of that, his father was submissive to them, which only fueled Zane’s resentment.

One of his boys sent him a message. "You don’t want to join us tonight?"

Zane replied lazily. "No, it’s cold."

"They’re not racing, just hanging out," came the reply.

Hanging out? That made him even less interested. He was only there to watch people race or to race himself, not to chat or socialize.

Zane didn’t reply. He left his phone to charge and headed toward the kitchen, only to turn back when he saw Marie was still there.

He was hungry. His stomach growled, he really hadn’t eaten anything since the protein bar in the car.

An hour later, he went downstairs again. The main lights were off, but the prep area was lit. He breathed a sigh of relief. Marie had gone.

There, a young chef named Ben, only a few years older than Zane, was prepping dough for the morning.

"Oh, hi, Zane! Did you just wake up, or did you not sleep yet?" Ben asked, surprised, wiping his flour-dusted hands on his apron.

Zane walked closer without answering.

"Everything okay? You need water?" Ben asked.

Zane sat on one of the bar stools, leaning his elbows on the marble counter. "I’m starving, Ben."

Ben chuckled. "I can make you a sandwich. Grilled cheese? Or there’s leftover roast beef."

"Anything."

"Well, you know you should eat earlier. It’s not healthy to eat at this hour," Ben said as he washed his hands, grabbed a bowl, and took fruit from the refrigerator.

"Not fruit. I want something heavy."

Ben paused, shaking his head. "I thought yesterday you said you wanted a healthy lifestyle."

Zane chuckled a bit. "I’ll start tomorrow."

"Again?" Ben laughed, finally serving him reheated roast beef.

Ben was friendly and easygoing, perhaps the only person who made Zane talk this much.

Zane chatted while finishing his meal. Then he remembered Nathan again, and the memory immediately made him uncomfortable.

He sighed. Nathan’s offended face and the lunch box bouncing off his foot were vividly clear in his mind.

Nathan had tried to be nice, to thank him, but Zane had bitten his head off, too busy drowning in his own insecurity.

"Ben," Zane said, looking at the young chef. "Can you make something to go?"

"To go?" Ben asked. "For school? Like usual?"

"Yeah. A lunch box. But a good one." Zane paused, looking away, his ears turning slightly red. "I want to apologize to someone."

Ben raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile appearing. "Is this for a girl?"

"Not anyone. Just a kid," Zane corrected sharply.

Ben laughed. "Okay. I can do a bento, grilled salmon, tamagoyaki, and rice. Is that okay?"

Zane nodded. "That’s better than a salmon sandwich, right?"

"Of course. I’ll put it in the premium box. I still have one. And I’ll make one for you too."

Zane nodded. "Thanks."

"Okay, I will prepare it in the morning before you go."

Zane nodded, stayed in the kitchen while Ben made the dough. The smell of eggs and flours filled the air. Warmer and more welcoming than the dining room had ever been.

Zane rested his chin in his hand.

He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to be friends, definitely not. He was just settling a debt. Nathan had saved him during an asthma attack, after all.

This was just balancing the scales.

Ben spoke again. "Is the kid special to you?"

Zane was silent. "No, not at all. He’s annoying."