21: The broken bonds

The massive iron gates of the Levistis Mansion creaked open, revealing a long, winding path that led up to the stately yet cold building that had once been Leclair's home. The mansion loomed ominously in the twilight, its gothic architecture casting long shadows across the ground. Leclair sat in his wheelchair, staring at the imposing structure with a mixture of disdain and determination. Beside him, Augustin stood silently, his hand resting on Leclair's shoulder, offering silent support. The memories of this place were not kind to either of them, but today wasn't about the past—it was about justice.

"I hate coming back here," Augustin muttered, his voice filled with distaste.

"I know," Leclair replied, his tone measured. "But we don't have a choice. This is for Ethan. And for Adrian."

Declan, standing a few paces behind them, shifted nervously. "You sure about this, boss? Lady Sachel isn't exactly known for her hospitality."

Leclair smirked. "Hospitality is the last thing I expect from her."

With that, the trio moved forward. Declan pushed Leclair's wheelchair, his gaze shifting warily toward the mansion. As they approached the grand front door, it swung open, revealing one of the house attendants who nodded respectfully to Leclair and led them inside without a word. The tension in the air was palpable, the cold, lifeless energy of the mansion pressing in on all sides.

Leclair and Augustin entered the grand hall, the familiar smell of old wood and rich, suffocating perfumes hitting their senses. They didn't have to wait long. Lady Sachel appeared at the top of the staircase, her presence as imposing as ever. Dressed in a dark, elegant gown, she descended slowly, her sharp eyes scanning the room until they landed on Leclair. A smile crept across her face, but when her gaze shifted to Augustin, the smile disappeared, replaced with a sneer of disgust.

"Well, well," she said, her voice cold and haughty. "Look who's come crawling back."

Leclair's eyes darkened, but he remained composed as his mother approached them. Lady Sachel's disdainful eyes flicked between him and Augustin, her nose wrinkling in contempt.

"And you," she spat, glaring at Augustin. "You dare to bring this… this creature back into my house? How many times do I have to remind you, Leclair, that he is not welcome here? I told you before, and I'll tell you again—get him out. Now."

Augustin stiffened beside Leclair, his jaw clenching, but he said nothing. He had expected this, yet it still stung every time. Before he could move, Leclair reached out, grabbing Augustin's waist firmly and pulling him onto his lap. The gesture was protective, possessive even, and caught both Augustin and Lady Sachel off guard.

Leclair's lips twisted into a smile as he held Augustin close. "Augustin is my wife, Mother," he said calmly, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of defiance. "And there is no way he's leaving. Not now, not ever."

Lady Sachel's eyes widened in outrage, her face contorting with fury. "You dare—!" she began, but her words were cut short as Leclair, never breaking eye contact with his mother, took Augustin's chin gently in his hand and kissed him.

The room seemed to freeze in that moment. Lady Sachel's face turned red with rage, her hands shaking as she balled them into fists at her sides.

"Get out!" she shrieked. "Get out of my house! I won't tolerate this… this filth in my presence!"

Leclair finally released Augustin's chin and leaned back in his wheelchair, his expression calm but icy. "I'm not going anywhere until we talk. You might not like Augustin, but he's my husband. And you'll respect that."

Lady Sachel's lip curled, and she let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Respect? Ha! Respect for what? A crippled son and a man who can't even give you a child? You two are pathetic. A man who can't walk and a man who can't bear children—what a perfect match."

Her words were laced with venom, each one meant to sting, to wound. But Leclair didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, his smile never faltering.

"You think that hurts me, Mother?" Leclair asked, his tone sharp and cutting. "You think I care about your outdated views or your obsession with heirs and bloodlines? Augustin is my life. I don't need a child to feel fulfilled. What I need is for you to stay the hell away from Adrian and Ethan."

Lady Sachel's eyes narrowed, her smile fading as she sensed the shift in Leclair's tone. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice lower, more dangerous now.

Leclair's expression hardened, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. He leaned forward slightly in his wheelchair, his eyes gleaming with cold fury. "I know what you've been up to," he said, his voice quiet but dripping with menace. "The people you hired to attack Adrian? They didn't get away clean."

Lady Sachel's face went pale, and for the first time, real fear flickered in her eyes. She tried to maintain her composure, but it was clear that Leclair's words had struck a nerve.

"How did you…?" she whispered, her voice shaky. "How do you know about that?"

Leclair's smile widened, but it was a dark, sinister smile now. "I have my ways. You should have been more careful, Mother. You should have known that I wouldn't let anyone harm Adrian without consequences."

Lady Sachel took a step back, her hands trembling slightly. "I… I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, but the fear in her voice betrayed her.

Leclair's eyes glinted with satisfaction. "Oh, but you do. You were trying to get rid of Adrian because of that bastard child you've been protecting. You think I don't know about him? You think I don't know why you're so desperate to remove Adrian from the picture?"

Lady Sachel's breath caught in her throat, her face paling even more. "You… you wouldn't dare…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I would," Leclair said simply. "And I will. If you make another move against Adrian or Ethan, I'll make sure that child of yours—wherever he came from—disappears. Permanently."

There was a heavy silence in the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Lady Sachel's face contorted with a mixture of fear and fury, but she was clearly shaken. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come.

"How did you…?" she finally managed to choke out.

Leclair chuckled darkly, his eyes never leaving his mother's pale face. "How do you think?" he replied, his voice smooth, almost mocking. "I know everything. You raised me to be ruthless, after all."

For a moment, Lady Sachel stood frozen, her hands trembling as she realized just how much her son knew. She had underestimated him—gravely. Her carefully constructed plans were unraveling before her eyes, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Leclair, satisfied with his mother's stunned silence, gestured toward Declan, who had been standing quietly by the door, watching the entire exchange.

"Let's go," Leclair said calmly. "We're done here."

Declan nodded and stepped forward, pushing the wheelchair toward the door. Augustin remained seated on Leclair's lap, his face a mixture of relief and amazement at how Leclair had handled the situation.

As they moved toward the exit, Declan muttered under his breath, glancing down at the wheelchair. "Boss, I'm pushing two people here. Do you think this is easy?"

Leclair chuckled softly, the tension in his body easing slightly. "Consider it good practice, Declan. I'll give you a bonus for your trouble."

Declan grinned, though he still muttered something about "backbreaking work" as he guided the wheelchair out of the mansion.

As they exited the front door and rolled down the path away from the mansion, Augustin let out a long sigh, his head resting gently against Leclair's shoulder.

"You didn't have to kiss me in front of her, you know," Augustin said with a small smile, his voice teasing.

Leclair smiled, his hand resting on Augustin's waist. "I know. But I wanted to. Besides, it was worth it just to see the look on her face."

Augustin chuckled softly, his eyes filled with affection as he glanced up at Leclair. "Thank you," he whispered. "For standing up for me. For us."

Leclair's expression softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Augustin's temple. "I'll always stand up for you," he murmured. "Always."

As the mansion faded into the distance behind them, the tension in the air lifted slightly. But Leclair knew that this battle was far from over. Lady Sachel wouldn't give up so easily, and neither would the enemies circling Adrian. But for now, they had won this round—and Leclair would make sure they won the war.

Back in the mansion, Lady Sachel stood frozen in the grand hall, her face pale, her hands trembling. Leclair's threat echoed in her mind, and for the first time in years.