The study smelled faintly of whiskey and polished wood, the kind of room built to intimidate rather than comfort.
A half-burnt cigar lay abandoned in the ashtray, forgotten the moment his temper started boiling.
"Useless," Richard's voice cracked like a whip as the men lined up in front of him, heads bowed, sweat dampening their collars. "A week—an entire week—and not a shadow of him. What do I pay you idiots for, to chase your own tails?"
One of them dared to shift his weight. That small scrape of a boot against the marble made Richard snap.
"Stand still when I'm talking! God almighty, my son isn't some ghost slipping through walls. He bleeds, he breathes, he leaves a trail. And you clowns—" he jabbed a finger, rings glinting—"you can't find him? Pathetic."
Sarah leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, lips painted into a bored smirk. "Darling, maybe if you shouted less and thought more, we'd have better luck."
He swung his head toward her, eyes narrowing. "Don't start with me, Sarah. This is no time for your clever mouth."
"Oh, it's exactly the time," she said sweetly, tapping a manicured nail against the mahogany. "Because while you puff and roar like some injured lion, your boy is out there… slipping further away. And your men"—her gaze slid lazily over the group—"don't fear you enough to bring him back."
That last line made one of them flinch. Richard barked out a laugh that was sharp, humorless.
"You hear that? Even Sarah sees what I see. Stupid, slow, worthless." He slammed his fist onto the desk, rattling the crystal decanter. "If Ethan isn't dragged back here by the end of this week, don't bother coming back at all. I'll bury you in the same dirt you've been sniffing around like dogs."
The men stiffened, muttering a quick chorus of, "Yes, sir," before filing out. The door shut, leaving Richard breathing hard, shoulders tight.
Sarah plucked the cigar from the ashtray, twirled it, and said almost lazily, "You're going to pop a vein before you even see him again."
Richard glared at her, then collapsed into his chair, tugging at his silk collar. "If I die before that boy is found," he muttered, fanning himself dramatically, "tell the priest to bury me with a better son."
Sarah rolled her eyes, though the corner of her lips betrayed a smirk. "You're ridiculous."
"Brilliantly," Richard corrected, pointing at her with a grin that didn't quite hide his fury. "And don't you forget it."
Sarah circled behind his chair, draping her arms over his shoulders, nails grazing lightly against the silk of his shirt.
"Your runaway groom son," she whispered against his ear, lips curling, "making a fool out of you in front of your men. Quite the scandal."
Richard jerked upright, swatting at her hand though not really wanting her to move. "Scandal? It's humiliation! Do you know how many glasses I've raised in this city announcing his glorious union? My son was supposed to be married by now, standing like a prince beside the man I handpicked for him. Instead—" He threw his arms wide, nearly knocking the cigar off the desk. "Instead, he vanishes like some common delinquent."
Sarah tilted her head, feigning sympathy, though her eyes glittered with amusement. "Maybe he didn't want the leash you tied around his neck. Boys don't always dream of being paraded like cattle—especially not into a marriage he swore he didn't want."
Richard's face turned crimson. "Cattle? He was to be a king! Groomed for power, a husband by his side, wealth at his feet. And what does he do? Runs!" He slapped his chest. "From me! From my arrangement! Tell me, Sarah, who runs from their own father's brilliance?"
She smirked, sliding onto the desk and crossing her legs slowly. "Ethan, apparently."
Richard scowled, tugging at his hair as if the name itself were a headache. "Ungrateful brat. I gave him everything—a golden future, alliances, influence, security. All he had to do was stand there, smile, and say yes. And what does he do?"
"Bolts like a horse out the stable," Sarah said, laughter bubbling in her throat.
Richard stopped pacing, pointing at her. "Don't mock me."
"I'm not mocking," she purred, tapping her chin. "I'm just enjoying the show. You—huffing, puffing, stamping your feet—and Ethan, somewhere out there, breathing like a free man for the first time in his life."
He groaned, collapsing back into his chair with a theatrical sigh. "Free? No son of mine is free. He'll come back. He has to. Even if I drag him down the aisle myself."
Sarah leaned closer, brushing invisible lint off his lapel. "And what if you can't catch him? What if your golden groom doesn't want to wear the crown you've picked out?"
Richard stiffened, then plastered on that crooked, ridiculous smile. "Then I'll polish the crown until it blinds him, darling. One way or another, he'll come crawling back to me. They always do."
Sarah chuckled, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."
He fired back, grin widening.
Sarah's laughter rang light and sharp.
She leaned back on the desk, one leg swinging lazily.
"I've seen fathers marry their sons off to women for power. I've seen fathers tear their hair out when their sons sneak around with men. But you…" Her eyes glimmered as she bit her lower lip. "You're the first father I've ever seen who arranges his son's marriage to a man. Do you realize how absurd that sounds?"
Richard sat up straighter, puffing out his chest. "Absurd? It's genius."
She tilted her head, lips curling. "Genius? Or desperation? Tell me, Richard, why him? Why not some lovely girl you could parade around, diamonds on her fingers, bows in her hair? Why a man?"
Richard waved a hand, as though the answer were carved in marble. "Because he's the right one. A great man. The only one who can match Ethan without breaking him—or letting Ethan break him first." His voice sharpened. "Do you know how unbearable my son is? How impossible? No one can handle that brat's mouth, his tantrums, his ego."
Sarah chuckled, draping an arm over the back of the chair. "No one but this man you picked, hmm?"
Richard jabbed a finger in the air. "Exactly! He's the only one. The rest would crumble. This one won't. He'll tame him. Control him. Perhaps even save him from himself."
Sarah shook her head slowly, amused. "So this isn't about love. It's about finding someone strong enough to leash your son like a wild dog."
Richard smirked, leaning back with that ridiculous air of triumph. "Call it whatever you like, darling. Love, leash, fate—it doesn't matter. The boy will end up where he belongs. Beside the man I chose. And when he does, the world will look at them and see brilliance."
Her laughter returned, softer this time, but still sharp enough to sting. "You're not just ridiculous, Richard. You're playing god."
He grinned, utterly unbothered. "Then let the heavens envy me."
Sarah's nails drummed lazily against the desk. "You know what I think, Richard?"
He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "What now?"
"You didn't pick a man for Ethan because of his strength, or his brilliance, or any of that puffed-up talk." She leaned forward, smile widening. "You chose a man because deep down you know your son isn't as straight as he keeps shouting he is."
Richard barked out a laugh, quick and defensive. "Nonsense. He's stubborn, not soft."
Sarah tilted her head, the kind of tilt that meant she'd already won. "If you really believed that, you wouldn't have picked him a groom."
Richard opened his mouth, but before he could launch into another rant, his phone buzzed sharp against the table.
He snatched it up, glanced at the screen—his company. With a grunt, he rose from the chair.
"Business," he muttered, brushing past her.
But halfway to the door, his eyes snagged on a frame propped along the parlor shelf. A picture. Ethan—caught in mid-laugh, sunlight spilling over his face. The smile was wide, unguarded, free in a way Richard hadn't seen in years.
For a second, something unspoken flickered across his features—pride, longing, maybe even guilt.
Then he froze. His jaw tightened, and the softness vanished like smoke. "How dare you," he muttered under his breath, voice rough. "How dare you laugh like this after running from me."
He set the frame back down harder than he meant to, forcing the anger to cover the crack in his chest.
Sarah watched from the doorway, her own smile fading as she caught the slip he thought no one saw.
She said nothing, only leaned against the frame as he stormed out with the phone pressed to his ear.
When the door shut behind him, she exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head.
"Ridiculous," she whispered to herself. "Absolutely ridiculous."