Chapter 43: Unfamiliar Warmth
Micah’s POV
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I woke up without a cold sweat soaking through my shirt. I hadn’t dreamed of Noah’s dark, suffocating shadow, nor had I felt the heavy, suffocating pressure of my father’s judgment pressing down on my chest. For a few fleeting hours, my mind had been completely, blissfully silent.
I stepped out of the steamy bathroom, a white towel wrapped tightly around my waist, water droplets still clinging to my collarbone. The air in the guest suite was cool and fresh. Breathing in deeply, I unzipped my bag on the plush armchair, searching for something simple to wear.
Just as I pulled out a simple top and a pair of casual shorts, a sudden, sharp knock at the door made me jump. The clothes slipped from my trembling fingers, tumbling onto the rug.
My heart instantly hammered against my ribs. I clutched the towel tighter around my waist, taking a slow, cautious step toward the door before turning the handle and pulling it open.
It was the elderly nanny standing in the hallway, looking neat and composed.
"Child, the master of the house has just arrived," she said softly, giving me a polite, encouraging nod. "Please put on your clothes and come downstairs for dinner in ten minutes."
My blood instantly ran cold. I froze on the spot, taking an involuntary step backward into the room. The master. Lord Silver. The head of the rival family. I wanted to blurt out a desperate no, to hide under the blankets and lock the door, but how could I? I was an uninvited runaway staying in his estate.
"Where... where is Damon?" I stuttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I bit down hard on my lower lip.
"The young master left about an hour ago and hasn’t returned yet," she replied, tilting her head slightly as her sharp, perceptive eyes noticed the terror written across my face. "Is something the matter, dear?"
"I..." I swallowed hard, my knuckles turning white against the towel. "I don’t think... I don’t think the master will accept someone like me being in his home."
"As long as you are not an enemy, you have nothing to fear in this house," she reassured me with a warm, gentle smile. "Now hurry along, child. Nine minutes remaining."
She turned and walked away down the corridor, leaving me standing in the doorway with my stomach churning in knots. Nine minutes?!
I slammed the door shut, panic tearing through my nerves. I rushed back to my bag, kicking the shorts aside and frantically pulling out a pair of long, black trousers instead. Wearing shorts in front of the legendary, ruthless head of the Silver family seemed like an absolute death wish.
Once dressed, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, my thumb shaking as I dialed Damon’s number.
Ring... ring... ring...
"Come on, Damon, pick up... please pick up," I pleaded into the quiet room.
Nothing. It went straight to voicemail.
"Fuck!" I hissed, shoving my hands into my hair as dread pooled in my gut. Why wasn’t he answering? Where in the world could he have gone right before his father came home? What if his father recognized my face, realized I was a Miller, and pulled a gun on me right there in the hallway?
I paced back and forth across the carpet like a caged animal, my eyes darting repeatedly to the digital clock on the wall.
Three minutes left.
One minute left.
Realizing I couldn’t delay the inevitable without disrespecting the head of the house, I forced my heavy legs to move. I slipped out of the room, my palms sweating profusely as I navigated the grand, silent upper hallway. I crept down the marble staircase, step by painstaking step, until the lively sounds of conversation drifted up from the main living room.
"Oh wow, what a massive surprise! I can’t believe you actually beat Levi on your history test," a deep, rich baritone voice chuckled from the lounge.
"It was literally by just one mark, Father!" Lucas’s voice grumbled in response.
The man let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed off the high ceilings. "Fine, fine! I don’t care about a single point difference. The point is, you both did phenomenal, and you’re making me proud. As a reward, I’m getting us all tickets to Disneyland next month."
"YAY!" the twins cheered loudly in unison.
I paused near the bottom step, my hand clutching my chest right over my racing heart. A strange, bitter ache throbbed inside my ribs. My own father had never spoken to me like that. Not once in my entire life had Pastor Bernard looked at me with pride, nor had he ever laughed with me so freely. To my father, I was merely a sin to be cleansed, a constant burden to be tolerated.
"Oh! Look! It’s Damon’s boyfriend!" one of the twins suddenly chirped, pointing a chubby finger straight at me.
My body flinched violently. I almost stumbled backward up the stairs to hide, but it was too late. The towering man sitting on the central leather sofa turned his head, his sharp eyes locking onto mine.
My breath caught in my throat. He looked so remarkably like Damon... the same broad shoulders, the same striking, razor-sharp jawline, and the same intense, commanding presence. The only difference was the distinguished silver-grey hair brushed back at his temples and the dark-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. He was quite literally the older, more intimidating version of Damon.
"Damon’s... boyfriend?" the man repeated slowly, his deep voice carrying a strange weight. The twins nodded eagerly beside him.
"I—" My lips parted, desperate to clarify, to deny it immediately before he threw a fit. My throat felt like sandpaper. I was terrified he was going to call security to drag me out into the street.
Instead, the man suddenly threw his head back and laughed loudly. The rich, vibrant sound echoed through the massive room, and the twins immediately joined in, giggling wildly as their father stood up from the couch.
"It’s the first time that reckless brat has ever brought a guest to this house, and it turns out to be his boyfriend?" he chuckled, shaking his head.
"I’m really not..." I stammered, my cheeks burning with a fierce, hot blush as he crossed the room toward me. "I’m not Damon’s boyfriend, sir."
"Oh? Is that so?" He paused a few feet away, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his piercing gaze swept over me. Up close, his height was terrifying. "Who are you then, young man?"
"I’m Micah..." I hesitated, my voice trailing off. My tongue felt heavy, frozen with fear. I couldn’t bring myself to utter the surname Miller.
"Oh," the man smirked, his eyes glittering with an unreadable light. "Bernard Miller’s youngest son."
A cold shudder ran straight down my spine. "You... you know who I am?"
"Oh, child," he murmured, his smirk widening as he stared down at me with an intensity that made my hair stand on end. "I know exactly who you are."
The cryptic way he said it made my stomach drop into a bottomless pit. Did he know me because of the bitter family rivalry? Or was there something far deeper, far more dangerous behind his knowing smile?
Before I could process the terror paralyzing my limbs, the heavy front doors swung open with a bang.
"Oh! Looks like the old man is finally back!" Damon’s loud, arrogant voice broke through the suffocating tension.
Lord Silver turned away from me, crossing his arms as he glared at his eldest son. "Ha! You ungrateful bastard of a son."
"Hey, if I’m a bastard, then that means you’re a bastard maker," Damon retorted effortlessly, striding into the living room with a cocky grin. "Why don’t you just hurry up, drop dead, and hand over the family property already?"
My jaw practically hit the floor. Why are they talking to each other like that?! Are they about to fight, or...?
"You absolute psycho!" Lord Silver barked.
To my absolute shock, both men burst into loud laughter as they closed the distance, wrapping each other in a fierce, tight father-son embrace, slapping each other roughly on the back.
"Damon! Damon!" The twins immediately abandoned the couch, hyperactively tackling Damon’s legs.
I stood frozen by the staircase, watching the chaotic, beautiful mess of their family. It was so warm, so incredibly lively, even though I clearly didn’t belong in a picture like this. The atmosphere here was light-years away from the freezing, silent graveyard I had escaped from just hours ago.
I pressed a hand flat against my beating heart, feeling an overwhelming wave of longing wash over me. Suddenly, Damon pulled back from his father, his dark eyes searching the room until they found mine.
He caught my wide, bewildered gaze and shot me a smooth, deliberate wink.
A sudden, intense heat exploded across my face, my cheeks flushing a deep crimson as I jerked my head away, unable to meet his gaze.
I didn’t hate it here. In fact, for the first time in my life, I felt safe. But as I looked at the powerful head of the Silver family, remembering his terrifyingly sharp words... I know exactly who you are... a heavy dread settled back into my chest.
I can’t stay in this haven forever... can I?