Chapter 114: An Impossible Choice

Micah’s POV

Father was here... He’s finally... Here.

The heavy front door had slammed shut seconds ago, and now the entire house felt like it was drowning in a suffocating, icy pressure. Even with Damon standing right beside me in the dim kitchen, his warm shoulder almost touching mine, I was shivering so violently that my teeth were practically chattering.

My head was spinning with terrifying thoughts. What was Father going to do when he walked in? What was he going to say when he saw his mortal enemy’s son—a Silver—standing right in our kitchen, holding serving dishes and helping set a dinner table that Father was supposed to eat from?

The sharp, echoing thump of Father’s heavy leather dress shoes reverberated across the hard wooden floor of the living area. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. My boots felt like they were glued to the cold kitchen tile.

He stopped right at the kitchen entrance.

His tall, imposing figure filled the doorway, casting a dark, terrifying shadow across the room. He turned his head slowly toward us, his sharp, stern eyes scanning the space with absolute disgust.

The moment his icy gaze landed on me, I froze completely. The air locked in my lungs.

"G-greetings, father," I stammered, my voice sounding pathetic, small, and trembling so hard I barely recognized it as my own.

Father’s head tilted slightly to the side as his dark eyebrows knitted into a harsh, bitter frown. He didn’t acknowledge my words. He didn’t even look at my face. He ignored my very existence completely, shifting his cold, murderous gaze past my shoulder to stare directly at Damon standing behind me.

Damon, completely oblivious to the danger radiating off the man in front of us, casually offered a lazy wave of his hand.

"Greetings, Mr. Miller," Damon said smoothly, his tone far too relaxed for a guy standing in a lion’s den.

Father’s chest heaved as his face twisted in pure, unadulterated fury.

"Micah!" Father yelled my name.

My entire body flinched violently. A wave of nauseating terror crashed over me, hitting my chest so hard I couldn’t even open my mouth to answer him. Not a single word would come out. My heart thudded against my ribs, beating so wildly that hot, painful tears instantly rushed to my eyes, threatening to spill over my cheeks.

I was so scared I felt like I was going to throw up right then and there.

Before Father could open his mouth to scream at me again or unleash his terrifying temper, the quick sound of light footsteps hurried down the hallway.

Noah appeared out of nowhere at the kitchen entrance, standing right beside Father.

Noah had a wide, bright, perfectly innocent smile plastered across his face... the classic Golden Boy expression that he always used to manipulate the entire world.

"Father!" Noah exclaimed smoothly, stepping forward with his hands open in a warm, welcoming gesture. "You’re finally home!"

Noah... Thank god.

Father’s harsh, violent face softened almost instantly the second his eyes fell upon his favorite son. The dark, murderous tension in his posture melted away into something calm and dignified.

"Yes, son. I’m back," Father said, his voice dropping into a deep, proud tone. But then, his head snapped back toward me, his glare turning icy once again. "And it turns out Micah invited a Silver into our home!"

Noah’s eyes shifted into the kitchen. He looked past me and locked eyes with Damon. For a split second, the bright, fake smile on Noah’s face flickered, replaced by a cold, dangerous frown directed entirely at Damon... not at me.

Damon, still standing there like an unbothered model, gave another lazy, amused wave with two fingers.

’This fool...’ I screamed silently in my head, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter so hard my knuckles turned ghostly white. ’This is not the time for your stupid games, Damon! You’re going to get us both killed!’

Noah stared at Damon for a long, heavy second. I could see the gears turning in Noah’s head. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to drag Damon out by his hair and beat him to a pulp on the front lawn. But Noah knew Father. He knew that if he threw a fit right now, Father would assume I was the irresponsible one who brought a random Silver into the house without permission. He knew Father would punish me mercilessly for it.

So, Noah took a deep breath, adjusted his posture, and turned to Father with a smooth, completely convincing expression.

"Oh, no, father," Noah lied effortlessly, his voice full of calm respect. "Micah didn’t bring him. I was actually the one who invited Damon over tonight. He got injured while trying to protect me during an altercation at school earlier today, so I invited him over so we could pray together for his recovery. I had no idea you were coming home tonight until Micah mentioned your texts a little while ago."

I held my breath, my chest aching from the sheer tension.

Oh, what a smooth, terrifying lie, Noah...

Father was completely buying it. Why wouldn’t he? It was coming from Noah... his perfect, righteous, golden son who could do no wrong in his eyes. If those exact same words had come out of my mouth, Father would have called me a liar, slapped me across the face, and demanded the truth. But because it was Noah talking about prayer, Father’s strict religious pride was instantly stroked.

Father stared at Damon for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly, before he gave a slow, approving nod.

"Since he is here for prayer, I will join and pray with him," Father declared sternly. He turned his harsh gaze back onto me, his voice sharp as a whip. "Arrange the dining table faster. I’ll be back down in a moment."

"Yes, father," Noah said respectfully, taking Father’s heavy leather briefcase from his hand.

Father turned on his heel and walked down the hallway toward his private master bedroom. Noah turned to follow him, carrying the bag to drop it off.

The very second Father disappeared into his bedroom and the heavy door clicked shut, the fake, pleasant smile vanished from Noah’s face like it was never there.

Noah spun around and burst back into the kitchen like a predator. Before I could even react, Noah lunged forward, grabbed Damon violently by his expensive shirt collar, and slammed him hard against the edge of the kitchen cabinets!

BANG!

The dishes on the counter rattled loudly.

"Noah...!" I gasped, my voice barely a whisper as my hands flew to my mouth. I peeped around the kitchen doorframe toward the hallway, terrified that Father would hear the commotion and come storming back out. "You can’t do this right now! Please!" I begged, my eyes wide with pure desperation.

Noah’s face was contorted in raw, lethal rage. His fingers were dug deep into Damon’s tailored shirt, his knuckles trembling with the urge to break Damon’s jaw.

Damon didn’t even flinch. He just leaned back against the counter, a faint, mocking smirk playing on his lips, though his dark eyes narrowed in dangerous challenge.

My heart was in my throat, hammering so fast I thought I was going to faint. Noah looked like he wanted to split Damon’s head open right here on the tile floor. But if Damon got angry, if Damon lost his temper and decided to fight back... what if he snapped? What if he spilled my secret to Father out of spite? What if he blurted out that I had been working at an underground host club?

At this point, with Father already furious at me for ignoring his texts, if Father found out about the club... he wouldn’t just discipline me. He would literally kill me.

"Noah, please..." I sobbed quietly, clutching at Noah’s sleeve with trembling fingers. "Please, don’t..."

Noah glared at Damon for three agonizingly long seconds. The air between them was thick with violence. Finally, with a harsh growl, Noah shoved Damon backward and let go of his collar.

"I’ll deal with you later," Noah spat in a low, dangerous whisper.

Without waiting for Damon to reply, Noah grabbed two heavy porcelain serving bowls from the counter and walked straight out to the dining area. I let out a long, shaky exhale, my knees trembling so badly I could barely stand. Damon adjusted his crumpled collar, giving me a quick, reassuring look, before grabbing the remaining silver trays to help set the table.

We moved as fast as we could, placing the bowls, plates, and cutlery in absolute, panicked silence.

By the time everything was set up, Father returned to the dining room.

I swallowed hard when I saw him. He had changed out of his business suit and was now wearing his dark, formal priest attire... the stiff white clerical collar fastly secured around his neck. Which meant be was heading straight to the church after dinner. The thought that he was leaving right after eating brought a massive, overwhelming wave of relief crashing over my chest. If he left for church, I would survive the night.

"Sit," Father commanded coldly.