[BL] A Marriage Ruled by Family, Saved by Desire-Chapter 49: Between Anguish and Revenge

~Alistair’s POV~

The world lurched. I tripped, my weak knees buckling completely. I didn’t fall alone. As I went down, I took Andrew with me, my hands clutching at his shoulders for a grip that wasn’t there.

We landed on the mattress with a heavy, muffled thud, a chaotic tangle of limbs and heavy breathing. I was pinned beneath him, the air knocked out of my lungs, staring up into his eyes as he hovered inches above me. For the first time since the hospital, the constant, screaming noise in my head went silent.

Andrew froze, his gaze searching mine with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Then, reality seemed to snap back for him. He scrambled up, his face flushed with a mixture of awkwardness and concern.

"I... I’m so sorry, Alis," he stammered, quickly pushing himself off me and scrambling to his feet.

I was too weak even to offer a word of reassurance; I just lay there, staring at him through a blurred, glassy lens. He looked down at me, his brow furrowed. "What happened to you? Why would you do this to yourself? Why drink this much?"

I couldn’t answer. His voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, gentle, concerned, but distant. Before I could even attempt a response, the darkness finally won, and I slipped into a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep.

I jolted awake hours later, the room bathed in the eerie, blue glow of the city lights. I was tucked under the duvet, the blankets pulled up to my chin. My head throbbed with a rhythmic, pulsing ache. I glanced at the bedside table, then at the sofa, where Andrew was slumped in a restless sleep, still in his dress shirt.

I reached for my phone. It was 2:46 AM.

The screen lit up like a graveyard of notifications, 156 missed calls. Most of them were from Alex, followed by an unending stream from his mother and our mutual friends.

My throat tightened as I opened our message thread.

The conversation was entirely one-sided. Dozens of messages filled the screen, stretching back for hours. He had been texting me relentlessly throughout the night.

I scrolled to the bottom.

The earliest messages were sent hours ago. The most recent one had come in only minutes earlier.

Baby, where are you? Please.

I’m worried sick. Just tell me you’re safe.

Alis, please answer me.

Just as I was scrolling through the digital wreckage, the screen lit up with a fresh message.

Alex: Baby, please... don’t stay silent. I can’t do this without you. Please come home so we can talk, I’m begging you. I’m so lost, I don’t know what to do... just come back, please. I need you here.

I knew Alex. He probably hadn’t slept a wink, he was likely pacing the living room, his world crumbling just as fast as mine.

I was still lost in my thoughts when my phone buzzed in my hand. It was Alex calling. I stared at the screen for a long moment before letting it go dark, refusing to answer. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

I sat up, the room swaying around me. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t let Andrew wake up and start questioning me, and I couldn’t hide in this hotel forever. In the end, I still had to face them.

I gathered my things with quiet, mechanical movements, careful not to disturb Andrew. I slipped out of the room like a ghost. At the reception desk, I left a brief, cryptic note for the staff to give him when he woke, thanking him for his help.

I slid into my car, the cold night air biting at my face. I wasn’t driving back because I missed Alex, and I wasn’t going back to make amends. I was going back because, by law, I was still a Montclair, and I refused to let his mother quietly celebrate her victory. If she wanted me gone, I would make sure her son felt every ounce of the chaos she had orchestrated.

The drive back was a blur of streetlights and cold resolve. I wasn’t the same man who had fled the hospital in a cloud of shattered glass and tears. That Alistair was dead. The man gripping the steering wheel now was a stranger, someone cold, calculated, and dangerously quiet.

As I pulled into the long, winding driveway of the Montclair estate, the house was ablaze with lights. It was nearly four in the morning, yet the mansion stood like a lighthouse in the dark.

After I parked my car, I stayed seated for a moment, taking a deep breath and gathering myself. Then, steeling my nerves, I finally stepped out and made my way to the door.

The moment I pushed open the heavy front doors, the silence of the foyer was broken. I didn’t just find Alex waiting; the entire household was paralyzed in a state of high alert. The house staff stood in the shadows of the hallway, their faces etched with fatigue and concern, but my eyes went straight to the center of the room.

Alex stood there, looking like a man who had been dragged through hell. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot and swollen. Beside him sat his mother and Sarah, both draped in silk robes, their faces masks of performative worry.

"Babe... you’re back," Alex choked out, his voice cracking as he took a stumbling step toward me.

His mother was faster. She hurried over, her hands reaching out as if to cradle my face. "Alistair! Son, where have you been? We’ve been out of our minds with worry. We almost called the police!"

I looked at her. I saw the triumph hidden behind her "worried" eyes, the satisfaction of a woman who thought she had finally cut the cord between me and her son. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even acknowledge her touch.

"I’m tired," I said, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "I need to rest."

The room went deathly still. My mother-in-law froze, her hands hovering in mid-air. The dismissal was so cold, so absolute, that it left her speechless for a moment. She cleared her throat, pulling her robe tighter. "It’s... it’s okay, son. You’re right. Go and rest. We’ll talk about everything in the morning."

I didn’t reply. I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a "goodnight." I simply turned and walked up the stairs, my footsteps heavy and deliberate.

When I finally reached our bedroom, I headed straight for the bathroom. I peeled off the clothes reeking of whiskey and let the scalding water of the shower cascade over me. I stayed under the spray until my skin burned, as if the hot water could scrub away the ache of betrayal.

When I finally returned to the bedroom, Alex was there, sitting at the edge of the bed with his head bowed. The moment the door opened, he lifted his gaze, eyes fixed on me. He didn’t speak, he just watched, desperation and something haunting lingering in his expression, as I moved to the wardrobe to change into my pajamas.

As I pulled back the covers, Alex finally spoke, his voice tight with worry. "Babe... where have you been? I was worried, I thought..."

I didn’t even look at him. I raised my hand, a silent command for him to stop. "I’m tired, Alex. I need to sleep."

The "baby" he had expected, the one who would cry and demand answers, wasn’t there. Alex let out a shaky, defeated breath. "Okay... okay, baby. Rest. We can talk in the morning."

I climbed into the bed and immediately grabbed the spare pillows, stacking them in a high, sturdy wall down the center of the mattress. I turned my back to him, facing the wall, plunging my side of the world into shadow.

I heard him sigh... a long, broken sound that echoed in the quiet room, but I felt nothing. No pity, no tenderness, no anger. Just the hollow silence of the end. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me, leaving him alone in the dark with the pillows between us.

When I woke the next morning, a dull, pulsing headache throbbed behind my eyes. I shifted slowly, my body heavy with the remnants of the whiskey and the weight of the previous day. Alex was already up. He was sitting on the sofa across from the bed, his silhouette dark against the morning light, thumbing silently through his phone.

Suddenly, a ringtone pierced the quiet. I frowned, confusion clouding my mind; I distinctly remembered silencing my phone at the hotel. I reached for my nightstand, but the mahogany surface was empty. I followed the sound across the room.

My phone was sitting on the coffee table right next to Alex.

A flicker of cold realization crept into my chest. How did my phone end up there? If it was close to Alex, he must have gone through it. He clearly knew I had been at the hotel, and maybe even that I was with Andrew. In the past, that thought would have terrified me. Now? I didn’t care. His opinion was a currency that no longer held any value.

The call dropped, then rang again instantly. I staggered to my feet, my head spinning, and grabbed the phone from the table. The screen lit up: Andrew.

I swiped to answer, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. "Hello?"

Alex’s head snapped up. His eyes were red-rimmed and dark...