My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 98: Erasure (BC)

3rd Person POV

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After school, the Oakfield mansion had a quiet vibe, almost like it was wrapped in that late-afternoon stillness that settled in before the staff started their evening tasks. Adrien made his way to Noah’s room first, hoping to push away the thoughts that had been circling in his mind all day.

He opened the door and peeked in, but there was no sign of him. His notebooks was open on the bed, a novel catching the soft light from the window, but Noah himself was missing.

He hung around for a moment, taking in the scattered pencils and his soft cardigan draped over a chair, then gently backed out and closed the door behind him. If Noah wasn’t upstairs, he was likely with his mom in the conservatory or maybe running an errand somewhere on the estate. Either way, the stillness felt heavy, nudging him toward the one room he usually tried to avoid unless he really had to go in.

He made his way downstairs, the polished wooden steps creaking quietly underfoot, and headed toward his father’s study. The tall double doors were slightly open, letting the warm amber light from inside spill out into the hallway. Adrien paused for a second before pushing one door open and announcing his arrival with a soft knock as he stepped inside.

Keith Fell looked up from behind his mahogany desk, a glass of whiskey in hand with several folders spread out in front of him. He blinked once, looking almost shocked, before that expression shifted to a bemused one.

"Well," Keith said, leaning back in his chair, "this is a surprise. What do I owe to the pleasure of my son willingly stepping into my office?"

Adrien brushed off the edge in those words and took a slow step closer, his eyes scanning the paperwork and the glowing tablet beside it. "What are you working on?"

Keith lifted his glass just a bit before placing it down on a coaster. "The annual end-of-the-year gala. We’re doing it in Hayseville again." He spoke with the kind of confidence that came from years of planning events someone who thrived on organization and order.

Adrien let his hands slip into his pockets, glancing at the floor before looking up. "Is that because that’s where the first branch of Fell Corporations started?"

A small smile crept onto Keith’s face, clearly pleased that his son remembered something like that. "Exactly. The gala always goes back to where it all began. It’s symbolic, sentimental... and honestly, it’s good for the brand."

He picked up a pen, spinning it between his fingers before pointing at another stack of papers. "This year, we’re also having a fundraiser alongside the event. A pretty big one, actually. The funds will go to the children’s hospital in Hayseville. They’re expanding their oncology wing and asked for support."

Adrien nodded slightly, taking that in. "That’s... good."

"It is," Keith agreed, his tone softening just a bit. "People really like attending galas with a purpose. It makes the night feel more meaningful rather than just another pricey show-off." He paused, studying Adrien with a mix of curiosity and something unspoken. "What’s got you suddenly interested?"

Adrien shrugged, though it felt like a heavier movement than he meant. "Just wanted to see what you were up to." His eyes drifted briefly to the window, catching the last of the afternoon light bathing the room in deeper gold. "Besides, it seemed like you could use a break."

Keith chuckled quietly, reaching for his whiskey again. "Your timing is suspiciously perfect then."

For a moment, the room fell into an unexpected, almost fragile calm—a rare occurrence between them. Adrien stayed there, uncertain whether to hang around or leave, but the fact he was there at all was unusual enough that Keith didn’t push him away or fill the silence with his typical dismissive comments.

Instead, he took another drink and asked, "So... anything else on your mind?"

Adrien hesitated, tightening his jaw a bit, though he kept his face neutral. "Maybe. I’ll get to it."

Keith nodded once, folding his hands on the desk. "Take your time. I’m all ears."

The study, usually a place Adrien associated with distance and critique, suddenly felt a little less suffocating—just enough that he didn’t turn and bolt out.

Adrien stood there for a moment, letting his gaze wander over the study the shelves filled with leather-bound books, framed certificates from years ago, the faint smell of whiskey and old wood mingling together in a strangely comforting way. Watching his father lean back in his chair, speaking in that calm, steady way, something tightened in Adrien’s chest.

There were times, scattered and rare, when he remembered why people admired Keith Fell. He was controlled, generous when he felt like it, endlessly composed—a man who carried himself like he understood responsibility better than most. And despite the silence that hung between them like a wall neither knew how to break, Adrien couldn’t picture this man being involved in his mother’s death.

He had spent years suspecting it anyway because the case had closed too quickly, because no one questioned anything, because everyone had just moved on while he felt stuck, but right now, sitting across from Keith, that theory seemed almost absurd. Whatever faults his father had, being capable of something like that didn’t seem like one of them.

With that lingering thought, Adrien cleared his throat quietly. "Can I ask you something?" 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Keith set his whiskey down, giving him his full attention. "Of course."

Adrien paused for a second, then asked, "Did Mom... have a friend named Rachel?"

The silence that followed was heavy, almost immediate. Keith’s brow furrowed, confusion passing over his face as he leaned in slightly.

"Rachel?" he echoed, as if the name itself felt out of place. "Your mother hardly had friends, Adrien. She was... pretty solitary, even before things got rough." He shook his head slowly, lifting a hand as if to sift through distant memories. "If she had a friend named Rachel, I would’ve known. I was the one who took care of all her social stuff, her invitations, her appointments. That name never came up."

Adrien’s shoulders slumped a little, disappointment settling in quietly. Whatever hope he’d had of easily finding an answer faded pretty quickly. He nodded once, turning slightly as if ready to leave the room.

"Adrien," Keith called before he could step out.

He paused, glancing back.

"Why did you ask about that?" Keith’s tone wasn’t sharp or demanding, just genuinely curious, with a note of concern woven in. "Did someone mention something to you? Is someone claiming to have known her?"

Adrien looked away, shaking his head. "It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it."

"Nothing usually means something," Keith gently pressed.

"Let it go, Dad," Adrien replied, his voice low but steady as he started shifting his weight toward the door.

Before he could walk away, Keith pushed his chair back and stood. The movement felt deliberate, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t quite sure how close he could get. "Adrien," he said again, softer this time. "I know... things have changed. A lot." He let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck before letting his hand drop to his side. "And I’m still sorry for that. For how everything has shifted with me remarrying and bringing Helen and Noah into the house."

Adrien kept his eyes on the floor, his jaw tightening.

Keith continued carefully, choosing his words with care. "Marrying Helen doesn’t mean I’m trying to replace your mother. That was never my intention. Your mom and I... we weren’t in love to, but that doesn’t change the fact that I cared for her deeply. More than most people ever knew."

Adrien swallowed, something warm and painful curling up inside him. He didn’t turn around, but he didn’t leave either.

Keith’s voice softened even more. "I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to erase her or act like she never existed. I could never do that."

For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds were the crackle of the fireplace and the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Adrien’s hands curled slightly at his sides, the conflicting emotions washing over him in a slow, heavy wave.

"I know," he finally murmured, though whether he truly believed it or just wanted the conversation to wrap up, even he wasn’t sure.

Keith watched him carefully, his expression laced with something gentle, almost protective.

"If you ever want to talk about her... or anything," he said, "I’m here. Even if it doesn’t seem that way sometimes."