Jason had faced battles before — the kind fought in distant lands and in the silence of his own exile.
But nothing compared to this.
Not the tight collars of duty, nor the weight of illegitimacy.
No.
This party — this glittering, polished arena of Ashbourne pride — was the hardest battlefield of all.
He hadn't meant to stay.
He hadn't meant to walk into the ballroom.
But Charles...
The boy had found him in the garden. And Jason had been struck dumb by the familiarity of the child's smile — Adele's smile — and his own eyes.
It felt like being split open.
Now he walked the halls of the estate with his back straight and expression composed, but every nerve was on fire. He caught whispers, saw the stares — some filled with confusion, others cold, calculating.
He didn't care about them.
He only cared about her.
And there she was — in a flowing gown the color of dusk, surrounded by polished conversation and false pleasantries.
Adele.
Jason had spent years trying to banish her image, to silence the echo of her laughter, to forget the warmth of her voice saying his name.
It hadn't worked.
Seeing her again undid him in a breath.
He was ruined all over again.
She didn't see him at first. She was poised and graceful, the perfect wife and Lady of the House. But her eyes… they looked empty. Like her soul was somewhere far from this party.
Henry was beside her, of course. Practically glued to her side. Possessive. Territorial. As if afraid the moment he looked away, someone would snatch her from him.
Jason didn't blame him.
Because the moment he saw her — the real her, in that instant she glanced toward him — he wanted to steal her.
To take her hand, pull her away, vanish into the night.
Their eyes met for the first time since the garden.
She froze for just a second.
And that was enough.
He saw it — the shimmer of emotion, the buried fire, the breathlessness she tried to hide.
He took a step forward, almost without thinking.
But Henry turned. His eyes locked onto Jason's like a blade being unsheathed.
Jason stopped.
And Adele looked away.
The next hour passed like a slow burn. Every smile she gave someone else, every touch from Henry, every step she took away from him… it dug deeper into his chest.
Leopold found him eventually, of course. With a glass of brandy and a tilt of his head.
"Well," he said, "you've certainly stirred the air. I suppose you enjoy walking into thunder."
Jason raised a brow. "Some storms are necessary."
"Others are reckless." Leopold glanced meaningfully toward Adele. "She's not the same girl you left behind."
"No," Jason murmured. "She's even more beautiful."
"Dangerous words." A pause. "And not just to yourself."
Jason didn't answer. He finished the drink. Let the fire warm his throat but not reach his heart. That belonged to someone else — always had.
Later, he stood in the shadow of the corridor, half-hidden behind a column, watching Adele laugh at something the vicar said.
It wasn't real.
He knew her smile.
That wasn't it.
He clenched his fists at his sides.
The man she married didn't deserve her. Jason had known it from the beginning, had begged his brother to step aside — had been willing to give up his name, his place in this house.
And still… it hadn't been enough.
Now, here he was again.
Standing in the ashes of choices not made, of words never said.
He watched Adele gently tuck a curl behind her ear as she smiled at a guest.
Watched Henry's hand linger too long at the small of her back.
Watched her eyes drift — just for a moment — toward where Jason stood in the shadows.
That was all he needed.
She saw him.
And he saw her.
There were oceans in her gaze. And pain.
And longing.
His heart roared in his chest.
This time…
This time, he wouldn't walk away.
He wouldn't let her go.
Not again.
She was no longer a dream.
And he was burning with the need to hold her, claim her, to never let her go again.
No matter what it cost.
No matter who stood in his way.