Page 85 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes
And somehow, that's enough to tip the balance back toward sanity.
Sebastian’s eyes darken, fury still simmering under the surface, but he reins it in, clamping down on it with that same ruthless control he always wields.
"This isn’t over," he says finally.
It isn’t a threat.
It’s a promise.
And somehow, I know he’s not just talking about the baby. And I’m surprised to find I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Chapter25
Gen
We relocated to my apartment, but I don’t feel any calmer at the moment.
If anything, the walls feel closer here. More suffocating. I feel weighed down by everything. I can’t breathe properly. But I’m playing possum. If I don’t, I’m pretty sure Silas might spontaneously combust.
He’s furious, muttering to himself under his breath, vicious words too low for me to catch. He’s pacing the living room in tight, furious strides.
Max sits on the couch, arms locked around my waist, anchoring me firmly against his chest. His touch is steady, constant, but the tension in his body is unmistakable. He isn’t any calmer than Silas; he’s just better at hiding it.
Thank fuck for Evie. She’s bustling around the kitchen, banging cabinet doors harder than necessary, filling the air with the clatter of mugs and the hiss of the kettle heating up. She hums off-key under her breath—something poppy and aggressively cheerful—and for a second, I want to laugh because it’s all so absurd.
Evie doesn’t do subtle. She’s angry too, in her own way. She’s just masks it under a veneer of normalcy.
I bury my face against Max’s chest, breathing in the steady, familiar scent of his cologne, the cotton of his shirt. It helps. A little. He slowly massages my tight shoulders, and for a while, no one says anything.
Max’s voice finally cuts through the quiet, low and measured, but with a sharp edge beneath it. "Why didn’t you tell him?"
I stiffen instinctively, and Max feels it. His hand stills on my back, but he doesn’t let go.
Silas stops pacing, pivoting toward me, his entire focus snapping into place like a predator scenting blood. The weight of their attention is suffocating, and for a second, I want to crawl inside myself and hide from it.
But I can’t. I owe them more than that. And, I didn't lie.
I pull back from Max’s chest just enough to meet his eyes, then Silas’s. My throat feels raw, scraped clean by the effort of keeping everything bottled up for so long.
"I tried.” I sigh and rub my hands over my face. Max’s hand resumes its slow path up and down my back, silently encouraging me to keep going. “I called. I texted. I emailed. I showed up at his offices.”
Max’s brows lift slightly, surprise flickering across his face.
"I didn’t make it past the lobby," I continue, my voice bitter. "Dom—his bodyguard, or fixer, or whatever he is—made it very clear I wasn’t welcome."
I force a laugh, brittle and humorless. "Short of hiring a singing telegram to show up at his office wearing a diaper and waving a 'You're Gonna Be a Daddy!' banner, I don’t know what else I could have done."
The words hang in the air.
Silas drags a hand through his hair, pacing again, his movements tighter now, more erratic. Max exhales slowly through his nose, the sound heavy with frustration.
Evie finally joins us, setting a mug of tea on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. She doesn’t sit. She just plants herself near the edge of the room, arms crossed, watching all of us with sharp, assessing eyes.
"And you didn’t tell us," Max says carefully, "because...?"
I shrug, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. "Because I wanted him to hear it from me. And, I don’t know, you have a relationship with him. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to fix it. To fix me."
Silas stops dead in his tracks.
