The drive back to the Watson Estate was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional hitch in Jay's breath. Keifer drove with one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped firmly around Jay's hand, refusing to let go for even a second.
The Fortress Walls
[Jay's POV]
The grand iron gates of the estate swung open, but for the first time, they didn't just feel like an entrance to a home—they felt like the bars of a sanctuary closing behind us. I felt small, drained, and raw. My eyes were puffy from the breakdown in Room 413, and the red marks on my wrist had turned into a dull, throbbing ache.
As we stepped into the foyer, the heavy oak doors thudding shut, Mamma Serina was already there. She took one look at my tear-stained face and then at Keifer's bruised, split knuckles, and her maternal instincts went into a full-blown "General Watson" mode.
"What happened?" she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.
"A glitch in the system named Yuri," Keifer rasped, his eyes dark. "He touched her, Mamma. He tried to take her."
Serina's face went pale, then turned to stone. She didn't ask for details; she just stepped forward and took my face in her hands, her thumbs wiping away a stray tear. "You are home now, Jay-Jay. No one touches a Watson and stays standing. Keizer!" she called out, and Pappa appeared from the study, his expression hardening the moment he saw us.
The Intrusion
We moved toward the main lounge, Keifer's arm practically fused to my waist. But as we entered, we found the space occupied.
Bridget was sprawled on the velvet sofa, her textbooks scattered everywhere, looking perfectly comfortable. She looked up, a smug comment clearly on the tip of her tongue about our "early return," but it died when she saw the state we were in.
"Oh, look who's back," Bridget started, her voice dripping with artificial boredom. "Did the big, scary university get too much for the little—"
"Bridget, get out."
The voice didn't come from Keifer. It came from Mamma Serina. It was a tone I had never heard her use—cold, sharp, and utterly final.
Bridget blinked, stunned. "Excuse me? Auntie, I'm right in the middle of my—"
"I don't care if you're in the middle of a heart transplant," Serina snapped, stepping toward her. "Jay is hurt. My son is bleeding. This family needs this room for a private recovery, and you are currently a guest who is overstaying her welcome in this specific square footage. Pack your books and go to the west wing. Now."
Bridget looked at Keifer, desperate for him to defend her, but Keifer didn't even acknowledge she was in the room. He was busy guiding me to the armchair, his eyes fixed entirely on my wrist.
Realizing she had zero leverage, Bridget scrambled to gather her things, her face flushing with a mix of humiliation and a jealousy so intense it was almost vibrating. She slunk out of the room, the heavy doors clicking shut behind her.
The Recovery Protocol
The moment the doors closed, the tension in Keifer's shoulders snapped. He dropped to his knees in front of me, taking my injured hand in his.
"Keifer, your hand..." I whispered, reaching out to touch the split skin on his knuckles where he'd hit Yuri.
"It doesn't matter," he said, his voice cracking. He leaned his forehead against my knees, his breath shaky. "I failed the primary directive, Jay. I left you alone for two minutes and someone hurt you. That's a 100% failure rate."
"It wasn't your fault," I said, my voice finally regaining some strength. I reached down, running my fingers through his hair. "You saved me, Keif. You always do."
Pappa Keizer walked over, placing a heavy, steadying hand on Keifer's shoulder. "The legal team is already on it, son. Yuri will be blacklisted from every university in the hemisphere by morning. Focus on the Empress."
Mamma Serina returned with a first-aid kit and a tray of hot chocolate. For the next hour, the world outside the lounge ceased to exist. Mamma bandaged Keifer's hand while Keifer refused to let anyone else ice my wrist. We sat in the glow of the fireplace, a silent, wounded, but unbreakable unit.
The "Glow" had been dimmed today by a shadow, but as I looked at the Watsons surrounding me—protecting me, fighting for me, and loving me—I realized that shadows don't stand a chance against a sun this bright.