Chapter 25
Remy's phone buzzed on the centre console, interrupting his thoughts. A group message notification from the chat he shared with Lyra, Nyx, and Indigo.
A private thread they'd created after the courtyard confrontation, somewhat awkwardly titled "The Four of Us" because no one could think of anything better.
**Lyra**: We need to talk. All of us. Tonight.
**Nyx**: Agreed. The current arrangement is unsustainable without clear boundaries and expectations.
**Indigo**: I've been thinking about this, too. We need to figure out how this actually works. Like, logistically. Emotionally. All of it.
*Lyra*: My place at 8? Parents are at a business dinner.
*Nyx*: I can be there.
*Indigo*: Me too.
Remy stared at the messages, his heart rate increasing slightly despite his usual calm.
The confrontation in the courtyard had been the beginning, a public declaration of something unconventional and brave.
But the reality of their "harem" arrangement, as some of the cruder students had started calling it, was something they still needed to settle.
What does this actually look like? How do you balance time and attention between three different women with three different needs?
How do you prevent jealousy from poisoning what they were trying to build?
How do you maintain individuality while being part of something collective?
These weren't questions his Foresight could answer because they depended on human emotions and choices that were too complex and variable to predict with certainty.
*Remy*: No need I'll be taking you all out. We'll figure this out together.
*Lyra*: Together. I like that. ❤️
*Nyx*: Emotional sentiment acknowledged and reciprocated.
*Indigo*: Nyx, you're such a robot sometimes 😂 But yes. Together.
Remy set down his phone and looked out the window as the late afternoon sun painted the city in shades of gold and orange.
He had started this journey six months ago with a rope around his neck, standing on a wooden chair in an apartment that smelled like despair, ready to end everything because the pain was too much to bear.
Now, he held the threads of the future in his hands, not just his own future, but the futures of three women who'd been broken in different ways and were learning to heal.
He had wealth beyond his wildest dreams. Power beyond what he'd imagined possible. Respect from people who'd once mocked him.
But sitting in his expensive car with his laptop full of business deals and investment portfolios.
Remy realised something important: None of the money, none of the power, none of the success meant anything if he couldn't figure out how to actually love the people who'd chosen to trust him.
"Grandpops," he said quietly, "how do I do this? How do I be what they need without losing myself? How do I build something real instead of just performing the role of the perfect boyfriend times three?"
Silas was quiet for a long moment, his ghostly form flickering in the fading light. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of 176 years of regret and hard-won wisdom.
"You start by being honest," he said. "Honest about your limitations, your fears, your own needs.
You can't be everything to everyone, boy. And you shouldn't try. What you can be is present, authentic, and committed to figuring it out together, even when it's messy, even when it hurts, even when you don't have the answers."
"That's terrifying," Remy admitted.
"Love usually is," Silas replied with a sad smile. "The divine gift I gave you lets you see the future.
But it can't tell you how to feel, or how to make others feel, or how to navigate the complicated terrain of human hearts.
That's a different kind of sight entirely. One you have to develop through experience, through mistakes, through being vulnerable enough to let others see you clearly."
Remy checked his watch. 6:47 PM. He had just over an hour before the meeting at Lyra's house, the estate her great-grandfather had built, which she'd almost lost, which Remy had helped save.
An hour to prepare for a conversation that felt more important than any business deal or market prediction.
He closed his laptop and started the engine, the Audi's V10 rumbling to life with that distinctive sound that still gave him a small thrill despite months of ownership.
As he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the north side of the city, toward Lyra's family estate, he activated his Foresight one more time.
He saw fragments of the evening ahead:
Lyra, nervous but determined, was sitting in her family's formal living room with notes she'd prepared, as if this were a business negotiation.
Nyx, analytical and precise, brings printed materials about polyamorous relationship structures and communication protocols.
Indigo, vulnerable and scared, worried she didn't belong in this group because she was the one who'd tried to manipulate him first.
He saw difficult conversations, tears, moments of jealousy, and insecurity.
But he also saw laughter and understanding, three women who'd been rivals learning to support each other, the beginning of something genuinely beautiful if they could navigate the obstacles.
The future wasn't certain. There were too many variables, too many emotional complexities.
But for the first time since receiving the gift of Foresight, Remy found that uncertainty is exciting rather than terrifying.
As he drove through the city streets, past the university campus where his transformation had begun, past the gym where he'd ended Marcus's reign, past the restaurant where he'd kissed Lyra under city lights, Remy Beaumont allowed himself to feel something he hadn't felt in a very long time:
Hope. Not the desperate hope of someone standing on a chair with a rope, but the cautious, realistic hope of someone who'd been through hell and come out stronger, who'd been broken and rebuilt himself, who'd been given impossible gifts and was trying to use them wisely.
"I'm ready," he said aloud to the empty car, to the ghost in the passenger seat, to the three women waiting for him, to the future that was uncertain and complicated and possibly beautiful.
"I don't have all the answers. But I'm ready to try."
And somewhere in the invisible realm, the Goddess who'd taken pity on Silas's soul all those years ago, who'd granted the gift of Foresight to his bloodline, smiled at the young man who was learning that the greatest power wasn't seeing the future, it was having the courage to face it honestly, with an open heart and willing spirit.
The game had changed completely since that desperate night six months ago.
But the most important game, the one played with hearts instead of markets, with love instead of power, was only just beginning.
And Remy Beaumont, former victim turned reluctant hero, was all in.