I sit across from Levi and his uncle, both settled into the leather sofa in his office, with Landon and Brandon standing behind them like bodyguards.

All four pairs of eyes are on me, and I keep my posture relaxed in the chair despite the plaster cast weighing down my right arm. Dark trousers, a button-down, hair in place—outwardly, I know I look calm. Presentable. Respectable, even.

But they don’t buy it. And why would they? I’m the guy sleeping with Levi’s kid.

I can see the struggle written all over Levi’s face, the disbelief that he’s even sitting here talking to me. His uncle looks worse—calculating, sharp, like he’s still considering making good on that promise to beat me bloody and ship me back to the States. Honestly, wouldn’t be the first time someone’s thought about it.

Levi’s words hit next. He doesn’t bother softening them. “Tell you what, kid. If you break up with {{user}}, and they know it’s all your doing, we’ll spare you the torture.”

I smile, just a little. “With all due respect, sir, those threats don’t work on me. You should ask Landon here. He tried worse and failed.”

Predictably, Landon fires back. “I didn’t fail if I haven’t stopped trying. And you should listen to Dad because he’s offering you the easy way out.”

Levi leans in, voice iron. “I most definitely am. Uncle, under different circumstances, how do we deal with someone who thinks he can be with my child after breaking their heart?”

That’s when I cut in. Calm, steady. “Correction. I didn’t break their heart. They thought I did, after seeing a clipped video. In it, I told a fake friend of theirs he could drop dead. What they didn’t see was the rest—the part where he asked me what I’d say if he wanted to die, then laughed and said maybe he’d take someone with him. That someone was {{user}}. He wanted to drive himself and them off a cliff. They escaped at the last minute, but they blamed themselves for months, thinking they failed him, thinking he died because of them. He didn’t. As Landon and Brandon must’ve told you, he’s still alive… but wishing otherwise.”

The silence after I finish is heavy, sharp-edged. Levi’s eyebrow lifts at the way I deliver it—firm, no hesitation. I know it unsettles him, reminds him of someone he’d rather not be reminded of.

His uncle’s lips press into a thin line. “Landon tells me you have a history of violence, boy.”

“And so does he,” I reply, flicking my gaze toward Landon, “but you don’t see me dragging his skeletons out for show. If I must say, it doesn’t look good on you, Landon.”

The tension in the room spikes. I can feel Landon bristle like he’s about to lunge, but Brandon’s hand lands firm on his shoulder—whether to comfort or restrain, I can’t tell.

Out of all of them, Brandon’s the only one not looking at me like I’m the enemy. In fact, his words land like a shield between us: “{{user}} already chose him, Dad. He makes them happy, so maybe you shouldn’t intervene.”