International Manwhore – Part 26 (Patreon)

Everyone in this story is 18+

The silence in the dining room pressed down on me until it felt like the air itself had turned solid.

Father stood at the head of the long table, calm as ever in his dark suit. Leona hovered half a step behind him like a shadow that had learned how to wear heels. Adrien leaned against the sideboard, arms loosely crossed, looking far too comfortable for a man who was supposed to be surrendering.

Father’s voice cut through the quiet, smooth and businesslike.

“The terms are simple, Thomas… Adrien… whatever you’re calling yourself these days. You transfer every major shipping asset, every port contract, every contact you’ve cultivated over the last decade. You sign a full settlement on your father’s death. No further investigation. No civil suits. No quiet whispers to the press. In return…”

He reached into his jacket pocket and placed a small black hardware wallet on the polished table, sliding it forward with two fingers.

“…I give you the device right here, right now. One million dollars’ worth of bitcoin. Untraceable. Yours the moment the papers are signed.”

Adrien’s eyes flicked to the device, then back to Father. He gave a single, measured nod.

“Agreed.”

The words hit me like a slap across the face. I jerked forward in the chair, wrists burning against the zip ties. “You sold out for a fucking mill?”

Father didn’t even glance at me. Adrien did, but only for a second. There was no shame in his eyes. Just that same calm, satisfied look that made my stomach twist.

Leona spoke up, her tone cool and professional. “Mr. Tucker needed to know Adrien would actually follow through. I was vital in building that trust. Without me, none of this would have worked.”

Father gave a small, satisfied nod. “Exactly. Leona has been… indispensable.”

I stared at Adrien, waiting for something — anything — that resembled the man who had kissed me on the yacht. Nothing came. My chest felt tight, the betrayal sitting heavy and sour in my throat.

The door at the far end of the dining room opened.

A boy ran in — small, maybe eleven, dark hair slightly messy, wide gray-green eyes that hit me like a punch to the gut. The resemblance was immediate.

It had to be his brother.

He skidded to hug Adrien and looked up at him with open relief. “Thomas!”

Adrien’s hand came down gently on the boy’s shoulder. For the first time since he’d walked in, something in his expression shifted — just enough for me to notice.

I stared, the pieces slamming into place. “Shit…”

Adrien looked at me then. Really looked. For a single heartbeat the smug mask slipped, and there it was — the first sincere flash of regret I had seen since the villa in the South of France.

Then it was gone.

He turned to Father, voice steady. “The device?”

Father slid the black wallet the rest of the way across the table. Adrien picked it up, checked it once, and slipped it into his pocket.

“We’re done here,” he said quietly.

He gave Theo’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Come on.”

Leona fell into step beside them without a word. The three of them walked out together — Adrien, Leona, and the boy — leaving the dining room door open behind them.

I sat motionless in the chair, wrists still bound, the echo of their footsteps fading down the corridor.

Father remained standing at the head of the table, expression unchanged.

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything that had come before.

Father remained standing at the head of the table, expression unchanged.

“Now you two… my two major disappointments,” his voice was low, cold, and disgustingly composed.

He looked at Sebastian first.

“Sebastian, living with what appears to be a gay collective or some nonsense. Being in a relationship with some boy… Lex?”

Sebastian’s face went pale. “You know?”

Father let out a short, bitter laugh. “Of course I know. Do you think I’m stupid? Letting him defile you in the boardrooms after our meeting in London. Sickening.”

I felt rage surge through me. “Leave him alone! You’re the sick one!”

Father’s eyes snapped to me, sharp as knives. “Shut your mouth, boy! You’re just as bad — if not worse! Worst ‘agent’ in the history of agents. I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, to get rid of Adrien. Instead you let him rail you, lose track of the mission the second he gets inside you. I had to make this deal with Thomas to cut my losses. Unacceptable.”

His voice rose, cold fury bleeding through the polished tone.

“You two are the worst sons any man could have. I was never in doubt delicate Sebastian was gay, but you, Bryson? One I could handle, but both of you? Who is going to continue the family name when you two are busy making sex tapes, running questionable companies, and both being cocksuckers?”

“Fuck you!” I spat.

Sebastian’s voice cracked with anger beside me. “Yes, you bloody tyrant! Fuck you! We are our own people!”

Father’s face hardened. “Silence! I’ve had it! You two are a shitstain on my family name. I should have known — knocking up an aristocratic neurotic bitch, and a braindead model bimbo. Of course you two turned out this way!”

I lunged forward in the chair, trying to break free. But Father simply raised a hand. Two guards stepped in from the hallway, guns drawn and pointed at us.

“This ends here,” Father said coldly. “You two won’t go anywhere. I have ambitions — Ambassador now, Governor, maybe Senator, then President. And the party will not be very accepting of you two sodomites. It won’t do. Luckily I’m only fifty. I can still start new.”

The words hit me like ice water. The gene-editing brochures I’d seen in his office flashed through my mind — the clinics in Mexico, the notes about “legacy optimization.” It clicked.

“So what?” I said, voice shaking. “You’re just going to kill us?”

Father didn’t answer directly. He gestured to the guards. They moved fast, forcing both of us back into our chairs and securing fresh zip ties around our ankles and torsos.

“No, that would be unsavory,” he said. “The sea can take you. It would be tragic if there was an accident — a fuel vapor leak, perhaps. Good thing I made it off the yacht before it happened. How tragic. It’s going to give my next run a huge boost, however…”

Sebastian’s voice cracked. “You can’t do this. You can’t be serious — you can’t just—”

Bryson cut in desperately. “We’re your sons! You can’t—”

Father looked at us one last time, expression empty.

“Goodbye, boys. See you both in hell.”

He turned and walked out, the guards following close behind. The door clicked shut, leaving us alone.

For a long moment, neither Sebastian nor I spoke. The only noise was the low, steady hum of the yacht’s engines and the faint slap of water against the hull.

Then we heard it — the heavy thump of rotor blades starting up somewhere above us. A helicopter. It grew louder, then lifted off, the sound fading into the night.

Sebastian’s voice came out quiet and shaky. “That must have been his little brother.”

I nodded slowly, throat tight. “Yeah. Theo.”

The realization settled over me like cold water. All of it — the seduction, the lies, the way Adrien had looked at me on the yacht — it had been about protecting his little brother. Saving the only family he had left. I could feel the weight of it in my chest, heavy and complicated.

I would have done the same for Sebastian. In a heartbeat.

Without thinking, I shifted in the chair. The zip ties dug into my wrists, but I managed to reach out with my bound hands until my fingers brushed his. Sebastian didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his palm and gripped mine tightly, our hands locked together between the chairs.

“We might not have much time,” I said, voice rough. “If there’s going to be an explosion… it could happen any minute.”

Sebastian’s fingers squeezed harder. His hand was cold, trembling slightly. “I know.”

We sat there in silence for a few seconds, the yacht rocking gently beneath us. The fear was real now — sharp and heavy in my gut. But so was the strange, quiet warmth of his hand in mine.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For dragging you into all this. For not being a better brother.”

Sebastian let out a shaky breath. “You’re an idiot, Bryson. But you’re my idiot.” His voice cracked. “I love you, you know that? Even when you’re being a complete arse.”

A lump rose in my throat. I squeezed his hand back, hard.

“I love you too, Seb. Always have.”

We leaned toward each other as much as the zip ties allowed, shoulders pressing together in an awkward, desperate hug. His head rested against mine for a moment, and I could feel him shaking.

The engines continued their steady rumble. The sea stretched dark and endless outside the windows.

Any second now, it could all end.

And all we could do was hold on to each other and wait.