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ⁿᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ
𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 & 𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬
𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 , 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐫
The mansion had grown too quiet. Too heavy.
𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐚 could feel 𝐉𝐚𝐱’𝐬 storm brewing before she even saw him. He’d been gone all day, in and out of meetings, doors slamming, voices raised behind locked rooms. His crew came and went, all hard stares and low mutters, but Jax himself stayed an untouchable shadow.
She tried to keep Leo busy — crayons, storybooks, chasing him up and down the hall — but she could feel it coming. That sharp edge in the air whenever Jax was near, like a knife pressed against the skin of the house.
When it finally broke, it was over something small. Stupid, even. But small things are always the sparks.
It was dinner.
𝐋𝐞𝐨 had refused to eat the food the housekeeper left — some fancy dish Jax probably never even touched himself. He wanted something simple. Something familiar. Maya had rummaged through the pantry until she found a box of pasta, boiling water and stirring sauce while Leo perched on the counter, kicking his little feet.
That’s when Jax walked in.
He stopped dead, the air in the room dropping ten degrees. “What the hell is this?”
𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐚 looked over her shoulder, wooden spoon still in her hand. “𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫.”
“You don’t touch anything in this kitchen.” His tone was cold, final, like a law carved in stone. “Food is brought to you. You don’t cook. You don’t decide.”
Maya set the spoon down with a sharp clack. “He’s a toddler, Jax. He doesn’t want whatever—” she gestured at the untouched plate of expensive food on the table, “—this is. He wants normal food. Comfort food. You wouldn’t understand that, would you?”
His eyes narrowed. “𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭.”
But she couldn’t stop.
All the swallowed words, the quiet obedience, the fear — it spilled out like boiling water over a pot.
“No, I will start. Because I’m sick of it. Sick of being treated like a prisoner in this house, sick of being ordered around like I don’t know my own child. I carried him, Jax. I gave birth to him alone. I’ve kept him alive without your help for years. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t get to decide something as simple as what he eats.”
Jax’s jaw worked, muscles ticking. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand what danger you’re in every time you step out of line. I set rules for a reason. You follow them, or you end up dead. It’s that simple.”
𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐚’𝐬 heart pounded, but she stood her ground. “Maybe I’d rather die living free than raise my son in a golden cage.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
𝐉𝐚𝐱’𝐬 face was stone, but his eyes — his eyes burned. For a moment, she thought he might explode, break something, maybe even grab her arm the way he had with others in his world. Instead, he stepped forward, so close the heat of his body pressed against hers, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
“You don’t get it. I built these walls so nothing can touch you. So nothing can touch him. You think I’m cold? You think I don’t care?” His voice cracked just barely, a sliver of something raw slipping through. “If anything happened to that boy—” He stopped himself, dragging a hand over his face like he’d revealed too much.
Maya swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Then stop pretending you don’t feel anything. Stop hiding behind rules and walls and start acting like his father.”
𝐋𝐞𝐨 babbled from the counter, holding up a crayon like a peace offering. The moment shattered.
Jax looked at his son, then at Maya, then turned and walked out of the kitchen without another word. The door slammed, rattling the frame.
𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐚 stood frozen, spoon still clutched in her hand, tears burning her eyes. She’d won something — a crack, a reaction — but at what cost?
In the hallway, Jax leaned against the wall, fists pressed to his temples, breathing like a man on the edge. He hated her for challenging him. But worse, he hated himself for needing her words to be true.
The cage wasn’t just hers anymore. It was his. And the bars were starting to bend.
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