Wickedly Yours

Part 42

Draco had never felt right about what was happening. The tension in the Malfoy family had been building for weeks—whispers behind closed doors, his father's cold, clipped tones whenever your name came up. Draco had been kept in the dark, as usual, but he wasn't an idiot.

He knew something was wrong. And now, standing in his father's New York apartment, he could feel that knot of unease growing tighter, threatening to choke him.

He had always felt a deep sense of responsibility toward you. Even though you were technically his cousin, not his sister, Draco had taken on the role of your protective older brother without hesitation.

He had watched you struggle, rebel, push against the boundaries set for you, and while he often disapproved of your actions, he had always believed it was his duty to look out for you. To protect you.

But when he found out what Lucius had done, everything changed.

Draco stood in the middle of the grand, high-ceilinged apartment, the Manhattan skyline twinkling through the massive windows, but the city's beauty was lost on him. His heart pounded with anger as he faced his father, who was seated calmly in one of the elegant leather armchairs, a drink in hand as though nothing unusual had occurred. But Draco wasn't fooled by Lucius's composure. There was something cold, something cruel, in the way his father had handled this.

"Where is she?" Draco demanded, his voice taut with barely contained fury. He stood rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. "What have you done to her?"

Lucius glanced up from his drink, his expression unreadable, as though Draco's outburst barely registered. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his pale fingers wrapped around the crystal with unnerving calm.

"Draco," Lucius said smoothly, his tone patronizing, "this is none of your concern."

"None of my concern?" Draco's voice rose, the anger bubbling up inside him like molten lava. He took a step forward, his grey eyes blazing. "She's my cousin—practically my sister—and you've sent her away like she's nothing. I want to know where she is!"

Lucius raised a brow, his calm exterior never faltering, though a flicker of annoyance passed through his cold eyes. "Beatrix needed help," he said, his voice still cool, measured. "She was spiraling out of control. What I did was for her own good."

Draco's chest tightened, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, the rage simmering just beneath the surface. "You call this helping her?" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. "You sent her away, locked her up in some facility without even telling me? Without even giving her a chance?"

Lucius's gaze darkened, his grip on the glass tightening ever so slightly. "She left me no choice, Draco," he said coldly. "You weren't here. You didn't see the state she was in."

"Because you kept me in the dark!" Draco shot back, his voice shaking with frustration. "You always do this! You act like you're the only one who knows what's best for everyone, but all you do is manipulate and control. You can't even be honest with your own family!"

Lucius's eyes narrowed, his calm veneer beginning to crack. "Watch your tone, Draco," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

But Draco wasn't backing down. Not this time. "No," he snarled, stepping even closer, the fury rolling off him in waves. "I won't watch my tone. You've done enough damage. You sent her away because you couldn't control her, because you're too much of a coward to deal with her yourself."

The words hung in the air, sharp and biting, and for a moment, the tension between them crackled like electricity. Lucius's face tightened, his jaw clenched, but he remained silent. Draco's chest heaved, his hands trembling with rage. He had always looked up to his father in a complicated, conflicted way, but now he saw him for what he truly was—cold, calculating, and heartless.