Bound by Honor

Chapter 15: Family Interference

The air had thickened with unspoken expectations, not just between him and Athena but between their families as well. Everywhere he turned, he felt their eyes on him, their judgments simmering just beneath the surface. It was like he had entered a glass house, every step echoing louder than the last, every whisper a potential crack in the fragile balance they had so carefully constructed.

His father had been the first to notice.

“Leandro,” his father’s voice came from the doorway of his studio one afternoon, thick with authority. “We need to talk.”

The tone was one Leandro knew all too well, the one that meant his father was about to lay down the law. He wiped his paintbrush on a rag and set it down, not bothering to look up.

“What’s this about?” Leandro asked, his voice low, detached. The studio was a sanctuary—messy, chaotic, filled with the scent of oils and turpentine—and he didn’t want anything, especially not his father’s well-intentioned but suffocating demands, to ruin the space.

His father’s presence loomed in the doorway, sharp and imposing, like an immovable wall. “It’s about Athena,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically careful, but Leandro could already sense the weight of his words. “I’ve noticed the way things have been between the two of you. It’s starting to look… too comfortable.”

Leandro’s fingers tightened on the rag, irritation flaring beneath the surface. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His father stepped closer, his eyes hard, unreadable. “It means I’m worried. The two of you—this ‘bond’ you’re forming—it’s not what we agreed upon. This marriage, this arrangement, it was supposed to be a means to an end. A strategic move. Not some romance.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “You’re getting distracted, Leandro. You’re losing focus. The business needs you. I need you.”

Leandro could feel the tension rising in his chest, the familiar urge to rebel gnawing at his insides. He clenched his jaw, staring at the floor, refusing to let his father see the anger flickering in his eyes.

“I’m not losing focus,” Leandro said flatly, his voice a tight wire stretched to its limit. “But if you think I’m going to turn my back on what’s happening between me and Athena, you’re wrong. This marriage—this thing—has never been about just business. Not for me.”

His father’s gaze hardened, his lips curling into a thin line. “It needs to be about business. You’re a Devereux, Leandro. You don’t get to live in some fantasy world, pretending that you can have it all. Not while the company is hanging by a thread. Your art is a hobby. It doesn’t pay the bills. I am the one who built this empire. And you—you need to pull your weight. Understand?”

Leandro’s heart pounded. His father’s words struck a chord, but there was an insidious bitterness that came with them. He was suffocating.

“Fine,” Leandro said, his voice a clipped whisper. “But you can’t dictate what I feel or who I care about. I’m not a machine.”

His father’s eyes darkened, a warning flashing in them, but he didn’t press the issue further. He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Leandro to simmer in his own anger, his thoughts swirling.

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The conversations with her family had been similarly charged, though not as direct. They were subtler in their attempts to intervene, hiding their disapproval behind polite smiles and loaded comments. Athena had always been the one to carry the weight of the Farnsworth family legacy, and the changes in her behavior—subtle, but undeniable—didn’t escape anyone’s notice. Her relationship with Leandro, while still tentative, had shifted in ways no one could ignore.