KEY TO HAPPINESS:(My mute devil)-Chapter 87

When Nix descended the stairs, Liam felt it before he saw him. The room’s air seemed to tighten, and every hair on his arms prickled. Nix still wore that deadpan expression, the one that made men reconsider their life choices. Before Liam could find his voice, two other men crossed from the far side of the dining room and took seats opposite Nix and Luna, their movements casual but deliberate.

"Seems we have a guest," Xavier said with a nearly invisible smirk, his eyes narrowing as they found Liam.

"You’re Elisa’s brother, aren’t you? What are you doing here?" Tom asked bluntly, but Liam only managed a thin, nervous smile instead of an answer.

"Nobody forgets their manners," Nix said, his voice crisp and authoritative. The dining room fell completely silent; even the clatter of silverware paused as the maids, sensing the charge in the air, moved quietly to serve.

"So, Liam," Nix continued, leaning back in his chair as he toyed with his napkin, "I heard you want to be a house husband. Let me save you some time and tell you to scrap that plan." His tone was casual but sharp. "I will never let my sister marry a man with no financial security."

Liam’s hand trembled as he reached for his cutlery; the knife slipped slightly in his palm. A fine sheen of sweat gathered at his palms and the back of his neck, making the silverware slick. He swallowed hard, eyes sweeping the table and landing on Luna, the only woman at the table then back to the men. The faces around him weren’t friendly,their gazes were sharp, the kind that measured and judged. He tried to read the room and realized, with a sinking feeling, it was because he’d dared show interest in their sister.

"You can say the Dean family is short on women," Nix said, keeping his gaze locked on Liam, "but the women we have we protect and respect them." His voice was low, but it carried like a verdict. "For example, if you make her cry, I won’t be the only one to deal with you." He lifted his chin, enumerating with surgical calm. "First would be her twin brother. He looks casual and stupid, but he’s precise with his fists. After that, you’ll have Tom. He’s got the sort of unpredictability that makes people keep their distance."

Tom’s jaw tightened. "Brother!" he snapped, glaring at Nix, but Nix didn’t flinch; he merely gave a small, almost indifferent shrug and returned his attention to his plate as if the warning had been nothing more than table talk.

The room stayed tense and quiet, the maids moving like shadows to replenish glasses and lay out dishes. Liam sat very still, the cocktail of embarrassment and fear rising in his chest. Every polite smile he tried to muster felt thin, and the cutlery in his sweaty hand felt suddenly heavier than it had any right to be.

"You may not have met my wife,your sister" Nix began evenly, resting his elbows on the table, "but you must have heard about her. And if you’ve truly heard the stories, then you know how crazy she was." He pointed casually toward Tom with his fork. "And him... he was her best friend not just any best friend, but the kind that supported every reckless decision she made, even the one that almost involved killing me."

"Nix, I thought we talked about this" Tom muttered, rubbing his temple, but Nix waved him off like a fly, as though the comment was nothing but background noise.

"You’re a bit special," Nix continued, turning his attention back to Liam, "because you’re the brother of my wife. So I’ll go easy on you."

Xavier let out a short, sarcastic laugh, breaking the silence like the crack of glass. "More like jumping from the frying pan into the fire," he said, smirking as he placed a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

Nix ignored him completely. His eyes stayed fixed on Liam, cold and analytical. "You’re still young, so I won’t expect much from you. Just answer one simple question." The clinking of cutlery died. The air thickened. "Except for your father’s wealth," Nix said slowly, "what is your net worth?"

The room fell so silent that even the ticking clock on the far wall sounded intrusive. Liam froze mid-breath, darting his gaze between the faces around him. Under the table, Luna nudged him lightly with her foot, hiding a small, knowing smile.

"Uh... actually, I don’t know," Liam finally admitted, scratching his neck. Tom burst into laughter, the sound deep and mocking.

"Do you even have a degree?" Nix asked, raising an eyebrow.

"About that.. I’ll be graduating next year," Liam stammered, forcing a nervous smile. Nix’s eyes narrowed slightly, and unreadable.

"And you think that’s enough to give her a secured future?" he asked, voice steady but sharp. Then, with a small sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "Look, I won’t be quick to judge. I’m sure you have potential. So I’ll give you two years to prove yourself worthy of my sister."

The words came without warmth. His face a mask that showed no flicker of emotion, no trace of empathy, just a cold, polished exterior that spoke of a man who’d seen too much to care anymore.

"Nix, I don’t remember saying I was interested in him," Luna said, her tone dry.

"Are you ever interested in anyone?" Xavier interjected before Nix could respond. "At least he’s willing to stick with you despite your deranged mental health." His smirk widened when Luna shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

"Sorry to say," Liam blurted without thinking, "but is every member of the Dean family mentally challenged or something?" The words were out before he could catch them. Every head at the table turned toward him. The air grew heavier. Liam’s voice faltered, turning softer, almost pleading. "I.. I mean, you just... keep mentioning being unstable..."

"If the interview session is over," Xavier drawled, breaking the silence, "can we eat peacefully now?"

No one replied. One by one, everyone returned to their plates. The clinking of forks and knives resumed, slow and cautious. Liam tried to do the same, but every bite felt like swallowing nails. He could feel eyes on him, though whenever he looked up, no one was actually staring. The tension sat thick in his throat until the last dish was cleared.

Eventually, they all began to leave the dining room Tom first and Xavier, chatting slowly as they disappeared down the hallway. Luna followed with a weary glance back at Liam. Within minutes, the room was empty, except for the two men, Nix sitting calmly with his phone, and Liam, unsure whether to stand, leave, or breathe.

The silence stretched until Nix spoke without looking up.

"Have you heard from your sister and her baby?"

Liam nodded quickly. "They’re fine." He forced a small smile, but guilt pressed hard on his chest, guilt for tearing apart a family, for separating a man from his wife and child. He looked down, ashamed.

"You.. " Liam started, finally glancing up.

"Don’t worry," Nix cut in, sensing what was coming. "I won’t mistake her for Carmela. I buried her with my own hands. This is reality, not a movie."

Nix smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Good?" he said, his voice quieter now, almost distant, before returning his gaze to the phone in his hand.

Liam hesitated. "You’re not going to ask me any questions?"

That earned the faintest smirk from Nix. "You’re a smart young man," he said, sliding his phone onto the table and folding his arms. "So let’s not beat around the bush. I’m not going to ask how Camillo happens to have you when no rumors ever mentioned your existence. I’m more interested in something else."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes darkening. "I’ve been searching for something. And your father seems to have it."

Liam’s throat went dry. He could feel sweat bead under his hairline despite the chill in the air. "Wh–what could that be?" he asked cautiously.

"One of Carmela’s paintings," Nix said evenly.

Liam let out a long, shaky sigh of relief until Nix continued.

"I lost it in a tragic situation," he said quietly, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm, "and when I went back for it, I was told your father has it in his possession."

"I doubt it’s true. I’ve never seen any paintings in the house," Liam protested, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Nix chuckled once again, low and humorless.

"You see, this is what I hate about your father," Nix said, the words spitting out like a wound. He set his jaw and his hand curled around the stem of his glass so tightly the knuckles whitened. "He skulks in the shadows, pretends everything’s fine, and never stands up for what matters. Carmela deserved someone who would have fought for her in the open not a man who buries truth and hides behind polite smiles."

He tapped the table with slow, deliberate patience. "Either way... I want the painting back." The sentence was simple, but the hatred behind it made the air between them colder. It wasn’t just about a canvas. It was about a promise, about a life that had been erased and the one thing tied to that life that Camillo had kept.

Liam blinked, scrambling mentally through possibilities of where the painting might be hidden a locked room, a private office, maybe a storage crate in the estate. He tried to sound helpful. "I’ll help you get it," he offered cautiously. "But the only time I can think of is when my father’s guards are a little... lax is New Year’s Eve."

Nix’s face shifted a slow refocus, the slightest tightening at the corners of his eyes. For a heartbeat his aura changed; the bored, measured gentleman folded away and something more dubious and dangerous slid into place. The room seemed to avert its breath.

"That’s eleven months from now," Nix said, impatient. "I can’t wait that long." His voice was flat, but the impatience hummed like a live wire beneath it.

"That’s the only time his guard’s down," Liam insisted, watching Nix for any sign of compromise.

A silence stretched. Then, before he could think, driven by fear, by adrenaline, by the desire to end whatever suffering lingered in this family Liam blurted, "Can we also kill him then?"

The words dropped like a bomb. For the first time in the night, Liam’s bravado cracked; he immediately paled at his own suggestion as the weight of what he’d said landed.

Nix’s eyes locked on him. For a moment there was nothing but a quiet, terrible assessment, the kind of look that measured the soul. Then he leaned back, an almost amused tilt at the corner of his mouth.

"Of course we can" he responded softly and dangerously controlled, as if testing the waters.