The Heir's obsession Chapter 16: The Weekend 1

Chapter 16

JULIAN POLE

"How are we supposed to plan this school trip without your father finding out? He’s a damn detective, Julian. What if he decides to snoop around?" my mum began, her tone already full of worry as she set the pan on the stove.

"Mum, no cussing," Rico said, his expression all serious, like he was suddenly the parent at the table.

Yeah, my friends slept over after my date with Jace. At this point, they practically live here. Their parents don’t even blink as long as they know they’re with , which probably says a lot about how chaotic their houses are.

"I can cuss whenever the hell I want. I’m an adult," my mum said, scrunching up her face, spatula in hand like a weapon.

"Mrs. Pole—no, Loretta," Rico started, leaning forward on the table, "you don’t wanna do that with . I’m an adult too."

"Yeah?" Mum raised a brow, one hand on her hip. "You wanna start a cussing party tonight and see who sleeps outside?"

"You don’t gotta play that card now," Rico shot back, matching her expression. "We’re grown. That trick is old and long gone."

"I’ve got the power to do what the hell I want. You forget that?" she challenged, flipping whatever she was cooking with unnecessary force.

"But you said no—"

"Excuse ," Luka finally interrupted, breathing out like he’d been holding it in for too long. "So of us are starving. Can we postpone the family therapy session until later? Thank you."

"You’re acting like you’re grown," Mum teased, smirking at him over her shoulder.

"I am grown," Luka said, dead serious.

See, my mother loves teasing him, but the mont we join in she goes, ’Stop teasing him, he’s just a baby.’ Classic double standard.

"Alright, alright, let’s not do this right now," I said, rubbing my temples. "This isn’t why we woke up two hours before our alarm clock."

"That’s what I’m saying," Mum replied, flipping the pancake—or olet? Honestly, I still had no clue what she was making. "Since your father is basically living at the station these days, we just need a plan that’ll convince him and keep him from sniffing around."

Luka blinked at her. "How do we even pay for a trip?"

"Enzo said he’d take care of that," I answered.

The room went quiet for a second—too quiet. Even the sound of sizzling on the pan seed to stop.

Rico was the first to speak, his voice flat. "Of course he did."

I rolled my eyes. "Don’t start."

"I’m just saying," he muttered, stabbing at his toast.

Mum looked between us, sensing the tension but pretending not to. "Well," she said finally, "if Enzo’s footing the bill, then I guess I can keep your father distracted. Just make sure this ’school trip’ sounds convincing. He’s smarter than all of us combined."

"Yea, I know," I said, leaning back in my chair. "That’s what scares ."

Mum smirked. "That’s what should."

When I went to see Enzo yesterday, I thought he was finally going to confess that he liked .

Spoiler: he didn’t.

The restaurant he chose was fancier than anything I’d ever stepped into, gold-trimd walls, dim lighting that made everyone look like they belonged on magazine covers, and waiters that didn’t seem to blink. Enzo was already there, sitting at the far end in a private corner like he owned the place. When he saw , he waved over, smiling like he’d been waiting hours.

"You made it," he said, grinning so wide it almost looked painful. I sat down across from him.

"Thought you were gonna forget about once you were on a date," he added, leaning back like he was testing .

I blinked. "How did you know I was on a date?"

"I know everything," he said, smiling in that way that made feel like he could see through my skull.

I didn’t like that.

He straightened the cutlery in front of him. "You wanna order anything?"

"No, I’m full." I probably sounded too stiff, because he tilted his head, watching like a puppy that just got scolded.

Seriously. What’s with the n around acting all soft when they’re full-grown adults?

I cleared my throat. "Do they serve cakes? Chocolate ones?"

His entire face lit up. "Yes. Do you want to order for you?"

"Yes."

He waved over the waiter and placed the order like he’d done it a thousand tis. When the waiter left, he turned his attention back to , eyes too focused.

"How was your date?" he asked.

I stared at him. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

He smirked. "No."

"Then what—?"

"Your painting," he said, interrupting smoothly.

I sat up straight imdiately. "What about it?"

"The Azure House isn’t displaying it anymore."

My stomach dropped. "What?"

Oh no, no, no—this can’t be happening.

I’ve co too far to stumble now. What went wrong?

They said they loved it. They said it was perfect, that it would be an honor to display it in their hall.

So why does it feel like the ground just shifted under ?

Why does it feel like everything I’ve worked for is slipping away right in front of ?

My chest tightens, and I can’t tell if it’s panic or disappointnt, or maybe both crashing into each other. I keep replaying Enzo’s words in my head—"They fell in love with your art." He said it so casually, so confidently. And now this?

Sothing’s wrong.

Sothing’s really, really wrong.