His Rival's Desire

The silence was deafening. The drive felt endless, like time itself had decided to punish him. Hayden hadn’t said a word. And that silence was killing him. “Hayden… I can explain.” Shane’s voice cracked, betraying him. Nothing. Hayden’s gaze remained fixed on the tinted window. He wasn’t looking at anything—not really. Just staring through it, past it. Avoiding him. Even in the reflection, Shane could see it. That expression. Stoic. Cold. Familiar. Piercing brown eyes—just like his. Just like their father’s. But where Shane’s carried conflict, Hayden’s held nothing. No warmth. No hesitation. Just judgment. Shane fidgeted with his hands, picking at his nails until they thinned and stung. He didn’t stop. “I—” The words refused to come out. How had he it get this far? He couldn't believe he allowed himself get so carried away. Ilya Rozanov. The devil. Even thinking his name made something twist inside him—something sharp, something that refused to settle. Avoiding him wasn’t an option. Ilya’s company was Vergo’s biggest investor. Every stakeholders’ meeting had his presence stamped into it. Shane knew his schedule like a curse carved into his skin. Wednesday. Same room. Same suffocating air. Same man. Every controlled words of Ilya that will lingered like it used to. Every glance that stayed too long. Every presence… felt. Like a cold that sank too deep to shake off. And if their father found out—Shane’s stomach tightened. No. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to fix this. “Hayden, I—” “I thought you’d finally grown up.” The words cut clean. Hayden turned then, finally looking at him. And somehow, that was worse. “I didn’t know you were still the same disgusting child you were eight years ago.” Shane’s vision blurred. No, he wasn’t going to cry. Not here. Not in front of him. “I knew it,” Hayden continued, quieter now, but heavier. Like something rehearsed. Something inherited. He looked away then, like he always do before saying the word. “You’ll end up just like him.” The words echoed. Familiar. Irritatingly familiar. --- Taller than every Hollander son. Brighter too. Curly, unruly hair that made their father’s nose scrunch in quiet disgust. While they wore suits and polished shoes, he wore ripped jeans and scuffed sneakers like he didn’t belong—and didn’t care to. They called him the black sheep. But Shane didn't care. He would sneak into his room at the far end of the endless corridor. Sit cross-legged on the floor. Talk about everything he was too afraid to say out loud anywhere else. Even their mother, who was always too busy—seminars, interviews, cameras flashing her perfect smile into magazines and television screens. But Nicholas listened. Nicholas stayed. He knew everything about the band. About Ilya. Until one night… he didn’t come home. No warning. No explanation. Three nights passed. No one spoke about it. And then suddenly— A burial. An accident. No headlines. No reports. No sympathy. Like he had never existed. --- “It’s pathetic.” Hayden’s voice dragged him back. “Too pathetic.” He lifted his chin slightly, a quiet tsk leaving his lips—pity laced with something far worse. Pity from his own brother. Shane’s chest tightened painfully. That name—Nicholas—wasn’t something Hayden had the right to touch. To stain with that tone. He was good. He was everything they weren’t. “Unlike you. Unlike Dad. Unlike this entire suffocating family.” But the words stayed trapped. Like always. “S-stop.” Shane’s throat tightened, voice unsteady despite his effort. He wouldn’t cry. He promised he wouldn’t. Hayden’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Stop the car.” It came out weak. Too weak. “Are you mad?” Hayden shot back, irritation flaring sharp. And that—that irritating cold look. That was it. Something snapped. “I said stop the goddamn car!” The words tore out of him, louder than he intended. Raw. Breaking. The driver hesitated, then the car slowed. And for the first time since they left— Hayden actually looked at him. Not through him. At him. Shane’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his control hanging by a thread. Because this wasn’t just about Hayden. Or their father. Or even Nicholas. This—whatever this was—with Ilya… It was already out of control. And deep down, in a place he refused to name—Shane knew. He didn’t want it to stop.