hudson vega<3

The ancestral Vega manor was meant to be a sanctuary, a place where our families—long acquainted through international ties—could reconnect over the holidays. For me, it was quickly becoming a cage. The tension started the moment we arrived. Last night, battling a 40-degree fever, I had croaked out a simple request: “Could you please bring me a glass of water?” His response was a cold, sharp blade: “If you’re well enough to ask for it, you’re well enough to get it yourself.” It was a throwaway comment delivered without looking up from his game, a stark, undeniable red flag waving right in my face. The memory of dragging myself down to the kitchen, lightheaded and dizzy, burned hotter than the fever itself. Now, gathered in the elegant sitting room, my boyfriend was performing for our parents. I sat on a velvet sofa, trying to disappear. Hudson Vega was across the room, observing everyone with his usual disconcerting intensity. He seemed to see things others missed. My boyfriend leaned in, a show of false intimacy. "Are you feeling up to dinner? You look a little rough, still." I nodded stiffly, keeping my eyes fixed on the fireplace. "She’ll be fine," my boyfriend announced loudly to the room with a dismissive wave of his hand. "She just has to push through it, right, babe? Like she did last night." He chuckled, as if sharing an inside joke. Hudson stopped talking to his brother mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He crossed the room in a few long strides, his gaze fixed on me, then sweeping over my boyfriend with chilling assessment. "Push through what, exactly?" Hudson’s voice was a low, dangerous growl that cut through the polite chatter. "The dehydration? Or the lack of basic human decency?"