Investing In My Four Crippled Yandere Wives Get 1000x Returns
Chapter 8|The Golden Brother

Chapter 8: 8|The Golden Brother

They found Edward waiting by the parking garage, leaning against a car that cost more than the house in Hegeville, flanked by two party members who looked equal parts bored and used to this exact scene playing out. His armor gleamed under the fluorescent lights — polished gold trim over white plate, deliberately, obnoxiously flashy, the kind of gear built for livestream cameras rather than practical combat. His golden hair caught the light just as deliberately, lashes long enough to look almost unfair, sparkling eyes fixed on Allen with an expression somewhere between amusement and contempt.

"Well, well." Edward pushed off the car, strolling forward with the easy, practiced confidence of a man who had never once doubted his own place at the top of a room. "The family failure, back in the building. And with an entourage, no less." His gaze flicked over the four women, lingering just a beat too long, just deliberately enough to be insulting. "Didn’t realize charity cases came in matching sets."

"Edward," Allen said flatly, refusing to give him the reaction he was clearly fishing for.

"Oh, so you do remember my name. I was starting to wonder, given how thoroughly you avoided speaking to any of us at family functions." Edward’s smile widened, sharp and performative. "Though I suppose it makes sense. Hard to hold a conversation when you’re too busy being an embarrassment."

Irene stepped forward, jaw tight, but Allen raised a hand slightly, and — surprisingly — she stopped, though the look she shot Edward could have melted steel on its own.

"You came all the way down here just to insult me?" Allen asked, voice even. "Must be a slow week for you."

Edward’s smile flickered, just slightly, before smoothing back over. "I came down here because word travels fast, little brother. Word that the Veton reject somehow convinced the Association to reactivate four broken S-ranks under his own party banner." He laughed, short and sharp. "Fallen Crown. Cute name. Almost poetic, considering how far all five of you have fallen."

"Careful," Myria said, voice cold enough to frost the air between them. "You’re speaking about people who could still end your career with a single sentence to the right board members."

Edward’s gaze flicked to her, something calculating passing behind his eyes before the mocking smile returned. "Lady Myria. Still sharp-tongued, even from a wheelchair. Must be frustrating, all that talent trapped in a body that can’t back it up anymore."

Allen felt something in his chest go very still and very cold.

"Watch it," he said, quiet, dangerous in a way that made even Edward’s practiced smile falter for half a second.

"Or what?" Edward’s confidence snapped back into place almost immediately, arms crossing over his gleaming armor. "You’ll throw something at me? That’s your ability, isn’t it? I heard the evaluators nearly laughed you out of the chamber." He shook his head, golden hair catching the light. "Honestly, Allen, I don’t even hate you. Hate implies you’re worth the effort. What I feel is closer to secondhand embarrassment, watching you drag four legends down into whatever pathetic fantasy you’ve built for yourself in that dump you’re calling a house."

"Then don’t watch," Allen said simply.

Something flickered across Edward’s expression — not quite anger, but close, the mask of amused superiority cracking just slightly at the edges. "You always did have a mouth on you for someone with nothing behind it," he said, voice losing some of its playful edge. "Father should have cut you loose the day you awakened F-rank. Would’ve saved everyone the embarrassment of watching you play house with the Association’s biggest failures."

"That’s enough."

The voice that cut through the tension didn’t belong to Allen. Everlyn had stepped forward, notepad clutched tightly in one hand, the other raised — not threateningly, but firmly, placed flat against Edward’s chest, stopping him from advancing any further. Her emerald eyes, usually so soft and warm, had gone hard as stone.

Edward blinked, clearly caught off guard by the mute woman’s sudden, silent intervention. "Careful, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to overexert yourself."

Everlyn didn’t move. She held his gaze, unflinching, hand steady against his chest, and for a moment, something almost like uncertainty flickered across Edward’s smug expression — like he’d expected fear, or at least deference, and gotten neither.

Vivian’s voice cut through next, calm and level despite her blind eyes fixed somewhere just past his shoulder. "You should leave, Edward. Before this stops being a conversation."

"Is that a threat from the blind assassin?" Edward scoffed, though he took a half-step back regardless, some of his earlier confidence visibly cracking under four unified, unflinching stares and Allen’s own quiet, simmering anger. "Cute. All of you, standing here defending the family reject like he’s actually worth something." He straightened his armor, forcing his smile back into place, though it no longer quite reached his eyes. "Enjoy your little fantasy while it lasts, Allen. I give it a month before reality catches up to all of you."

He turned on his heel and strode back toward his car, party members trailing behind him, leaving nothing behind but the echo of expensive shoes against concrete and the faint, bitter taste of unfinished conflict.

Allen exhaled slowly once the car had pulled away, the tension in his shoulders only partially unwinding.

"You didn’t have to do that," he said quietly, glancing at Everlyn. "Any of you."

Everlyn shook her head firmly, pulling out her notepad and scribbling something quick before holding it up.

’You didn’t ask us to. We wanted to.’

Allen looked around at the four of them — Irene still glaring at the spot where Edward’s car had disappeared, Myria’s expression carefully composed but her knuckles white where they gripped the arms of her wheelchair, Vivian’s quiet, steady calm, Everlyn’s firm, unwavering stance — and felt something settle deep in his chest, warm and unfamiliar.

[Investment Detected: Milestone — "Witnessed dependents defending Host unprompted, strengthening mutual trust."]

[Sincerity: High. Emotional Impact: Very High.]

[Reward Generated: +150 Investment Points.]

[Multiplier Applied: x1 → Total Reward: 150 Investment Points.]

’They’re not just tolerating me anymore,’ Allen thought, watching Everlyn tuck her notepad away, watching Vivian’s shoulders slowly relax, watching Myria’s sharp eyes soften just slightly when they met his own. ’Something’s actually changing.’

"For what it’s worth," he said, breaking the silence, "thank you. All of you."

Irene finally turned back from glaring at the empty parking spot, grin creeping back onto her face despite the tension still lingering in the air. "Don’t get used to it," she said, though the warmth in her voice betrayed the teasing edge. "We just don’t like watching people talk down to our own property."

"Property," Allen repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Irene’s grin widened, sharp and fierce and entirely unrepentant. "You’re ours now, remember? Comes with the marriage contract."

Behind them, Myria made a small, quiet sound that might, under very specific lighting and generous interpretation, have been mistaken for a laugh.