Rich Radiant and Over Him (Alicia and Vincent) novel Chapter 364

Tyrone’s Home

Before heading inside, Tyrone lingered outside for a while, letting the evening breeze carry away the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes.

By the time he entered, Alicia Shelton was already fast asleep upstairs, curled around his pillow as if she couldn’t quite find comfort even in her dreams.

Tyrone showered quietly in the guest bathroom, careful not to make a sound, then tiptoed back to their bedroom. Gently, he slipped into bed, prying the pillow from Alicia’s grasp and replacing it with himself, letting her wrap her arms around him instead.

Alicia murmured softly, uneasy in her sleep, but instinctively nestled closer to Tyrone’s chest, drifting off again.

He exhaled in relief, afraid that even the slightest sound might wake her. But with her in his arms, she always slept more soundly. Only then did Tyrone allow himself to relax; he pulled her a little closer, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and finally let sleep overtake him.

Having a wife really was a wonderful thing.

…

While Tyrone slept peacefully that night, Vincent had no such luck.

No sooner had Vincent threatened Mayfield to keep his mouth shut than Mayfield went straight to Stephen and tattled.

That same night, Vincent was summoned back to the old family estate, forced to kneel in the study and await his punishment.

“Conspiring with outsiders to kidnap your own brother—Vincent, you’ve got some nerve!” Stephen roared, slamming his cane down hard across Vincent’s back.

Vincent stayed kneeling, fists clenched tight to keep himself from crying out.

Since childhood, Stephen’s idea of discipline had always been a beating, while Mayfield and the other illegitimate sons—kept away from the house and out of his immediate care—were compensated under the guise of “making up for lost time.”

How absurd.

If he’d had a choice, Vincent would have gladly traded places, growing up far from Stephen’s reach.

Yet in Stephen’s mind, raising Vincent himself was some kind of gift.

“Mayfield’s an idiot. He tried to have someone hit Tyrone with a car—Tyrone saw it coming a mile away! If we don’t find a way to appease him, the entire Lynch Corporation could go down with us!” Vincent’s voice trembled with fury.

Mayfield’s mother, Stephen’s longtime mistress who lived at the estate, chimed in as well. “Stephen, just because Vincent grew up under your roof doesn’t mean you can let him get away with trying to kill my son.”

Stephen’s face darkened, the blows raining down on Vincent’s back growing more relentless.

In the end, Vincent couldn’t hold out—he coughed up blood, wiping his mouth shakily, his whole body wracked with tremors.

But the pain only solidified his resolve: he needed to work with Tyrone, no matter what.

Stephen and Mayfield were fools, through and through.

“Reflect on your actions! And don’t you dare get up until I say so,” Stephen growled, throwing the cane aside before storming out.

Vincent gave a bitter, twisted smile. The same old story, every time…

Ever since he was a child, if he ever did something Stephen didn’t like, there was always the same punishment: a beating, kneeling until sunrise, and no one to stand up for him.