Third Person's POV.
A few hours later, Penelope arrived at the mansion, rushing in the front door after finally connecting with her father. She found Percy sitting alone in the dim, richly panelled upstairs hallway outside his parents' bedroom, his imposing frame slumped forward, his head heavy in his hands.
"Percy? What happened?" she whispered, sliding onto the floor beside him, the polished wood cool beneath her palms. "Dad just said she collapsed. Is it serious?"
Percy raised his head, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, guilt, and the lingering scent of disinfectant. "The doctor said it was due to extreme stress and dangerously high blood pressure. He thinks the collapse itself was going to happen sooner or later. She's resting now. Dad said she's been irritable, snapping over little things. Pen, this is all my fault."
Penelope immediately saw the hook sinking deep—the precise, devastating emotional façade their mother excelled at.
"Percy, don't," she stressed, her voice firm. "Don't do this to yourself. Mother is not a liar, but she is spectacularly manipulative. I'm scared that she collapsed, genuinely, but the timing is far too perfect to be accidental. She knows guilt is her only remaining weapon now that Uncle Phillip shut down her corporate interference."
"But what if I actually caused it?" Percy argued back, his voice raw with self-reproach. "I did threaten to erase myself from the family, Pen. That's a cruel thing to say to your own mother, no matter how controlling she is."
"It was a necessary thing to say to the woman who tried to ruin your life and our cousin's," Penelope countered, placing a comforting, steadying hand on his back. "Have you forgotten Gemini? I love her too, Percy, and I'm worried about her health. But don't let her guilt-trip you into abandoning everything you've fought for. You've held out this long; don't lose focus now that you're so close to real freedom."
Percy nodded slowly, absorbing her rational perspective, but the crushing weight of familial obligation remained heavy on his chest. He knew he couldn't stay here any longer without properly connecting with Gemini. Being unreachable after the climax of the past week was unacceptable. He stood up, walking toward a quiet part of the hall near the main staircase, and pulled out his phone.
Gemini answered instantly, his voice laced with sharp, undisguised worry.
"Percy! Are you okay? I've been calling your mobile and the office line. Where are you?"
"Hey, Bunny. I'm sorry, I should have called sooner," Percy said, lowering his voice, the sound of Gemini's worry immediately softening his tension. "I'm at the mansion. My mother collapsed this morning."
A moment of silence stretched across the line, thick with realization as Gemini processed the implications.
"Collapsed?" Gemini finally asked, his voice subdued and grave. "Is she... is she going to be okay?"
"The doctor said it was stress-induced, extremely high blood pressure. She needs rest," Percy explained, choosing his words carefully, omitting the manipulative context. "She's been sedated and is stable now. I'm staying here for a while, just until Dad and the doctor are absolutely sure she's out of danger."
Gemini absorbed the information, his initial panic about Percy's safety giving way to an understanding of the gravity and necessity of the situation. He knew this was a family crisis. Percy needed to put his family first right now.
"Okay," Gemini said, his voice surprisingly steady, projecting a calm he clearly didn't feel. "You need to be there, Percy. She's your mother, and her health is important. Don't worry about me, okay?"
"Thank you, Bunny," Percy breathed, a rush of profound gratitude washing over him. Gemini's understanding was a liferaft in the suffocating sea of guilt. "I should be able to come home tomorrow evening, once the nurses are established and she's confirmed stable. Take care of yourself, okay?"
"Will do," Gemini assured him instantly. "Just make sure you take care of yourself too. I'll be waiting. And Percy?"
"Yeah?"
"Try to get some sleep. I love you." Gemini added gently, the final phrase a warm promise of return.
"I love you too, Bunny, more than anything," Percy replied with a genuine smile, hanging up the phone.
He felt utterly torn in two: his body was trapped by guilt at the mansion, but his heart had instantly returned to the apartment with the one person who wasn't demanding anything from him but his presence.
Percy stayed at the Moore mansion, the confinement immediately chafing against his newly acquired freedom. The huge house, usually a symbol of monolithic power, now felt like a gilded cage built entirely of guilt.
He spent the evening and the following morning in a state of suspended animation. His father was physically present but utterly passive, moving through the house with the defeated air of a man long accustomed to his wife's dramatic episodes. Robert mostly stayed in his study, making hushed phone calls and leaving Percy and Penelope to manage the emotional core of the crisis.
"Your mother needs your presence, Percy," Robert murmured once, passing him in the hallway. "Just sit with her. That's all she wants right now."
"And the company, Dad? Who is running Moore Holdings while she's incapacitated?" Percy asked, the professional in him unable to ignore the corporate vacuum.
Robert simply shrugged wearily. "The executives are handling it. Just worry about her, son."
Percy understood then: his father was not only emotionally checked out but professionally dependent on Genevieve's competence. Robert was relieved that Percy was shouldering the emotional burden, thus validating his wife's use of guilt.
Percy divided his time between the library—where he secretly tried to manage essential Aethel Designs emails on his phone, feeling the pressure of being absent—and his mother's bedside.
Penelope came and went as she attended her seminars. Genevieve Sinclair Moore remained confined to her bed, receiving sporadic visits from a private nurse. She was weak, certainly, but her feigned fragility was a powerful, effective tool. Whenever Percy walked in, her pale hand would immediately stretch toward him.
"You're still here, son," she'd whisper, her voice thin. "You didn't leave me."
"I told you I wouldn't leave until you're stable, Mother," Percy would reply, maintaining a respectful distance and keeping his voice neutral.
The real tension resided in the silence. She wasn't ready to accept the independent, man he'd become. Instead, she used her health to hold him captive. Percy knew she was being manipulative; he knew she was no longer in physical danger, and he could walk out right now. But if he did, she would truly believe he had abandoned her in her time of dire need, and the repercussions—for his Dad, for Penelope, for the rest of the family—would be immense. This was the exhaustion of being trapped between two irreconcilable realities.
Later that afternoon, Penelope found Percy staring out the window overlooking the estate grounds, his expression tight with grinding internal conflict.
"She's fine, Percy," Penelope stated bluntly, handing him a fresh cup of strong coffee. "The nurse confirmed she's just resting now. She's stable. She's just enjoying the captive audience. You know how she works."
"It doesn't matter if I know, Pen. I still can't just leave," Percy said, running a tired hand through his hair, gripping the mug tightly. "She used the only weapon I can't fight: guilt. If I walk out now, this becomes her emotional ammunition for the rest of our lives. It validates her claim that I don't care about her or everything she's done for us."
"So, what's the plan? You can't manage the company from the library forever."
"The plan is to wait until Dr. Alistair gives the official all-clear for her to resume normal activity," Percy decided, his voice hardening with resolve. "I need a medical validation for my departure. I will not give her the emotional high ground this time. I'll stay, and the moment the doctor confirms her stability, and then I'll leave. And I will not come back unless I am physically forced to."
He pulled out his phone, a brief flash of yearning crossing his face as he looked at the screen. He needed to get back to the love of his life.
"I need to call Gemini," he told Penelope, his voice suddenly urgent. "I need to hear his voice, or I swear I'm going to punch a hole through this antique wall."