The words came out harsher than intended, edged with violence meant for someone else entirely.
Pen’s hand stilled mid-motion.
She turned slowly, dark eyes lifting to mine—guarded, unreadable, carrying years of history compressed into a single look. For a moment, the air thickened, heavy with everything we refused to name.
Vanya’s head snapped up.
His eyes—too perceptive for a child—locked onto me with open accusation. “Why are you letting Miss Seraphina stay here?” His voice wobbled, cracking despite his effort to sound brave. “You promised it would just be us.”
“Vanya,” Penelope said gently, her hand settling on his shoulder in warning—not reproach, just care.
I lowered myself slightly, bringing us closer to eye level. “Your mother asked me to allow it,” I said calmly.
It wasn’t entirely true—but it wasn’t a lie either.
Vanya’s gaze flicked to Penelope, shock flashing across his small face. She didn’t correct me. Didn’t defend herself. She simply held his eyes, silently asking him to trust her.
Satisfied—for now—he pressed his lips together and looked away, wounded but obedient.
I straightened. “I’ll be waiting, Pen.”
I didn’t wait for her response. I stepped out, leaving mother and son to their moment.
I stepped out of the master bedroom, expecting nothing—then stopped short. Seraphina was there.
Seraphina stood just outside it, as if she had calculated the timing down to the second.
She’d shed the coat she wore earlier. The thin black singlet clung to her like a second skin, baring her shoulders, the subtle curve of her collarbone, the smooth plane of her lower stomach. Vulnerable. Intentional. A performance dressed as honesty.
The hallway light caught her just right.
I hated that I noticed.
“I believe you’ve already been shown your room,” I said coldly, not slowing my stride.
“Yes,” she replied, voice quieter than I expected. Not pleading—but not sharp either. “And it seems you still carry a heavy grudge against me. Twice now, you’ve tried to make me disappear.” A faint, wounded smile touched her lips. “You truly hate me that much.”
I stopped.
Exhaled slowly through my nose.
“It’s not about you, Seraphina,” I said. “You were never the center of this.”
She stepped closer, her presence an unwanted pressure. “You act as if I chose this,” she said. “As if I wasn’t promised a future. A name. A place beside you.”
My expression must have startled her, because she went still.
“I have loved one woman my entire life,” I said, voice low and lethal with truth. “Before power. Before blood. Before empires.” I took a step closer, not threatening—final. “And she is not you.”
Her breath caught.
“I’ll never love another,” I added quietly.
For the first time since she arrived, Seraphina had nothing to say.
Her head dipped, platinum hair sliding forward like a shield. For a heartbeat, she looked small. Vulnerable.
When she lifted her face again, her eyes shimmered—too bright, too careful. Whether it was real pain or a performance honed over years of watching men bend, I couldn’t tell.
