Rhys finally exhaled, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. The air between them felt sharp — one wrong word and the fragile thread between them might snap.
"So," he started slowly, his tone edged with sarcasm, "I'm guessing that whole 'hundred days' thing wasn't some cute challenge, was it?"
Seraphine's gaze flickered up for the first time, her expression unreadable. "It was never meant to be a game, Rhys."
He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Right. Because contracts, kidnappings, and dinner with your father just scream romance."
Her lips curved faintly — not quite a smile, but close. "You talk too much when you're nervous."
Rhys's voice dropped, quieter now, the edge melting into confusion. "Nervous? You think I'm nervous? I'm trying to figure out what the hell you and your father want from me. You don't just walk into someone's life, throw around words like marriage, and then act like it's nothing."
Seraphine didn't flinch. "It's not nothing," she said softly. "And it's not about you."
He stared at her, caught off guard. "Then what is it about?"
Seraphine's eyes hardened. "It's a contract," she said flatly. "Take it as one. Let the countdown begin."
Her voice dropped, colder now. "I'll show them who they've messed with."
Rhys blinked, confused all over again. "What are you—"
"Don't worry about anything," she interrupted, standing up smoothly. "Just play along, and you'll be safe."
Before he could respond, she turned and left — heels echoing against the marble floor, leaving behind nothing but questions.
Rhys sat there for a moment, the words replaying in his head.
A contract.
A countdown.
Safe from what?
He exhaled sharply. "This isn't some love story," he muttered to himself. "There's something going on — and I'm going to find out what."
He drove straight to the hospital, where his mother was admitted for a scheduled brain surgery. Despite everything she'd been through, Aurelia Marcellin still carried an aura of strength — elegant, composed, untouchable.
But tonight, as he entered the room, he saw something he rarely did — a quiet fragility beneath her calm smile. Her hair was tied back neatly, her expression soft, but her eyes still had that sharp gleam of the woman who once ruled empires from the shadows.
"Rhys," she said gently, her voice calm. "You look troubled. What have you gotten yourself into this time?"
"Why do you always worry about me?" Rhys said softly, trying to smile. "Look at yourself, Mum. Just… take care, alright?"
Before he could say more, Aurelia tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes softening. "Is it a girl?"
Rhys froze. She was his mother, after all — nothing escaped her.
He looked away, then back at her, unable to hide the faint hope flickering in his eyes.
"So you like her?" she asked, her voice light, teasing even.
Rhys gave a small, reluctant nod. "I… don't know. I'm confused. I don't even know her, not really."
Aurelia chuckled quietly, that familiar, comforting sound filling the room. "Then just treat her right, my boy. Don't think too much about the rest."
He huffed, trying to hide his smile. "Don't get any ideas yet. I've only known her for a few days — and she's crazy."
Aurelia raised a brow. "Crazy, hmm? Sounds interesting already."
He sighed and quickly changed the topic. "I'm not here to talk about her, Mum." His tone dropped, serious now. "Can you… not go back?"
She didn't respond immediately. Her silence said enough.
He continued, quieter this time. "Let's just live in peace. Please."
It was something he'd never said out loud — but he'd always wished for it.
Aurelia finally spoke, her tone calm, almost resigned. "I can't turn back, Rhys. You know that."
He did. And yet, it still hurt to hear.
With too many thoughts running through his mind, Rhys didn't argue. He just leaned against her, resting his head beside hers. She smiled faintly, brushing his hair with gentle fingers.
Somewhere between their unspoken words and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, Rhys drifted off to sleep — safe, for now, in the warmth that had always been home.
On the other side of the city, Seraphine stood by her window, the silver moonlight spilling across her pale skin — soft, serene, almost otherworldly. The quiet glow made her look like a portrait of calm, yet her eyes told another story.
She rested her hand against the glass, lost in thought. Am I doing him wrong? the question echoed in her mind.
But then she straightened slightly, jaw tightening. No. This is what's needed. I shouldn't think too much.
Seraphine Calder was a woman of her word. Every promise she made, every sentence she spoke — she weighed it carefully. Words had power, and she'd learned long ago that once spoken, they could never be taken back.
She had always been strong — or at least, that's what the world saw. Sharp, composed, and impossible to shake. But strength came at a cost.
Born into a family where power and control ruled more than love, Seraphine learned early how to navigate lies with grace. Her father, Lucien Calder, was a respected political representative — charming in public, ruthless in private. Her mother, Evelyn Calder, was a prominent lawyer known for her eloquence and unshakable presence in court.
And then there was her younger brother, Sean Calder, still in high school — innocent, oblivious to the heavy web their family was tangled in.
Seraphine glanced once more at the moon before pulling the curtains closed.
Her reflection disappeared in the dark glass, leaving only the faint whisper of her thoughts.
"He's not supposed to matter," she murmured to herself.
"But he does."
Seraphine shook her head sharply, forcing her thoughts to scatter. No more distractions.
She reminded herself why she started all this in the first place. "I need to use these hundred days carefully," she whispered under her breath. "Finish what I began."
For a fleeting second, a different thought crossed her mind — reckless, tempting. Or maybe… I should just run.
Her chest tightened. No, she told herself firmly. Running isn't an option. Not for me.
She walked into the bathroom, hoping the cool water would wash away the noise in her head. As the shower rained down, she closed her eyes, letting the warmth trace down her skin, carrying away the tension, the fear, the doubt.
The steam filled the room, blurring everything — just as her thoughts blurred between guilt and determination.
Should I just tell him? she wondered. Would he even understand?
But deep down, she already knew the answer.
She exhaled, steadying herself. No. Not yet.
Tomorrow would bring another round of the game — and this time, she'd be ready.