I stilled instantly.
My entire body froze, like even breathing might expose me.
I didn't respond.
I was far too ashamed to.
It wasn't something Father would ever speak about to anyone. He would be too embarrassed, too obsessed with his image. That much, I was sure of.
So how did she know?
The question echoed loudly in my head as I stood there, my thoughts scrambling for answers that refused to come.
Her eyes didn't flinch, not even for a second.
She simply watched me, waiting for answers I knew i wouldn't give.
"I see that made you uncomfortable," she said softly.
Before I could react, she placed her hand gently on my arm.
The contact was light but it sent something strange through me. Not fear. Not exactly.
Something unfamiliar.
"It's not something I'd like to speak about," I said quickly, pulling my arm away, trying to regain whatever control I had left.
She sighed.
"It's getting late now… I need to head out." she said interrupting the tension.
For a moment, i said nothing.
Then she leaned forward and kissed my cheek softly.
I froze again.
She stepped back like it was the most normal thing in the world and walked away without another word.
I stood there for a few seconds longer, trying to process what had just happened.
She was either… strangely affectionate.
Or I simply wasn't used to being treated gently.
But whatever it was, i liked her.
At least a little..
She was kind.
Or at least, she seemed to be.
And for a moment, a dangerous thought crossed my mind.
Maybe… just maybe… Father marrying her would end my suffering.
From a distance, I watched her walk up to him.
Father's face changed instantly when he saw her. He grinned, his gap teeth showing as he leaned slightly toward her, like she was the only thing in his world that mattered.
Then his eyes flicked toward me, I could see the fury in them.
Then he turned away again and left with her.
I exhaled slowly and made my way back to the mansion hoping, just hoping that her presence might have softened him, even a little.
But I entered into chaos
"Father, this isn't fair!"
Layla's voice cut through the house as she stormed down the stairs, her anger filling every corner of the space.
"Am I supposed to call her Mom?" she snapped.
She threw her hands up in frustration, pacing aggressively.
"This is embarrassing, Father! If my friends find out, I'll be the laughing stock of my entire college!"
"You will learn to accept her, Layla… just like you learned to accept…" He paused, his gaze shifting slowly toward me. There was disgust in his eyes, but beneath it, something else lingered. Something that almost looked like grief. "…Marcella."
The sound of my mother's name struck me like a blade reopening an old wound. My throat tightened instantly.
I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. I knew i reminded him of her, I was a striking resemblance of her.
"I won't accept her, Father!" Layla shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of anger and betrayal.
She turned sharply and stormed toward the stairs, but not before throwing me one last venomous glare.
For a brief second, I thought I could escape unnoticed.
I took a small, careful step backward, hoping to slip away quietly.
"And where do you think you're going?"
Father's voice thundered across the room, freezing me in place.
Layla didn't look back. She ran upstairs without another word.
My heart pounded violently in my chest. Thinking quickly, I bent down and pretended to pick up a small pin from the floor. "I… I was just trying to pick this up," I murmured weakly, my voice barely audible.
"I am not done with you, Ivy," he growled.
Before I could react, his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of my clothing. He dragged me forward with brutal force, my feet barely keeping up as he pulled me through the mansion.
We moved past the polished halls, through the back doors, and out into the cold night air.
Dread tightened in my chest as I realized where we were going.
The cell.
It stood just beyond the garden, a small, isolated structure built of iron bars and stone. It was not just a prison.
It was a warning. A place reserved for vampires in our bloodline who dared to make mistakes.
Like me.
He shoved me inside without hesitation. I stumbled forward and fell hard onto the damp, earthen floor.
Before I could recover, the heavy door slammed shut behind me. The sharp metallic click of the lock echoed through the space like a final verdict.
"Please, Father!" I cried, scrambling to my feet and rushing to the bars. I gripped them tightly, shaking them with all the strength I had. "Let me out! I'm sorry—I swear I'm sorry!"
But he didn't even turn back.
He walked away, his figure disappearing into the darkness as if I no longer existed.
I could have broken the lock.
I knew that.
My strength as a vampire would have made it possible. But I didn't dare. Defying him again would only make everything worse. So instead, I sank slowly to the ground, curling into myself as quiet, broken apologies slipped from my lips into the empty silence.
He left me there.
For days.
No food.
No water.
No mercy.
With every passing hour, my body weakened. The cold seeped into my bones, and the hunger grew unbearable. It wasn't just hunger, it was something deeper, something darker. A craving that clawed at my insides.
Eventually, I gave in.
I lifted my wrist to my mouth and bit down, drinking my own blood in small, desperate sips just to stay alive. The taste was metallic and bitter, a cruel reminder of what I was.
From the floor of the cell, I could see the mansion in the distance. Its windows glowed warmly, filled with light and life, everything I had been cut off from.
At night, insects crawled across my skin. I felt every movement, every tiny intrusion. Somewhere beyond the garden, wild animals moved through the darkness, their eyes occasionally catching the light and glowing faintly as they watched.
I must have looked like a creature.
My once-blonde hair hung in tangled, filthy strands, matted with sweat and dirt. My clothes were torn and stained. My body felt fragile, hollow.
But worse than the hunger… was the shame.
Being seen naked with a man was already disgraceful.
But a human?
That was unforgivable.
In our world, reputation was everything. Bloodlines survived on power, control, and secrecy.
What I had done didn't just shame Father, it threatened his position within the clan. I had dragged his name through the dirt.
And now I was paying for it.
I lost track of time.
Hours bled into days. Days into something shapeless and endless. My skin grew pale, almost translucent. My strength faded with each passing moment. Even breathing began to feel like effort.
And then, one night, as I lay shivering against the bars, too weak to move, I heard footsteps.
Soft.
Measured.
Approaching.
I forced my eyes open.
It was her.
Seraphina.
She moved through the garden with quiet elegance, her hands resting gently over her stomach as though protecting something precious. Even from a distance, I could sense her—warm, human, alive.
Hope flickered faintly inside me.
This might be my only chance.
I tried to call out, but my voice failed me. Instead, I managed a weak whistle, my dry lips cracking painfully with the effort.
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned toward the sound.
When her eyes landed on me, she let out a sharp scream and stepped back, clearly startled. For a moment, it seemed like she might run.
I wouldn't have blamed her.
I probably looked like something less than human.
"Seraphina… please…" I whispered when she cautiously stepped closer. My voice was hoarse, barely more than breath. "Help me… I'm so hungry…"
She knelt down in front of the bars, her delicate fingers reaching through to gently brush the tangled hair away from my face. Her expression changed instantly. Shock. Horror. Pity.
She was seeing me clearly now.
"Get me the keys… please…" I begged, tears sliding down my face. "If I don't eat soon… I might die…"
She glanced around nervously, her brows furrowing. "Your father isn't here… and I don't even know where he keeps the keys…"
She stood as if to go search for them but then she stopped.
For a long moment, she simply looked at me.
Something shifted in her expression.
Something softer.
Then, slowly, she knelt down again.
Without a word, she leaned closer and tilted her head to the side. With one smooth motion, she pulled her hair away from her neck, exposing the delicate skin beneath where her pulse beat steadily.
The gesture stunned me.
It was so simple.
So selfless.
So dangerous.
Tears filled my eyes again.
This woman who owed me nothing was offering herself to save me.
"Feed from me," she whispered softly, her voice trembling with quiet courage.