The morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of the Hammond estate, casting a soft glow over the grand dining table. The scent of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee hung in the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of the surrounding woods. Miley sat at the head of the table, her father at one end, and Julius beside her, his presence as silent and imposing as ever.Miley’s father, the patriarch of the Hammond family, began speaking in his deep, commanding voice, as he often did during family meals. His tone was calm, but there was an edge of something ancient in his words. "Our bloodline, Miley," he said, lifting his gaze to meet her eyes, "has always been intertwined with power. The Hammonds have long played a part in battles, strategy, and politics. Our family’s influence stretches back to the beginning of this land."Miley shifted in her seat, feeling the weight of the legacy she had tried to escape for so long. She glanced at Julius, who sat quietly beside her, his eyes dar

The ceremony began in the soft glow of late afternoon sunlight, its golden hue filtering through the high windows of the family’s chapel. Miley stood at the center of the room, surrounded by her family, her heart a knot of nerves and tension. She was dressed in vibrant traditional clothes…silk and linen layered in rich hues of red and gold, with intricate embroidery and delicate beadwork that made her look more like a bride than she had ever been willing to admit. The weight of the fabrics, the centuries-old tradition woven into each thread, felt like a shackle she couldn’t break free from.Her gaze briefly flicked to Julius, standing beside her. His dark suit contrasted sharply with her vibrant outfit, but he looked no less out of place. His face was stoic as ever, his hands folded in front of him with the calm assurance that only Julius could carry. Yet, there was something in the way he glanced at her, something subtle in his posture that told her he wasn’t as unaffected as he

The estate lay quiet under the weight of night. Shadows stretched long across the stone pathways, and the wind rustled the trees with a whisper too soft to disturb sleep. But Miley could not sleep.She slipped out of the guest room with bare feet and a shawl draped over her shoulders, her steps light against the cool floor. The weight of the ceremony, the games, and the persistent web of lies clung to her chest, making it hard to breathe. She needed air. She needed space.Outside, the moon cast a pale glow over the estate. The silence was comforting, almost sacred. She moved along the gravel path, avoiding the creaky spots, past the old shed and into the open garden. The scent of earth and distant pine filled her lungs.Behind her, unseen but very much present, Julius followed.He had not meant to. But when he noticed her door open, the flicker of movement against the shadows, something in him stirred. So he slipped into the dark and kept his distance, following without a word. She w

The morning after the ceremony dawned quiet, golden light spilling across the hills and filtering through the gauzy curtains of the east wing. The estate, still echoing with the afterglow of celebration, felt like it had exhaled—its energy softer now, more hushed.Miley sat on the back steps with a cup of tea, her feet bare, her thoughts tangled. The ring on her finger caught the sunlight, flashing in ways she tried to ignore.Julius appeared without fanfare, carrying a wooden tray balanced with two bowls of oats, a sliced apple, and a tiny glass jar of honey. He did not speak, just lowered the tray beside her and sat down. His shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbow, and a faint smear of oil streaked one hand.“You made this?” she asked, tilting her head.“I reheated it,” he replied, unfazed. “did not want you skipping breakfast.”Her lips twitched at his matter-of-fact tone. They ate in a companionable silence, birds chirping in the distance, wind stirring the wildflowers along the s

Miley descended the staircase, stifling a yawn as the early morning light filtered through the windows. The house was still quiet, save for the soft hum of the breeze outside. She had expected to find the usual calm of the morning, but as her eyes adjusted, she froze in surprise. Julius was sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, looking completely at ease in the otherwise still house. His presence, so unexpectedly calm, contrasted sharply with his usual reserved nature. Miley blinked, unsure if she was still half asleep.“Julius,” Grandma called, a twinkle in her eyes. “Come help me with lunch. You can be the one to knead the dough.”Julius, clearly unprepared for the task, glanced at Miley, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged, the corners of her mouth twitching with suppressed laughter. He sighed, his usual stoic expression unshifting. “Alright.”He rolled up his sleeves and approached the kitchen counter. The flour, though, seemed to have a mind of its