Sebastian Ashford's POV
"She invited him again," Kai mutters beside me, watching through the glass as Sky skips across the marble floors of the west hall.
I sip my espresso. "I know."
He's standing by the garden doors like he might need to throw himself between Day and death. Probably not wrong.
"She braided a daisy chain into his hair," Kai says, deadpan.
I set my cup down.
"...And painted his nails," he adds.
I raise a brow. "Did he let her?"
"He just sat there and took it."
A slow pause. I glance through the window.
There he is—Day.
Sitting stiff-backed on my white leather sofa like he doesn't belong in sunlight. His hands still bear traces of glitter. Sky's sitting beside him, all light and laughter, poking his cheek and babbling something that makes him blink too slowly.
He looks at her like she's gravity.
I see it. All of it.
The way he tries not to look too long.
The way he listens anyway.
The way her presence softens every razor edge of his face.
"He's in love with her," I say calmly.
Kai curses under his breath.
"She doesn't know it yet," I add, "but he does."
"She thinks he's just 'a misunderstood softie under his cold boy act.'" Kai mimics her in a high voice. "I don't trust that boy."
"He hasn't done anything," I remind him.
Kai scoffs. "He exists. That's enough."
I don't answer. Just watch Day shift awkwardly on the couch, tense as a sniper in a ballroom. When Sky shoves a forkful of cake into his mouth and grins like she's solved world hunger, he doesn't smile. But his eyes—yeah. That's where it is.
The beginning of the end.
A silent, inconvenient, slow-growing disaster of emotion.
"She's 16," I say.
"She's sunshine in a hurricane," Kai replies.
"I'll kill him if he hurts her."
"I'll dig the grave."
We stand in silence for a while, watching her braid flowers into his sleeve, her voice as warm as a fireplace and twice as bright. He lets her. Doesn't flinch. Doesn't stop her.
And I realize—
It's not just a crush.
Not something she'll outgrow.
It's something bigger.
Dangerous.
One day, that boy's going to try and ask me for my daughter.
And when he does?
He better be ready to prove he can survive my wrath.
Because if I see even one tear on her cheek because of him—
There won't be a second chance.