The sound of heels echoed through the marble halls of the Velmore estate like an approaching storm.
Caliste looked up from her book in the living room, sipping chamomile tea as soft jazz played in the background. Peaceful. Calm. Almost too calm.
Then came the shrill voice.
"Lucian! Darling!"
Caliste blinked. Who the hell?
The door burst open, and in walked a tall woman in a red bodycon dress, legs for days, lips painted like sin. She looked like she'd stepped straight out of a perfume commercial and into a soap opera.
Lucian followed behind her, expression unreadable. His hands were in his pockets, but his shoulders were tense.
Caliste stood. "Friend of yours?"
The woman turned with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You must be Caliste."
"I am. And you are?"
She extended her manicured hand. "Danica. Lucian's ex-fiancée."
Caliste raised a brow but didn't take the hand. "Oh. One of those."
Danica laughed, too loudly. "I can see why Lucian likes you. You've got spunk."
"I don't recall him mentioning a Danica," Caliste said sweetly.
"Oh, we go way back," Danica cooed, slipping her arm around Lucian's. "Before the whole arranged marriage thing, we were supposed to be the real deal."
Lucian cleared his throat and gently pulled his arm free. "Danica, what are you doing here?"
She pouted. "You weren't returning my calls. And when I heard you and Caliste were back under one roof… I had to see for myself."
Caliste crossed her arms. "And now that you've seen it, will you be on your way?"
Danica smirked. "Are you always this charming, or is it just for me?"
Lucian stepped between them. "Danica, I think it's time you left."
Danica clutched his arm again. "You can't be serious. You and I—we were fire. This little truce marriage thing isn't real, right?"
Caliste's expression darkened. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Danica said. "You two haven't even shared a bed since the wedding. Everyone knows it was for the families. You can't possibly think this"—she waved between them—"is love."
Lucian's voice was low. "Danica. Enough."
But Caliste stepped forward before he could say more.
"You're right. It wasn't love. It was duty. And I was fine with that. Until now." She looked at Lucian. "Until he started trying."
Danica blinked. "Trying?"
"He listens. He shows up. And that's already more than what most men offer their wives."
Lucian looked at her, surprised but quiet.
"And as for sharing a bed," Caliste added with a wink, "well, we've started working on that."
Danica's face fell. "You're lying."
"Believe what you want," Caliste shrugged, then turned to Lucian. "Baby, are we still visiting the clinic tomorrow? Or should we practice at home?"
Lucian nearly choked. "Clinic. Definitely clinic."
Danica looked between them, stunned. "You're seriously—?"
Lucian stepped forward, cool and collected. "Danica, I cared about you once. But we're over. I wish you well, but this is my wife. Please respect that."
Danica's mouth opened, then closed. "Fine. But don't come crawling back when this act crumbles."
She turned and stormed out, her heels stabbing the marble like she wanted to murder the floor.
Silence followed.
Caliste let out a long sigh. "Well. That was fun."
Lucian looked at her, half amused, half impressed. "That was... unexpected."
She shrugged, returning to her tea. "I don't like being challenged before I finish my tea."
"You defended me," he said.
She looked at him. "You're mine. Even if I didn't choose it. No one gets to talk to you like that unless it's me."
He chuckled. "Good to know."
She paused. "You really loved her?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Once. But that ended a long time ago. She just didn't get the memo."
Caliste stirred her tea. "She's beautiful."
"You're more than that."
She blinked. "Wow. That was… nice."
"Don't get used to it," he smirked, walking away.
She stared after him, cheeks warm. Why did that feel better than it should've?
The car ride to the fertility clinic was quiet. Too quiet.
Lucian drove while Caliste fidgeted with the hem of her dress, occasionally sneaking glances at him.
"You don't have to look like you're going to the guillotine," Lucian muttered, eyes on the road.
"I'm not! I'm just…" She sighed. "This is so weird."
He glanced at her. "You suggested IVF."
"Yes. But I thought maybe with a surrogate. Me carrying the baby was… Plan B."
"And Plan A was never going to happen," Lucian said dryly.
Caliste turned to him, lips parting, cheeks flushing. "You know I'm a virgin."
Lucian gripped the wheel a little tighter.
"You've mentioned it," he said, voice low. "Loud and clear."
"I just—can't imagine doing it the traditional way with someone I don't love. Not like that."
"I never said we had to." He exhaled. "IVF is fine. You'll carry the child. That's the deal. We make this work—for our families."
She nodded slowly. "Right. Business deal."
But something in her chest pinched at the word.
They reached the clinic and were ushered into a sleek, overly white room. The doctor explained the process, smiled kindly, and asked far too many awkward questions.
"Have you ever been sexually active?" the doctor asked Caliste.
"No," she muttered, eyes glued to her lap.
Lucian looked out the window.
The doctor nodded. "In that case, we'll avoid using instruments that could damage the hymen. We'll take a different route for the egg retrieval and transfer."
Caliste's face burned. "T-Thank you."
After the consultation, they sat in the hallway waiting for some final paperwork.
Lucian leaned against the wall. "You looked like you wanted to melt into the floor."
"I did."
He gave a soft laugh. "You're brave, though. I didn't think you'd go through with it."
Caliste met his gaze. "Neither did I."
They held eye contact for a second too long before someone called out.
"Mr. Velmore?"
Lucian turned—and there she was. A tall, willowy woman in a sleek black dress, clipboard in hand and a smile that could sell sin.
"Sylvia," Lucian said, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"I manage a few portfolios for the clinic's private donors," she said, touching his arm lightly. "You never returned my last email."
"I've been busy," he said casually.
Sylvia's eyes flicked to Caliste and back. "I see."
Caliste stood and offered a polite smile. "Hi. I'm his wife."
Sylvia barely blinked. "Oh. That wife."
Caliste raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I just didn't expect to meet you… like this." Sylvia looked her over, lips curving in an almost-smile. "You're very… casual."
Lucian stepped in. "Sylvia, we're here on personal business."
"Oh, of course." She leaned closer to him. "But if you ever want to grab coffee, I'm still around."
She winked and walked away, leaving the scent of her perfume behind.
Caliste stared after her. "That woman has 'homewrecker' written in cursive."
Lucian chuckled. "She used to work for me. Nothing ever happened."
"She touched your arm."
"She touches everyone's arm."
"She smiled like she wanted to bite you."
He turned to her, amused. "Are you jealous?"
"No!" Caliste crossed her arms. "I just—don't like snakes in heels."
Lucian smirked. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere."
She looked away. "You better not."
He stared at her for a moment. "That sounded… almost like you care."
"I care about completing this deal successfully," she said with mock firmness.
But her heart said otherwise.
And later that night, alone in her room, she thought about how her pulse quickened when he defended her. About how his hand brushed hers at the clinic and how her body didn't recoil.
She thought about the word "wife." How strange and lovely it sounded when someone else said it.
Maybe this wasn't just about the heir.
Maybe, just maybe, she was falling into something she hadn't planned for.