The silence in the penthouse was a living thing, thick and heavy as velvet. The moment the door sighed shut, Sera swept Iris away to her room without a single glance in Kaelen's direction. The message was clear: the truce, however fragile and forced, was over. The dinner had been a disaster, and Valeria Ironwood's presence had poured ice water on whatever faint ember might have been smoldering.
Kaelen stood alone in the vast living room, the city's lights twinkling mockingly through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She replayed the evening in her head the shock on Sera's face when she'd mentioned the allergy, the way she'd instinctively fed Iris, the cold hostility she'd then been forced to project at Valeria. It was a jumbled mess of failure.
She expected the familiar, crushing weight of the -100% to be her only companion. But as her gaze drifted toward the hallway where Sera had disappeared, something in her vision flickered.
It was faint, almost like a glitch. The numbers were unstable, shifting.
Seraphina Vesper. Approximate Approval: -97%
Kaelen's breath hitched. She blinked, sure it was a trick of the light or her exhausted mind. But the numbers remained. Negative ninety-seven.
It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't even liking. It was a three-point shift from absolute, bottomless hatred to… something marginally less terrible. A crack in the fortress wall, so fine it was almost invisible. It was the shock of the allergy knowledge, the simple act of feeding her child, that had done it. Small, human things the original Kaelen was incapable of. Sera's hatred was so profound that even a moment of confusion was enough to cause a seismic shift.
Before she could even process this, another flicker. From Iris's room, the number glowed a little brighter.
Iris Vesper. Approximate Approval: 12%
Twelve percent. Trust was still a distant country, but she had a visa now. A stamped approval for continued diplomatic relations, earned with a stuffed sloth, a defended honor, and a piece of broccoli.
A hysterical laugh bubbled in Kaelen's throat, followed immediately by the sting of tears. The emotions were too vast and contradictory to hold. She had never been so happy to see a negative ninety-seven in her life.
She didn't move. She didn't want to do anything that might make the numbers plummet back down. She just stood there, in the dark, watching the two metrics that defined her new existence hover in the air, a tiny constellation of hope in her personal nightmare.
The following morning, the dynamics in the penthouse were different. The silence wasn't just hostile; it was… observant. Sera moved through the kitchen, making breakfast for herself and Iris, her movements precise and closed off. But Kaelen caught her glancing over once, twice, her gaze lingering not with pure hatred, but with a wary, perplexed curiosity.
Kaelen, for her part, said nothing. She made her own coffee, keeping her distance, hyper-aware of the precious -97%. She didn't try to help. She didn't try to speak. She just existed nearby, trying to be non-threatening.
It was Iris who broke the standoff. Dressed for school, her backpack adorned with her new keychains, she looked at Kaelen.
"Auntie Kae," she said, her voice small. "Will you be there later? For the parent-teacher conference? Mom said it's today."
Sera froze, a knife hovering over a strawberry. She hadn't told Kaelen. She'd had no intention of telling her.
Kaelen looked from Iris's hopeful face to Sera's rigid back. This was a test. A massive one.
"I…" Kaelen started, then stopped. She looked directly at Sera's back. "That's up to your mother," she said carefully, neutrally. "It's her decision."
Sera slowly turned around. Her eyes were unreadable. The -97% didn't waver. She was weighing the horror of being seen in public with Kaelen Blackwood against the simple, clear desire of her child. And she was weighing the confusing, new version of Kaelen against the monster she knew.
The silence stretched. Iris looked between them, her small face beginning to fall.
Finally, Sera spoke, her voice flat. "Be in the car at 3 PM. Don't be late." She turned back to the counter, effectively ending the conversation.
It wasn't an invitation. It was a command. A concession made through gritted teeth. But it was a concession nonetheless.
Kaelen just nodded, her heart pounding. "I'll be there."
As she left for work, the numbers remained steady in her mind: -97% and 12%. The fortress still stood, but the gate had creaked open, just a hair. And Kaelen had just been granted permission to step inside its shadow.