The following day, the penthouse felt different. The air, once a stagnant pond of hostility, now had a current. Sera was gone before Kaelen woke, the note on the table a now-established ritual. This one was even simpler: *-S.*
Kaeden: ????? she shrugged
It was enough. Kaelen fetched Iris from school again, the interaction smoother this time. The children still gave her a wide berth, but their fear was now tinged with a grudging curiosity. Iris seemed to carry herself with a new, slight confidence.
But the gala loomed, a dark cloud on the horizon. The PR team's strategy documents arrived on Kaelen's data slate a meticulous, soul crushing script. Suggested talking points: "Our shared vision for the future." "The strength of our combined legacies." Suggested poses: "Hand-holding, but not interlocked fingers." "Protective arm around the waist, but not possessive."
It was a blueprint for a lie.
That evening, Sera returned late, her scent carrying the faint, sterile smell of a photoshoot studio. She looked exhausted but composed, the actress's mask firmly in place. She went straight to Iris's room, the soft murmur of their voices a sound Kaelen was starting to crave.
When Sera emerged, she didn't retreat to her room. She stood in the doorway of the living area, watching Kaelen who was pretending to review the gala documents.
"They sent you the script, I assume," Sera said, her voice flat.
Kaelen looked up, startled by the direct address. "Yes."
"And the dress. They've chosen a navy blue for me. To bring out my eyes, they said. To complement your Blackwood black." Her tone was devoid of any emotion. It was just a statement of fact.
"I saw," Kaelen said.
A silence stretched between them, filled with the unspoken dread of the performance to come.
"Iris seems… better," Kaelen ventured, grasping for neutral ground.
Sera's mask slipped for a fraction of a second, a genuine softness touching her eyes before it was gone. "She likes that you pick her up." The admission seemed pulled from her. "It makes her feel… normal."
The word hung in the air. Normal. The one thing none of them would ever be.
"The gala…" Kaelen started, then hesitated. "We don't have to… follow the script exactly. We can just… get through it."
Sera's gaze sharpened, the softness vanishing. "And give your father and the press a reason to scrutinize us even more? To punish us for a poor performance?" She shook her head, a bitter smile touching her lips. "No. We'll follow the script. We'll smile. We'll be the perfect, happy couple. It's what we're paid for, isn't it?"
Before Kaelen could respond, Sera turned and walked away, leaving her alone with the cold, precise instructions on her screen.
The next few days fell into a strange new rhythm. Kaelen went to work. She fetched Iris. She ate the breakfast Sera left. The metrics held steady: -70% and 30%. It was a stalemate of cautious coexistence, all of it threatened by the approaching gala.
The tension finally broke on the eve of the event. A large, black garment bag was delivered to the penthouse by a stiff-looking PR assistant. Sera took it to her room without a word.
An hour later, Kaelen's own outfit arrived a stark, impeccably tailored Kristian Silk Tuxedo Dress of black-on-black, its lapels a subtle, shimmering texture that caught the light like a raven's wing. It was armor.
As she was hanging it up, Sera's bedroom door opened.
She stood there, wearing the gown.
It was navy blue, as promised, but the description did it no justice. It was a masterpiece of minimalist design, the fabric draping over her form like liquid night, one shoulder bare, the other adorned with a subtle, silver clasp. It was modest yet devastatingly elegant, highlighting her slender neck and the graceful line of her collarbones. It made her look both powerful and heartbreakingly vulnerable.
She was staring at her own reflection in the dark glass of the window, her expression unreadable.
Kaelen's breath caught in her throat. The sight of her was a physical blow, stirring a confusing mix of awe, guilt, and that unwanted, persistent flicker of desire.
Sera must have sensed her presence. She didn't turn around, but her reflection in the window met Kaelen's gaze.
"It's just a costume," Sera said, her voice quiet, hollow. "For the performance." She finally turned, her eyes sweeping over Kaelen, taking in the tuxedo hanging behind her. "And that's yours."
She didn't wait for a response. She turned and went back into her room, closing the door softly, leaving Kaelen standing alone with two expensive costumes and the crushing weight of the lie they were about to tell the entire world.
The -70% approval rating felt like a mile away. Soon, they would have to pretend it was one hundred.