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Training Room – Late Morning
These days, Raya's life seemed not to belong to her anymore.
Or maybe, all her life, she had been living for someone else.
First, she was out there with all the freedom she wanted — yet all she did was work tirelessly, just to pay her father's debts and put food on the table.
But was she happy then?
Now, she had no freedom, and she still had to live for somebody else.
She didn't just have to live for her father this time, but for her best friend — Anna.
The one who had been there when she needed her most.
When would this circle end?
Would it ever end?
Would a day come when she could live for herself and not for somebody else?
But is it an easy task to perfect Seraphina in three days?
Even if it's hard, it's not impossible.
She had to do it — to become Seraphina Hart, just to save her father and Anna from Adrian's wrath.
The moment she stepped into the training room, she was no longer Raya Calder.
She didn't let herself be.
Her posture was fluid, confident. Her hands moved with purpose. Her smile was rehearsed but effortless. Her voice hit every syllable in Seraphina's crisp cadence — not a note off.
Elena watched her with narrowed eyes, arms folded across her chest. She didn't interrupt as much today. Didn't scold. Didn't correct.
When Raya finished a full cycle of entrance, greeting, small talk, and mock charity responses without a single slip, Elena stepped forward with a slight nod.
"You're not Raya Calder anymore," she said simply. "You're Seraphina Hart now."
Raya didn't smile.
She just dipped her chin once in acknowledgment and walked to the next station — where the etiquette drills awaited.
Her heart thudded quietly beneath her ribs, a steady rhythm that whispered, three days.
She moved like the performance was already underway.
Because in her mind, it was.
Every second she was watched. Every breath judged. Every word weighed.
There was no room left for Raya.
Not anymore.
Not that she hated being Raya — even if her life was messy, it was still her life.
But she wasn't doing this for herself. She was doing it for Anna. She couldn't drag Anna into the mess her father caused.
Her father had beaten the drum, and if anyone had to dance to it, it should be her father… and her — because she was his daughter.
This was the life her father chose for her.
And if she wanted him and Anna to live,
she had to live it to perfection.
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Adrian sat behind his desk in one of their branch offices. It was quiet, the low hum of the city beyond the tall windows barely reaching him. Papers lay scattered across his desk — a mockery of the work he hadn't touched in hours.
He leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on his jaw while the other drummed absently against the leather armrest. Exhaustion tugged at his features, but his mind was too sharp, too alert for rest.
Then, his phone buzzed.
His gaze flicked toward the screen.
Alessia Romano.
Of course.
His thumb hovered over the answer icon for a second too long. He let it ring once… twice… before finally answering with deliberate calm.
"Persistent, aren't you?" he said, voice cool and unreadable.
"I prefer efficient," came her reply — smooth and lazy, like silk laced with poison.
It was always like this with her — honey-coated threats, wrapped in elegance.
He said nothing. Silence was sometimes louder than words with Alessia.
"So? Have you reconsidered my offer?"
There it was — direct, bold. Just like her.
His answer was immediate, the steel in his tone leaving no room for doubt.
"No."
He could almost hear her smile drop.
There was a pause. Not hesitation, but calculation — like she was rearranging her pieces on a chessboard.
"I see," she said, her voice still light, but now threaded with a cool edge. "Then let me be clear, Adrian. I offered you a throne beside me."
Adrian sat forward slowly, resting an elbow on the desk. His expression didn't change, but something in his eyes flickered — the ghost of a memory, the tug of a temptation he'd already shoved aside.
"And I turned it down."
"Which was foolish," she replied, a layer of ice building beneath each word. "Because I won't offer again."
"...I won't ask either," he replied almost immediately.
He could almost picture her then — reclined somewhere glamorous, wine glass in hand, a dangerous smile on her lips and a thousand schemes behind her eyes.
She was playing hard — harder than usual.
"Fine," she said, her voice dropping into something colder, heavier. "I'll choose someone else."
His grip around the phone tightened slightly, jaw clenching. Still, he remained silent.
"And whosoever I choose…" she continued, her voice slow and deliberate, "will become the king."
So she was serious.
Adrian's eyes narrowed slightly. She wanted to force his hand. She was daring him — challenging him.
You're brave, Alessia, he thought.
"You're getting bold, Alessia. Bold to try and corner me. Bold to think you can win," he said.
"I was born bold… I am different from your other women," she said with a playful smile on her lips — proud of herself, as she always was.
"And after I choose my king, you'll only watch from a distance — stuck in the shadows you chose for yourself."
Adrian exhaled slowly, as if shaking off the tension crawling up his spine. His voice was measured, low.
"Then choose wisely, Alessia. You're playing with fire… fire that doesn't just burn, but consumes."
For a second, nothing. Then a soft laugh from the other end — rich, mocking, almost tender in its condescension.
"Fire? That's my best toy to play with, Adrian… You'll see soon enough what you lost. And you will be filled with regret."
He stared at the dark window across the room, his reflection looking back with quiet, hardened intensity.
"And you'll see what I saved myself from," he said, his tone flat.
The line went dead.
Adrian slowly lowered the phone, the silence in the room now heavier — more loaded than before. He stared at the screen, his features unreadable.
He leaned back again, one hand resting behind his head, the other setting the phone down without looking.
He didn't regret his answer.
But her words played back in his mind like a ticking clock.
She wouldn't bluff. Not Alessia. Not the woman who built empires with secrets and scorched kingdoms for sport.
And if she was moving her next piece…
He had to be ready for the war that followed.
He needed a wife who listened — not one who commanded.
Not a wife who schemed against him behind his back, but a submissive one who knew when to speak and when not to.
And only Seraphina Hart would fit that position — not even that girl named Raya Calder, who questioned him every time or glared at every dissatisfaction.
Only Seraphina Hart — who he didn't even know where she was right now — could fit that position.
Everything would have been perfect if Seraphina hadn't gone missing.
Whosoever had taken Seraphina, he wouldn't spare that person… no matter who it was.