Adrian straightened slowly, every muscle taut, the envelope still clutched in his hand.
He didn't turn immediately. His father's voice had that effect, a low, deliberate calm that carried more weight than a shout.
Edward Knight stepped into the room with unhurried grace, the faint glow of the hallway spilling around him.
He wore a robe of dark velvet, his glass of brandy still in hand, as though he'd been expecting this.
Adrian turned around slowly, sliding the envelope behind his back with casual precision, "Couldn't sleep, thought I'd revisit the prison sentence you tricked me into signing." He said evenly.
Edward's lips twitched, not a smile. "Ah! the contract wasn't in church, most men celebrate such unions as transactions."
Edward swirled his drink, the ice clinking softly. "Every marriage is a transaction. Love, my boy is a fairy tale. Legacy is the truth and I will not have mine squandered. You'd rather chase distractions than build a dynasty." Edward said to Adrian, choosing his words carefully.
Adrian's grip on the hidden envelope tightened.
His pulse drummed in his ears, but he masked it with a sneer. "Spare me the lecture. You don't care about legacy. You care about control."
For a second, Edward's gaze sharpened like a cold steel beneath the surface. Then, as quickly as it came, it softened into something almost paternal.
"Control," Edward said softly, "is what keeps an empire alive." He stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the desk. "You may hate me for it, but one day you'll understand."
Adrian held his father's stare, refusing to flinch. He slipped the envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket with the same fluid movement he once used to conceal poker winnings.
"Go to bed, Adrian," Edward said finally, his tone dismissive. "Tomorrow, you'll wake as what you've always been, a Knight and Knights don't lose sleep over ink on paper."
Adrian lingered, as though daring him to say more, but Edward turned away, settling into his chair with the air of a man who had already won.
Adrian left without another word, but the envelope's weight burned against his chest.
—
Selena lay awake in her room at the Gates villa, staring at the ornate ceiling. Sleep refused her, her thoughts restless, darting like moths toward flames.
Her mother had retired hours ago, humming with satisfaction, convinced that everything was secured.
To her, the contract was salvation. To Selena, it was shackles dressed in silk.
She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. The echoes of Adrian's earlier words haunted her: Not in the slightest.
A man who didn't trust his father. A man who looked at her as though he recognized her fear, because it mirrored his own.
Her gaze drifted toward the window. Beyond it, the estate was draped in shadow, the gardens silvered under moonlight.
Somewhere out there, Adrian was probably awake too. The thought unsettled her, though she couldn't explain why.
A creak outside her door jolted her. She froze to listen more clearly. Voices, low and hushed, filtered through the corridor.
¢
"…she doesn't know yet," a man said in a deep, smooth voice.
Her pulse quickened.... Edward Knight.
"She'll learn in time," he continued, his footsteps slow against the carpet. "When it's useful."
Selena pressed closer to the door, heart in her throat.
Another voice answered, her mother's. Gentle, but trembling. "Edward, she's my daughter. If she discovers….."
"She won't," Edward cut in sharply. "Not unless you tell her, which you definitely won't. That's if you care to keep what's left of your family's dignity."
Selena's hand clutched the door knob, her knuckles white. Discover what?
The voices faded as they moved down the hall, swallowed by distance. Selena stepped back, pressing a hand to her chest. Her mother? complicit? In what?.
She returned to bed, but the sheets felt like chains.
---
Adrian paced his room, the envelope still unopened on his desk. He'd placed it there like a bomb, unable to sleep with it so close yet unable to push it away.
His mind conjured possibilities. Was it another clause, another manipulation? Or something darker, something even Selena wasn't meant to know?
Every time he reached for it, his hand trembled with a rare uncertainty. He prided himself on control, on knowing his own limits.
But something about this, about her, was unraveling that control strand by strand.
Selena Hayes, the reluctant bride who trembled yet defied, who signed away her freedom with eyes that burned of unspoken rebellion.
He leaned close enough to feel her shiver. It wasn't just fear. There had been something else, something that lingered in the air between them like a dangerous current.
He thought of her lips parting in a breath she hadn't realized she held. Of how, for a fleeting second, he had nearly closed the distance, nearly pressed his mouth to her throat just to see how she would break beneath the weight of his restraint.
And the thought terrified him.
Because he had kissed countless women, held countless lovers. But never had hesitation felt like torture, never had proximity robbed him of his composure. She did, Somehow, she did.
Adrian sat, staring at the seal again. With one motion, he could tear it open. Find the truth. Expose whatever game his father was playing.
His fingers traced the wax, hesitated, then withdrew. Not tonight. Not yet.
Instead, he slid the envelope into a hidden drawer in his wardrobe. Secrets, he thought, had their own timing. And he intended to uncover this one when his father least expected it.
Across the estate, Selena rose from bed again, restless. She walked to the mirror, touching her reflection. Who was she becoming? A pawn. A wife on paper. A savior for her family's debts.
And yet… beneath all of that, a voice whispered: What if this contract is only the beginning? What if there's more?
Her eyes flicked to the door, to the corridor where Edward's voice still seemed to echo.
She had lived with her mother's secrets all her life. Now she wondered if they had only scratched the surface.
Tomorrow, she will face Adrian again. The thought made her chest tighten, not entirely with dread.
Something was shifting between them, something she didn't understand but couldn't stop.
And though she didn't know it yet, that shift would unravel everything.