The heavy oak doors of the Thorne mansion swung open with a flourish that could only mean one thing: Arthur Thorne had arrived.
The patriarch of the family didn't visit; he invaded. Having been overseas during the hurried, quiet wedding, he had only seen photographs of the "timid mouse" his grandson had chosen. He was here to see if Seraphina was truly a Thorne wife or just a temporary fix.
Seraphina stood at the top of the grand staircase, her hand white-knuckled on the railing. The persistent nausea of the morning was back, made worse by the smell of the lilies Arthur had sent ahead.
"So, this is the one," Arthur's voice boomed, echoing through the foyer. He looked up, his sharp eyes dissecting her. "The girl who married my stubborn grandson while I was halfway across the world. Come down here, child."
Alexander emerged from his study, his face a mask of iron. He walked to the stairs, reaching out a hand for Seraphina. To anyone else, it looked like a romantic gesture. To Seraphina, it felt like a command.
"Don't look so terrified," Alexander murmured under his breath as she reached his side. Then, louder, for his grandfather's benefit: "Grandfather, you're early."
"I'm eighty, Alexander. I don't have time for punctuality," Arthur said, taking Seraphina's hand. He squeezed it, his eyes dropping to her midsection. "And it seems I arrived just in time. The servants tell me a physician was here this morning."
Alexander's grip on Seraphina's waist tightened, pulling her flush against his side. "We were going to tell you this weekend. Seraphina is six weeks along."
Arthur's face transformed, a genuine, booming laugh filling the hall. "A Thorne heir! Splendid. I missed the wedding, so I'll be staying for the week to see how my grandson treats the mother of his child."
He looked at them both, his eyes narrowing. "I've noticed you two are... quiet. Alexander, I hope you haven't been neglecting her. From this moment on, I want to see a real marriage, not just two people sharing a roof. I'll be watching."
The Master Suite: Midnight
The Master Suite had always been their shared territory, but for the last few weeks, it had been a silent one. They shared the same bed, but they stayed on their respective sides, an invisible wall of ice between them.
Tonight, however, the wall felt different. Arthur was in the guest suite just down the hall, and his presence was a heavy reminder that they had to look like they were in love.
Seraphina sat at the vanity, brushing her hair with trembling hands. Her stomach was in knots. Alexander was already in bed, propped up against the pillows with his laptop, but his eyes weren't on the screen. He was watching her in the mirror.
"You're pale again," he said, his voice dropping the "sweetheart" act he had used downstairs.
"I'm fine," she whispered, her voice robotic. "I'm just... tired."
"Arthur is no fool," Alexander said, closing his laptop and setting it aside. "He's going to be looking for every crack in our story. If he thinks we're distant, he'll stay a month instead of a week."
Seraphina climbed into her side of the bed, keeping as much space between them as possible. "I'll play my part, Mr. Thorne. I always do."
The "Mr. Thorne" made Alexander's jaw tighten. He reached out, his hand grasping her shoulder and pulling her toward the center of the mattress. "Stop calling me that in this room. If the maids or Arthur hear you through the door, the contract is over."
"Then what should I call you?" she asked, her eyes finally meeting his. The pain in them was so raw it made him pause. "You told me you don't care about the baby. You told me I was a transaction. Should I call you 'my love' while my heart is breaking?"
Alexander's expression shifted from anger to a dark, frustrated intensity. He didn't let go of her shoulder. Instead, he pulled her closer until her back was against his chest. It was the same position they had slept in for weeks, but tonight, his hold was tighter.
"The pregnancy doesn't change the facts, Seraphina," he murmured against her hair, his voice a low, warning vibration. "But as long as Arthur is here, you are mine. Completely. Do you understand?"
He moved his hand down, splaying it across her still-flat stomach. It was a gesture of possession, not affection, yet it sent a shiver through her.
"I understand," she whispered into the dark. "I'm just property to be guarded."
Alexander didn't deny it. But as she fell into an uneasy sleep, he didn't pull his hand away. He held her all night, his thumb tracing small, unconscious circles over her skin, his brow furrowed as if he were fighting a war against himself.