The Heir apparent

Four

Caelum’s breath hitched, and he let out a quiet cough. Rowan’s head snapped up, looking in his direction. For a heartbeat, the room held its breath. Then Rowan turned back, and Caelum slipped away, his footsteps barely making a sound. His heart pounded in his chest, had he been caught?

The first light of dawn crept through the cracked window of the boys’ quarters. Caelum lay awake on the narrow bed, his mind restless, the secret from last night felt like a heavy weight on his chest.

Suddenly, a loud knock banged on the door, jolting him upright. The voice that followed was cold and demanding.

“Caelum! Get up. You’re washing my Mercedes today. Don’t even think about stepping inside the car or touching the interior. Just the outside. Got it?”

There was no room for argument. Caelum grabbed his worn shoes and trudged outside the Dray mansion into the light rain.

His worn-out pajamas were soaked as he scrubbed Seraphine’s Mercedes. Nearby the old greenhouse with cracked glass and tangled vines loomed, like it knew his shame.

The job wasn’t just cleaning, it was a cruel reminder from Seraphine to show him his place. His hands, rough from six years in prison, held the sponge tightly. Soapy water dripped onto the cracked pavement below.

His mind was busy thinking about the waterfront project and the secret he had overheard. Rowan was planning to meet the Brandons next week to sell the contracts. It was a secret Caelum couldn’t use yet, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

A maid, her face blank and forgettable, approached with a bucket of cleaning supplies, her steps quick as if eager to escape the scene. “From Miss Morrow,” she muttered, setting the bucket down before hurrying back to the mansion.

Caelum dipped the sponge into the soapy water, his jaw tight, the rain mixed with the soapy water on his hands.

Footsteps clicked behind him. Seraphine’s voice broke through the sound of rain. She stood under a black umbrella held by a servant, keeping her dry and perfect. Her cream coat stayed spotless, and her eyes shone with cruelty.

Her heels pressed into the wet gravel as she walked closer, looking over the car like a queen checking a servant’s work.

“You missed a spot, soldier boy,” she said. “What’s wrong? Didn’t the army teach you how to clean properly?”

Caelum kept scrubbing, refusing to meet her gaze. “It taught me enough,” he said, his voice low, the words barely audible over the rain.

Her laugh was bitter, cutting through the damp air. “Enough to be my errand boy, maybe.” She leaned closer, her perfume cloying despite the rain. “You’re pathetic, Dray. Scrubbing my car like some hired dog, thinking you belong here.”

She grabbed the sponge from his hand, dunking it into the bucket with a splash. "Before he could move, she grabbed the back of his head, her nails pressing into his scalp and shoved his face into the soapy water.

The cold, acrid suds burned his eyes and nose, the bucket’s metal rim biting into his cheek. He gripped the edge, refusing to struggle, letting the humiliation wash over him like the rain. She held him there for a moment, her laugh ringing out, then released him, tossing the sponge onto the car’s hood. “That’s where you belong,” she spat, stepping back. “In the dirt. Don’t forget it.”

Caelum straightened, water streaming down his face, stinging his eyes. He wiped his mouth, tasting soap and iron, and met her gaze. “You done?” he asked, voice calm, though his fists clenched at his sides.

Seraphine’s smirk widened, but her eyes flickered with something—annoyance, perhaps, at his lack of reaction. “Not until you’re back in a cell where you belong,” she said, turning on her heel and striding toward the mansion, her umbrella bobbing like a dark crown.

Caelum went back to scrubbing the car, the sponge feeling heavy in his hand. He couldn’t stop thinking about the secret he had overheard. If Rowan sold the waterfront contracts, it could destroy the Dray family—and Caelum was the only one who knew.

He wanted to do something, to speak up, but he had no power and no one on his side. Still, staying quiet wasn’t an option.

As he worked, he saw Rowan standing near the old greenhouse. His suit was spotless, untouched by the rain, and the smirk on his face reminded Caelum too much of Seraphine’s.

“Enjoying your new job, brother?” Rowan called, leaning against the greenhouse frame, hands in his pockets. “You look right at home with a bucket.”

Caelum’s grip tightened on the sponge, Lucan’s words echoing in his head. He took a breath, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “What’s with the Brandons and the waterfront, Rowan? Planning something behind Father’s back?”

Rowan’s smirk froze, his eyes narrowing. For a heartbeat, he seemed stunned. Then he laughed, a low, mocking sound, and stepped closer, his polished shoes splashing in a puddle. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? Eavesdropping like a rat.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a hiss. “You’re nothing here, Caelum. Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll make sure you’re back in a cage before the week’s out.”

Caelum held his gaze, rain dripping from his jaw, but said nothing. Rowan’s words landed like a fist, reminding him how little power he had.

The future heir stood up straighter and brushed off his sleeve, even though there was nothing on it. “Clean the car properly,” he said, turning away. “And stay out of things you don’t understand.”

Caelum watched him go, the secret still heavy in his chest. He’d spoken out, a small defiance, but Rowan’s threat had crushed it flat. He was still a pawn, his every move watched, his every word weighed.

A knock came at Caelum’s door—sharp, impatient. Before he could answer, the door creaked open and Clarissa Morrow stepped in, her heels tapping against the floor like punctuation marks.

“Well, don’t just sit there,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Your engagement begins in a few hours. I’d suggest you look presentable, but I suppose miracles aren’t included in the arrangement.”

Caelum stared at the closed door, his hands clenched. An engagement, announced like a decree, arranged like a business deal. No room for a question, only obedience.

A few hours later, the Dray mansion’s grand hall looked completely different. It had been transformed into a stage for the engagement ceremony, lavish, controlled, and coldly perfect.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, shining brightly and filling the room with golden light. Heavy velvet curtains lined the walls, and the marble floor gleamed.

The long dinner table from earlier was gone. In its place were neat rows of chairs filled with family members and powerful allies. Most of their smiles looked fake, and their eyes said more than their smiles

A rich red carpet ran down the center of the hall, leading to a raised altar. At the top stood a golden arch decorated with white orchids.

Servants moved quietly between the guests, almost like shadows, carrying trays of champagne. The glasses sparkled under the lights, looking as expensive and flawless as the event itself.

Caelum stood at the altar’s edge, his damp shirt replaced with a borrowed suit that hung stiffly on his frame. The fabric itched, a reminder of his outsider status.

Seraphine stood beside him, resplendent in a silver gown that shimmered like liquid moonlight, her hair pinned with diamond clips. She didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the crowd, her posture regal but rigid.

Harry Dray stood before them, his broad shoulders filling a tailored tuxedo, his grey hair swept back. His voice boomed, commanding silence. “Tonight, we bind the Dray and Morrow families in a union that will shape Cindervale’s future. Caelum, our son, and Seraphine, our future, will forge a legacy of strength.”

Marianne Dray, in a sapphire gown, stood beside him, her pearls gleaming coldly. Her eyes flicked to Caelum, not with warmth but with expectation, as if he were a contract to be signed. “This engagement secures our bloodline,” she said, her voice smooth but sharp. “The Dray name endures through sacrifice.”

Clarissa Morrow rose from the front row, her crimson dress a stark contrast to the room’s gold and white. Her diamond necklace sparkled as she stepped forward, her smile deceptive.

“Seraphine is the Morrows’ pride,” she said, her voice dripping with false warmth. “But let us be clear: this union is a privilege Caelum does not deserve.” Her eyes locked on him, cold and unyielding. “He will prove his worth, or he will lose everything, again.”

The crowd whispered quietly, with some of the Dray cousins and Morrow supporters nodding in agreement. Caelum clenched his jaw, feeling Clarissa’s words hurt more than the soap water from before. Seraphine’s lips moved into a small smirk, but she didn’t say a word. She calmly took the platinum ring from Harry’s hand.

The officiant, a dour man in black, stepped forward, holding a velvet box with two rings. “Caelum Dray, Seraphine Morrow,” he intoned, “do you accept this bond, to unite your families and futures?”

Seraphine’s voice was clear, cutting. “I do.” Her eyes flicked to Caelum, daring him to falter.

Caelum’s throat felt dry. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, unblinking. His mind raced, thinking about the Brandons, Rowan’s smug threat, Seraphine’s cold cruelty, and Clarissa’s cruel words. He knew he was just a pawn in their game, but he wasn’t going to stay that way forever.

“I do,” he said, steadying his voice even though his heart was burning inside.

The officiant slid the rings onto their fingers. The cold metal pressed against Caelum’s skin. Seraphine’s ring sparkled, but to him, it was like a shackle hiding as a jewel.

The crowd clapped, but it sounded empty in the huge hall. Rowan, sitting near the front, raised his glass with a smirk, a silent promise that he was still in control.

Clarissa’s eyes stayed fixed on Caelum, her smile corny and hungry.

Marianne looked away, distant, as if Caelum was already forgotten.