Episode 9:Warning Signs.
1051 Words
Episode 9: Warning Signs.
The small, modest bungalow on the outskirts of the city smelled of chamomile tea and old paper—a stark contrast to the sterile, sprawling luxury of the Vance manor. Kaelen sat on the edge of a worn fabric sofa, his long legs cramped in the tight space, watching his Aunt Martha set down a tray of biscuits.
He had spent his afternoon off helping her clear out the gutters and fixing the squeaky front screen door. Ever since his family’s farm collapsed, Martha had been the anchor holding what was left of them together while his mother stayed at the clinic.
"You look tired, Kaelen," Martha said gently, adjusting her reading glasses as she sat opposite him. "Are the university lectures giving you a hard time?"
"No, the classes are fine," Kaelen replied, running a hand through his dark hair. "The biochemistry labs are actually exactly what I needed. It's just... balancing the course load with the evening maintenance at the estate is a lot of hours."
Martha looked at him, her gaze sharp and filled with maternal worry. She reached out, patting his calloused hand. "Arthur Vance is a powerful man. I am grateful every day that he is sponsoring your tuition, Kaelen. It is the miracle we prayed for. But powerful men are protective of what belongs to them."
Kaelen shifted slightly, his jaw tightening as he sensed where the conversation was heading. "I know how to handle myself around Mr. Vance, Aunt Martha."
Martha leaned forward, her expression turning incredibly serious. "I mean his daughter, Kaelen. Chloe's mother called me yesterday to gossip about some dinner party. Word travels fast. I know you're a handsome young man, and you're surrounded by wealthy, impressionable girls on that campus now. But I am advising you—do not have anything intimate or personal with his boss's daughter. If Arthur thinks you are taking advantage of his generosity or distracting his daughter, he will be furious. He could pull your sponsorship in a heartbeat, and we cannot afford to lose this chance."
Kaelen let out a short, dry, humorless laugh, leaning back against the sofa cushions. The image of Kira’s furious, emerald-dressed silhouette from the hallway flashed in his mind, followed quickly by her icy words from the campus quad.
"You don't have to worry about that, Aunt Martha," Kaelen said, his voice dropping into a flat, decisive rumble. "Kira is way too rude and spoiled for me to ever even consider looking at her that way. She thinks anyone who doesn't have a trust fund is beneath her notice. We stay completely out of each other's way."
Martha let out a visible sigh of relief. "Good. Keep your head down, get your degree, and remember why you are there."
An hour later, Kaelen was back behind the wheel of his patched-up truck, driving down the dark, winding roads leading back to the Vance estate. The headlights cut through the thick evening fog, but his aunt’s warnings kept echoing in his head. Do not have anything intimate. He could pull your sponsorship.
When he finally pulled into the gravel driveway of the manor, the house was mostly dark, save for the amber lights glowing from the second-floor terrace.
He parked by the staff quarters and walked toward the western greenhouse to do a final check on the temperature gauges before turning in for the night. The air was cool and crisp, the scent of damp earth filling his lungs.
As he approached the glass structure, he stopped.
Kira was sitting on a low stone bench just outside the greenhouse, a thick wool blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She was staring blankly at the dark horizon, her expression unusually quiet and melancholy. In the pale moonlight, she didn't look like the fierce, arrogant princess who had snapped at him in the courtyard. She just looked incredibly lonely.
Kaelen hesitated, his aunt's warning flashing in his mind like a bright red neon sign. Turn around. Walk away. She’s too rude anyway.
But before he could step back into the shadows, the gravel crunched beneath his boot.
Kira’s head whipped around. When she saw him standing there in his rugged work jacket, her guard instantly flew back up, her eyes narrowing in the dark.
"What are you doing lurking out here?" she demanded, her voice tight, though it lacked the venom she usually carried.
"I live here, remember?" Kaelen said smoothly, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked closer, stopping a safe six feet away. "Just checking the greenhouse heaters. What about you? Aren't you afraid a drop of night dew will ruin your perfect posture?"
Kira exhaled a sharp breath, turning her face back toward the dark gardens. "I just wanted some quiet. The house feels too big tonight."
Kaelen observed her for a long moment. He could have fired back another sarcastic remark. He could have walked away like he promised his aunt he would. But seeing the raw, hidden isolation she tried so hard to mask made him stay rooted to the spot.
"Your dad mentioned he was flying out for a three-day international summit," Kaelen murmured quietly.
"He’s always flying somewhere," Kira whispered, her grip tightening on the blanket. She looked up at him, her hazel-flecked eyes catching the moonlight. "Why are you still looking at me like that, Kaelen? I thought we agreed we were strangers."
"We are," Kaelen said, his voice dropping into a low, steady gravel. He took a deliberate step backward, enforcing the invisible boundary line between them. "Just making sure the boss's daughter hasn't frozen to death on my watch. Goodnight, Kira."
He turned and walked into the greenhouse, the glass door clicking shut between them. Inside the humid, warm structure, Kaelen leaned his hands against a wooden workbench, staring down at the soil. His chest felt heavy. She was rude, she was spoiled, and she was completely off-limits—but as he watched her shadow move away from the glass outside, Kaelen realized that keeping his distance was going to be the hardest job he’d ever taken .
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