The Flower bud

**Chapter 2—A Past Left Buried**

Just before dawn — that moment when time itself seems to stand still, when the whole world teeters on the edge of possibilities — the hoot of a snow owl woke me.

I knew it then.

Something bad was coming.

I dragged myself out of bed, wrapped my fingers around the velvet curtains, and yanked them aside. Snow. Thick and endless, blanketing the world in white silence. Trees bowed low, roofs disappeared under ivory weight, and the skies above looked like frozen milk.

Even the air seemed afraid to move.

I began tidying my room, like some part of me hoped cleaning the clutter would help quiet the storm inside me. Locked drawers, closed cabinets, swept floors. My hands moved, but my mind kept drifting — to the one memory I'd fought tooth and nail to forget.

Six years ago.

That night.

His betrayal.

My eyes landed on the ancient picture mounted above my desk — a knight clad in a full Milanese armor, dated around 1450. A gift from Mom when I turned ten. Most kids got dolls. I got dead men in plate mail.

Typical.

The day dragged on slowly. By the time the mansion's hall clock struck 2:30 PM, my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break something inside me. I heard the gates open — that low, mechanical hum followed by the hydraulic hiss of steel.

I rushed to the window.

Three cars slid through the snow-choked path — two Aegis V8s, their chassis gleaming under frost, and one Varkon Sentinel, military-grade, of course. A ridiculous level of protection for people who claimed we were "close friends."

I spotted Jackline first, exiting one of the Aegis V8s. Poised. Beautiful. She adjusted her fur-lined coat like she was posing for a magazine cover. The Krueger parents emerged next — Mrs. Krueger's blonde curls and perfume trailing like a spell, Mr. Krueger looming beside her like some royal gargoyle.

And then...

him.

Vince Marlowe Krueger.

He stepped out of the Varkon Sentinel like it had been crafted around him. No coat. Just a slim black turtleneck under a charcoal overcoat that swayed dramatically in the wind. His snow-dusted hair was shorter now — more refined — but still had that same silver streak above his right brow. A scar peeked just beneath it, half-hidden.

Our eyes met.

Only for a second.

I froze.

Then I moved.

I threw on a soft wool dress — sky blue, ankle-length, warm but unpretentious. I wasn't dressing to impress. I just didn't want to look like I'd been pacing my room in sweatpants and trauma all morning. The high collar helped. The tiny silver pin in my hair — the one his mother gave me when we were kids — was an act of war.

Right as I finished adjusting the sleeves, the knock came.

Tessa stood there, pale and visibly uncomfortable. "Miss... you're needed downstairs. In the hall. Your mother said so."

I followed her without a word.

---

The hall was a painting in motion — glittering lights, golden archways, a warm fire in the hearth. The Kruegers stood like centerpieces in the scene, their every move polished, purposeful.

Mrs. Krueger saw me first. She pulled me into a warm, suffocating hug, her narcissus perfume digging deep into my ribs. A scent that used to feel safe.

"She's grown into such a woman," she said, her voice thick with faux admiration. "So graceful."

I offered a smile that didn't touch my eyes.

Mr. Krueger followed with a bear hug. His cologne was sharp, earthy — aggressive, like everything about him. "Look at you. You've outshined the crown jewels, Lassiter."

They started with the questions — school, Japan, martial training, my return. I answered politely, like a good little princess, while my mind counted the distance between me and *him*.

He hadn't spoken.

He just stood there.

Vince.

Leaning casually against the marble column, arms folded, watching.

That same stupid smirk tugged at his lips — like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't shattered the world and walked away whistling.

---

Jackline rescued me.

We snuck into the kitchen where the staff had cleared space for some air — or gossip. She chattered on about fashion, politics, some upstart duchess dating a senator. I didn't listen. I couldn't.

I was watching her.

She looked older, yes — but still had that spark, that effortless elegance. Her caramel skin glowed against the creamy tones of her Montana suite. Her eyes, always too clever for their own good, flicked toward me suddenly.

"What?" she asked, laughing. "Are you just gonna stare at me all afternoon?"

I smirked. "You've gotten meaner."

"And you've gotten quieter," she replied gently. "But I know better than to ask why. Not yet."

We returned to the hall to find Mom and Dad putting on their coats. Mr. and Mrs. Krueger followed. Something about a diplomatic meeting that came up last-minute.

Convenient.

In minutes, the adults were gone.

Jackline and Ryan exchanged some private look, then vanished down one of the side halls. Probably to discuss some "royal security breach" or flirt where no one could see them.

And then...

I was alone.

With him.

---

We stood in silence, framed by the fire and the looming portraits of dead kings who probably never experienced heartbreak.

He moved first. Took a step toward me. Up close, he looked incredibly handsome and tall at that. If it was the old times he would have been making fun of him getting taller than me

I didn't flinch.

Didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

"You're getting to almost my height now," he said, casually. "That's not fair."

My eyes narrowed. "You're still a liar. That is fair."

His smirk faltered. For half a second, I saw the guilt flicker. Just a spark. Then it was gone.

"Still angry?" he asked.

"You're not worth that much energy."

His jaw clenched, just slightly. Good.

I turned my back to him and walked toward the far end of the hall, where the frost-glass windows looked out onto the courtyard. He followed. Of course he did.

"Lassie," he said.

The name hit like a bullet.

"Don't," I warned. "You lost the right to call me that a long time ago."

His voice dropped. "You never gave me a chance to explain."

I spun around, furious. "Explain? What part of what you did has an explanation? You lied. You used me. You let them—"

My throat closed.

The memory surged like ice water.

---

**Six Years Ago — Age 16**

Just past midnight, we were alone in the east garden of their mansion. He kissed me—soft, careful, and genuine. Then he pressed a strong drink into my hand claiming it was a token to our friendship. I didn't want it, but I drank anyway, caught between trust and fear.

As he leaned in and kissed me – soft, deliberate, and genuine – my heart fluttered with a mix of trust and fear. He steered me towards a secluded corner, his touch both comforting and possessive. I had tired to stop him but I just couldn't focus. I had been drugged. My body tingled with anticipation and uncertainty as his hands intertwined with mine, our bodies coming together in the garden's shadows. The sensations washed over me as we continued to explore each other, the garden's whispers the only witness to our intimate encounter.

By morning, everything had changed.

Guards burst into my room and dragged me away. He accused me taking advantage of him—of forcing too much wine on him and sexually assaulting

I had hoped for his family's intervention but because none of them was around. My story was worth not heard off. After all I was very wild back then so it wasn't far fetched.

Never for the fact that he almost ate my fruit. Yh. Almost had he not fallen asleep first on me

But the truth was hidden.

He was the one who made me drink.

He was the one who lied.

And because of him, I was nearly got banished. Nearly stripped of my crown.

---

---

Back in the present, he looked at me now — older, colder, remorse etched deep into his features.

I hated how close he was.

I hated that part of me still remembered how his heartbeat felt against mine.

I hated that I didn't walk away.

---

Silence.

The fire crackled behind us. Outside, the snow fell harder.

Then softly, dangerously, he said, "You still dream about me, don't you?"

I slapped him.

Not hard enough to bruise.

But hard enough to remember.

He didn't flinch.

He just smiled