Chapter 5
1771 Words
I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.
This man was Isabel’s father?
They looked nothing alike, yet somehow the same—like echoes of each other carved from different lives. The realization hit me so hard I forgot how to breathe. I froze where I stood, my back pressing into the kitchen counter. The cold stone dug into my spine, the sting sharp enough to distract me from the storm rising in my chest.
He was Isabel’s father.
Alderic, hearing his daughter’s voice, dragged his gaze over me once more before turning slowly, deliberately, as if time itself bent around him. The shift in him was immediate. The man who had looked at me with cold suspicion softened the moment he faced her. The smile that broke across his face nearly undid me, real, warm and devastatingly beautiful. It wasn’t the hard indifference he had given me earlier. This was different. This was love.
My chest tightened painfully. Something dark and unwelcome curled in my stomach, sharp and ugly and too close to jealousy. I swallowed hard, forcing the feeling down as I watched them.
Isabel jumped into his arms without hesitation. He caught her easily, strong arms closing around her like second nature. They laughed softly, foreheads touching before they pulled apart, still smiling at each other in a way that made my throat ache.
“Why did you come through the back door?” she asked.
“I do that sometimes,” he replied calmly. “Just to catch unwanted things lying around the house.”
He said it while looking directly at me.
The smile vanished. His green eyes darkened, sharp and assessing. My heart slammed violently against my ribs, my breath breaking into uneven pieces. I was the unwanted thing. I knew it the moment his gaze pinned me in place. The knowledge burned, anger flaring alongside a sting of hurt I hadn’t expected.
Isabel laughed, completely oblivious to the tension cracking the air between us.
“Anyway…” she said, leaving her father’s side to stand next to me. Her fingers wrapped around mine, squeezing gently. I forced a smile as she looked at me, warm and encouraging, while my eyes dropped to the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to face him again.
“This is the girl I told you about. Her name is Seraphina.”
She glanced at me. “Phina.”
Then she turned back to him. “This is my dad. Alderic—as you know.”
I lifted my head.
The look in his eyes nearly sent me stumbling straight into Isabel. My stomach fluttered traitorously, my throat went dry, and my heart refused to slow. There was something in his stare, dark, heavy and dangerous, that wrapped around my spine and pulled tight.
“N-nice to meet you, sir,” I managed. My voice sounded rough, thin, exposed. I hated it.
Alderic said nothing.
He just watched me.
Hands tucked into his pockets, he stood tall and immovable, filling the space like he owned the air itself. It felt like the room had shrunk around him. Around us. My lungs burned for oxygen.
“Dad?” Isabel prompted gently. “You’re supposed to say nice to meet you too. Be polite.”
He blinked once.
Slowly, he removed one hand from his pocket, curling it into a fist before dragging his knuckles through his greying beard. His gaze slid back to me, colder now, sharper—as if I were something he hadn’t decided whether to tolerate or remove.
When he finally spoke, it wasn’t to me.
“My fiancée and her children will be arriving in a few hours, princess,” he said calmly. “You and your friend should get dressed.”
That was it.
He turned and walked away.
The moment he left, it felt like air rushed back into my lungs. My knees trembled as the tension drained, leaving behind soreness from how long I’d locked my body in place.
Beside me, Isabel sighed.
“That man,” she muttered. “He never changes.” She turned to me, guilt flickering across her face. “I’m sorry, munchkin. I swear he isn’t always this rude.”
Just to me, I thought.
“It’s fine, Bee,” I said quietly. “He found me where I wasn’t supposed to be. I’m sure that’s why.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I squeezed her hand.
“Come on. You heard your father. We need to get dressed and prepare to be detectives.” I smiled, tight and forced.
She groaned. “Fine.”
We took a few steps before she stopped me again, worry creasing her forehead.
“I really hope you don’t change your mind because of him.”
My breath caught.
Change my mind?
Maybe I should. The way he had looked at me had been wrong, too intense, too heavy. My body still felt unsettled, buzzing in places I didn’t want to acknowledge. And beneath it all was something else: danger. The kind that doesn’t shout but waits.
I should leave.
But I wouldn’t.
“I won’t change my mind just because your father refused to acknowledge me,” I said softly. “I’m used to things like that.”
Her frown deepened.
“That’s not okay. You shouldn’t be used to rudeness or—”
I cut her off gently, patting her arm.
“If I wanted therapy, I’d ask for it, Bee. I’m fine. Now please, can we go change before your soon-to-be family arrives?”
She scoffed.
“Soon-to-be? Over my dead body. More like ex-family members.” Then she smiled at me. “But I’m really glad you’re here, munchkin. I promise you won’t regret it.”
I didn’t smile back.
Because I already was.
The next time we came down, the dining room was already full to the brim.
Food covered every surface of the long table—dishes of all kinds, colors, and smells I couldn’t even name. Plates layered with sauces that glistened under warm lights, bowls of bread still steaming, trays of roasted meat, delicate pastries arranged like art. Things I had only ever seen on television. Things I never thought I’d sit across from.
My mouth watered shamelessly. My stomach twisted and leapt in joy, loud enough that I was embarrassed it might be heard. Hunger did that to you, it made you forget pride.
The workers were everywhere at once, moving smoothly, quietly. Someone brought more chairs. Another laid out cutlery with precise care. Glasses clinked softly as they were placed just right. The room hummed with quiet urgency.
I stood at the top of the stairs, watching them, still reeling from everything that had happened downstairs earlier. From him. From the way my chest still felt tight when I remembered his eyes on me.
This was my life now, for the next few months, at least.
“Gosh, munchkin. Look at you.”
I turned at the sound of Isabel’s voice. A shy smile tugged at my lips despite myself.
She whistled softly, hands on her hips as she looked me over, and I returned the favor. She looked stunning, effortless and bold. She wore a black jean bodysuit that showed off her long, toned legs, and a black sequined singlet that clung to her like it had been made just for her. It held her chest firmly, almost daring gravity to try its luck.
I was dressed simpler, black skinny jeans that hugged my waist and legs, a white tank top, and my jean jacket pulled snug around me like armor.
“You clean up nice,” she cooed, brushing imaginary lint off my jacket. Then she frowned thoughtfully. “But I think this has to go.”
She reached for the jacket.
I stopped her instantly.
My heart jumped straight into my throat.
She paused, confused, studying my face.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “It’s like seventy degrees outside and you’re wearing a jacket.”
I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the fabric like it was a lifeline.
“I feel feverish, Bee,” I lied softly. “I’ll take it off when I feel better.”
She searched my face for a moment, then shrugged.
“Alright, weirdo. Your funeral.”
We went down together.
The doorbell rang just as we reached the bottom of the stairs.
One of the workers moved quickly to open it.
The woman who stepped inside carried herself like she knew she belonged wherever she stood. She was tall, elegant, her posture flawless. Her dark hair fell neatly over her shoulders, and her clothes screamed money without trying too hard. Beauty clung to her naturally, polished, practiced.
Beside her stood two young men, both tall, both handsome in the effortless way money and good genes allowed. They looked confident, relaxed, like they had grown up in rooms like this.
“Good evening,” the woman said smoothly, her smile practiced.
Isabel’s jaw tightened beside me.
Moments later, footsteps echoed from above.
Alderic came down the stairs.
My breath hitched before I could stop it.
He wore a fitted suit, dark, sharp and perfectly tailored. It molded to his broad shoulders and narrow waist like it had been sewn onto him. Authority rolled off him in waves. My tongue pressed unconsciously against my bottom lip, and I had to fight the urge to lick them.
Damn it.
As he reached the last step, he unbuttoned two buttons at his collar, casual and unthinking, exposing just enough skin to make my thighs press together on instinct.
Heat curled low in my stomach.
He took his seat at the head of the table like it was his throne.
The woman sat beside him, close enough to matter. Her sons followed, sitting beside her.
Isabel and I took our places across from them—Isabel close to her father, me beside her.
Alderic gestured slightly.
“This is Magdalene,” he said calmly.
Isabel smiled sweetly. Too sweet.
“Ah,” she said. “So this is the woman brave enough to try marriage number… what was it again?”
The boys snorted. I bit my lip, failing to hide my smile.
Magdalene stiffened instantly. Her smile froze, eyes flashing as she turned to Alderic for support.
He didn’t look up.
His attention was on his phone, thumb scrolling lazily, expression unreadable.
The silence that followed was loud.
And I knew, right then, that this dinner was only the beginning of something far more dangerous than I was ready for.
- Writer
