I Married a Vampire

Chapter 3 - Sense of Oblivious

I don’t know why I feel this way.

It’s as if something vital has been torn from me—something invisible but essential, a tether I didn’t realize I relied on until it was gone. Now I drift through each hour, unmoored. Lost in a sea of decisions I didn’t make.

And the worst part?

I can’t even find the words to explain why.

Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to face her.

Agatha.

I should stop calling her Suzy. Suzy was a friend—a girl with laughter in her eyes and sunlight in her voice. But Agatha? Agatha is a prophecy. She is duty, legacy, bloodline. She is everything I am not. Everything they demand. I am nobody.

Before I was his wife, I was his distraction.

Back then, I was simply Esmeralda Fray, a human girl scraping together an existence in a dying coastal town. I worked nights in a family-run clinic that treated people the larger hospitals had forgotten—mothers too poor to afford care, fishermen with salt-stung wounds, children with lungs full of soot. I stayed up most nights nursing strangers, not out of sainthood, but because helping them made the world feel less cruel. Less lonely.

I didn’t know monsters walked among us. Not yet.

Not until the night he walked in.

He didn’t look like a man who bled.

And yet there he was—tall, furious, and bleeding out on my clinic floor. Three deep gashes across his chest, and one through his ribs.

His eyes were strange—silver where pupils should be, old in a way that made me shiver.

In fact, he reminded me of someone.

Suzy.

Back in college, Suzy was the quiet girl who flinched at harsh lights and sudden sounds. She used to get nosebleeds for no reason, said she could hear things people weren’t supposed to hear. Everyone thought she was just fragile. Sensitive. Sickly.

But now I know the truth. That was never Suzy.

That was Agatha—the daughter of the Oracle. The girl hiding in plain sight.

I paced the length of our bedroom, again and again, wearing grooves on the floor with my indecision. My thoughts twisted around themselves, a thousand jagged fragments with no beginning and no end.

How do you tell your son—your only son—that his mother is being replaced?

That his future, once celebrated, is being torn from him behind velvet-draped walls?

That the title of heir will be stolen from his name before he’s even old enough to understand what it means?

The words wouldn’t come.

In desperation, I called Callie. Her voice had always been my anchor—but tonight, even her calmness felt like a cruel reminder of how little control I had left.

“Dear, Ciel is still a baby,” I murmured, clinging to the line like a lifeline.

“I know,” she said softly, but her tone was firm. "But we’ve already talked about this, Esme. You and Taylor both agreed. It’s either this… or you lose everything. Including your life.”

I knew she was right.

The arguments had already been heard. The pleading. The threats. The tears. None of it mattered anymore. The decision had been made.

By everyone except me.

The castle was buzzing with movement now. The walls themselves seemed to hum with tension as servants moved through the corridors, preparing for Agatha’s arrival.

She would be given quarters at the far end of the left wing—away from us. Away from me. As if distance could make this palatable. As if placing her on the opposite side of the castle would dull the blade.

I stood on the balcony and watched the servants bustle below—headmistresses, handmaids, kitchen runners—all moving in choreographed silence. They didn’t meet my eyes. They knew what was happening. Everyone did.

This was my castle. Every courtyard lady answered to me. Every carriage, every garden, every hallway had once felt like an extension of my will.

Ciel had his own entourage now—a headmistress who shadowed him like a warden, a knight who stood guard at every doorway, and attendants who bowed deeper to him than they ever had to me.

But none of them could help me now.

None of them could stop what was coming.

Not the staff.

Not Taylor.

Not even me.

For centuries, vampires like us have lived under strict hierarchies—bound by ancient laws, bloodlines, and traditions older than the stones beneath this castle.

And Agatha wasn’t just any vampire.

She was rare. A pureblood of such staggering lineage that the Vampire Council practically bowed at her feet. Of course, they’d favor her claim over mine. Of course, they’d want her to bear the next heir.

This morning, I’d stood before my staff—my own dwindling camp—trying to hold together what little control I had left.

“We will remain civil,” I told them firmly. “Our side will not initiate anything. Not unless absolutely necessary.”

Carla, one of my most loyal headmistresses, didn’t hesitate to speak the truth. “We’re at a disadvantage.”

“We are,” I admitted. “She carries the weight of her bloodline—and the future child they’re all waiting for.” I paused, then raised my chin. “But let me remind you of one thing: I am the wife.”

I said it like it was armor, sharp and unyielding. But deep inside, doubt curled like smoke around my heart.

Now, as the clock struck seven, I sat by the window, letting the cold breeze kiss my skin. Below, the castle grounds bustled with the invisible tension of a house preparing for a queen... but not me.

The door opened.

Taylor stepped in, looking as worn and hollow as I felt.

“Do I need to get used to not seeing my husband the whole day?” I asked, my tone clipped and colder than intended.

He sighed, brushing his hand through his hair. “No, honey. You know how busy I’ve been. I would’ve come sooner if I could.”

“Let your men handle it,” I snapped. “I don’t want to see you personally preparing her room. Because if I do, I might start to believe you actually enjoy this arrangement.”

He flinched at that. “Esme, please,” he said gently. “Trust me. This isn’t about curtains or furniture. I need to oversee it because I have to make sure her staff is loyal—to us. Not to the Council. Not to her.”

“Jayson can do that,” I shot back. “Your son needs you, Taylor. We need to explain what’s happening. Right now, everyone believes he’s the heir. He believes it.”

My voice cracked. “How are we supposed to tell him that he’s being replaced?”

Taylor stepped closer, eyes softening. “He’s too young to understand, Esme. He’s only three.”

“No, Taylor.” I shook my head, blinking back tears. “If we don’t tell him... the kids at daycare will. And they won’t say it with love. They’ll say it to hurt him. And he won’t understand why.”

A flicker of movement caught my eye.

At the door, a tiny figure stood—barefoot, holding his stuffed bat. Earl Ciel. His wide, curious eyes locked onto mine.

“Are you fighting?” he asked, his voice small, fragile.

“No, baby,” Taylor answered quickly, kneeling to his level. “We’re just talking.”

Ciel looked at me, confusion tightening his brows. “Then... why is Momma crying?”

Taylor’s smile faltered. “Because Mama missed Daddy today. But I’m here now. And I’ll make her happy again.”

Ciel beamed. “I want to make Momma happy too! Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Taylor hesitated, offering me a subtle shake of his head.

But Ciel turned those eyes on me—the eyes of the boy who made me fight every day just to stay standing.

I knelt and scooped him into my arms. “Of course, baby. Always.”

Taylor’s shoulders sank with a sigh, caught somewhere between defeat and amusement. I gave him a look that said, You lost this round.

And as for me, maybe I had lost a kingdom...

But not tonight.

Not this bed.

Not this moment with my son.

As I fluffed the pillows and pulled the covers back for the three of us, the war outside the bedroom faded for a little while.

For now, the rest of the world could wait.