The Father’s Warning

The morning after the kiss, Amara could barely look at herself in the mirror.

Her lips still tingled. Her heart still raced when she remembered the way Lucian had pressed against her, his breath hot, his kiss rough and desperate.

But his words echoed louder than anything else.

That kiss meant nothing.

She gripped the edge of the sink, forcing the tears back. She would not let him see her cry again.

By the time she stepped out of her room, she wore a calm face, though her chest was tight.

The mansion was quiet. The staff avoided her eyes as they moved through the halls. Amara wandered aimlessly, her footsteps leading her to a hallway she hadn’t explored before.

That’s when she heard voices.

Lucian’s voice—deep, steady, sharp as always.

And another. Older, colder.

She crept closer, her body pressed against the wall.

“Father,” Lucian was saying, his tone respectful but clipped.

Mr. Hale Sr. sighed, the sound heavy with disdain. “Lucian, I tolerated this little… arrangement of yours because I thought it would be temporary. But this girl…” His voice dripped with contempt. “She is beneath us. Do you understand what people are saying about you?”

Amara’s stomach twisted.

“She makes you look weak,” the old man continued. “Your wife should be an asset. A woman of status, breeding, power. Not some poor little nobody who barely knows how to hold herself at a dinner table.”

Lucian’s voice was low, unreadable. “It’s only for a year.”

“That’s already too long.”

There was silence, heavy and suffocating.

Then Mr. Hale Sr. spoke again, his words like knives. “End it now. Find someone suitable. That red-dressed girl—she still loves you. She would be a far better wife than the one you dragged in.”

Amara’s chest tightened so painfully she thought she might collapse.

Her nails dug into her palms as her throat burned. Every cruel word pierced her like glass.

She had known this marriage was a contract, nothing more. She had accepted his coldness, his arrogance, even his rejection. But hearing his father spit out the truth—that she was nothing, that she was shameful—shredded her last ounce of dignity.

Her eyes blurred with tears, but she forced herself to stay quiet, to keep listening.

Lucian didn’t answer right away.

Finally, his voice came, flat and hard. “I’ll handle it.”

Her heart cracked.

I’ll handle it.

That could only mean one thing—he was going to let her go.

Her vision swam. She pressed her fist to her mouth, desperate to keep from sobbing.

Footsteps moved. Chairs scraped.

Panic surged through her chest as she realized the meeting was ending.

Quickly, Amara stumbled back down the hall, her footsteps light, her heart hammering. She rounded the corner just as the door opened behind her.

Lucian stepped out, his tall figure filling the hall. He glanced up—and froze.

Their eyes met.

His dark gaze sharpened instantly, suspicion flashing across his face.

“Amara?” His voice was low, dangerous. “What are you doing here?”

She stood frozen, her lips trembling, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Caught.