SERAThe room was quiet, dimly lit, with nothing but the sound of our breathing filling the space. I lay next to him, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. But my eyes kept drifting to him—to that tattoo-covered body lounging lazily against the headboard. My hand moved on its own, tracing my fingers over the ink—lines so intricate, so mesmerizing.My fingers stopped at the wolf howling at a full moon, beautifully etched across his chest, covering most of his left side and stretching to his shoulder. “A wolf,” I murmured, my voice softer than usual. “Like your name.”I tilted my head, looking at the wolf that seemed to be howling helplessly at the moon. “Why does it seem bound to the moon? Wolves are supposed to be free,” I asked, trying to understand.Damon looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read, something unspoken lingering in his eyes. “Because the moon isn't just light to him. It gives him strength, but is also his greatest weakness,” he replied softly.W
CALTurner sat in the driver’s seat, fiddling with his phone while waiting. I leaned back in the rear seat, gazing out the window and enjoying the crisp morning air.“Turner,” I called, breaking the silence as I glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror.“Yes, Mr. Cal?” he replied politely.“You’re pretty close with Damon, aren’t you?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.Turner turned slightly, then fixed his gaze back on the front. “You could say that. It’s nice having someone to talk to about spare parts and such.”I nodded thoughtfully. “Seems like he treats you nice. He talks to you more than he does with me or anyone
CALLos Angeles greeted us with typical early fall air, slightly warmer than in San Francisco. The blue sky was cloudless, and the leaves were beginning to turn yellow on some of the trees along the streets. Vehicles passed by without stopping, creating a chaotic harmony that felt typical of this big city.In front of the terminal, a young woman stood with a professional posture. Her shoulder-length brown hair was neatly styled, and she wore a chic yet understated business suit. It was Gia, Sera's secretary. Despite her youthful appearance, she exuded an aura of confidence that was hard to ignore.“Miss Sera, Mr. Cal.” Gia greeted us with a warm smile as we approached. “Welcome to Los Angeles. The car is ready.”Sera returned it with a faint smile that was more friendly than formal. “Thank you, Gia. Everything go well?”“Of course,” Gia replied as she signaled the driver to take our luggage.I watched their interaction. There was a familiarity there, something I rarely saw in professi
CALWe stepped into the main hall of Aspire Heights Kindergarten. The room was spacious and vibrant, its simplicity infused with warmth. Rows of tables were adorned with children’s crafts—colorful paper cutouts, small vases holding fresh flowers, and family names written in tiny, clumsy handwriting. The air carried the comforting scent of baked goods and coffee, a nostalgic contrast to the buzz of adult conversation.I walked beside Sera, one step behind her, keeping my stride relaxed yet purposeful. As per our earlier agreement—my suggestion, of course—I’d play the role of her personal bodyguard. Though hesitant at first, Sera had eventually agreed, considering that my status as Reggie's son was yet to be announced at an event like this.Sera, as usual, was the center of attention. Her appearance was stunning, dressed in a soft blue dress with a simple yet graceful cut. A calm and confident air emanated from her. Her eyes scanned the room quietly, occasionally nodding or smiling at t
SERAI smiled at the short message Beck sent me. It was a picture—a selfie of him in front of the newly renovated pavilion in the backyard. Underneath it, he wrote: missed you already.I typed back: We’ll see each other tomorrow afternoon.The bathroom door creaked open, and Cal stepped out, already dressed in a loose white shirt and tartan-patterned pajama pants. Our eyes met briefly before his gaze shifted to the sofa I was sitting on—now neatly prepared with a pillow and blanket.“I think I’ll sleep here. The couch is comfortable enough for me,” I said softly, avoiding Cal’s eyes.“Don’t be ridiculous, Sera.”I gave him a stubborn look. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Besides, it’s my fault for not making sure the extra room was booked.”Cal let out a long sigh, walking over to grab the pillow and blanket. “If you keep this up, it’ll feel like you’re the one uncomfortable. And if that’s the case, I’ll sleep on the couch, not you.”I snapped my head up, frowning. “That’s no
SERAComing home from work, I felt too tired to go straight into the house. Upon returning from LA this morning, long meetings and endless discussions immediately filled my head. Yet, as I pulled into the driveway, one calming thought stood out amidst the chaos: Beck.“The Brothers are all home, right?” I asked Turner.“They came back from their class around three this afternoon, Miss. I’m not sure if anyone has gone out again.”“All right,” I replied. The least I was sure of was that Beck couldn't have left. He must be in the pavilion, doing God knows what in his newly revamped art studio.After getting out of the car, I decided to bypass the main door and sneak into the back garden. The sky was starting to turn red, giving a beautiful golden hue around Beck's small pavilion.Back then, this pavilion in the back garden was like a building forgotten by time. The paint on the walls was faded, with tiny cracks running through it like a secret map. I could count on one hand the number of
BECKLiving at Blackwood Estate, I felt like a part of me was missing. I never touched a brush or scribbled a sketch, there was no spark of color burning on the canvas. Life here was too quiet, too controlled, making me feel like a bird that had lost its wings.But when Sera told me I could use this pavilion as my own personal art studio, hope flickered back to life. I spent my free time ever since doing a major renovation—with a little help from some of the super reliable house staff. And though she might not realize it, Sera gave me more than just this pavilion. She gave me hope, freedom, and a reason to live again.“I want to take a look around,” she said softly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, mixed with a little bit of challenge.I chuckled a little as I bowed my head—God, she’s something else. I kissed her lips quickly before lifting her off the table. She gave me a small smile, her cheeks flushed, then stepped away while gently shaking her hair back over her shoulder.She wa
CALI walked down the corridor after spending some time in the library, my steps light and steady. But I came to an abrupt halt when the sound of loud punches and shuffling feet echoed from the direction of the gym. That kind of noise was unusual in this house—especially in the gym, which was usually my private training space, occasionally shared with Damon or Ace. Curiosity tugged at me, drawing me to the gym door.As I opened it, I froze, my mind struggling to process the scene before me.Ace and Damon. Together. Practicing boxing.I stood there, rooted in the doorway, too stunned to move forward. Ace—his posture tall and commanding—threw a punch that came dangerously close to Damon’s protective headgear. Damon, focused in a way I rarely saw, dodged with precision before delivering a counterpunch that nearly grazed Ace’s shoulder. The heavy breaths they exchanged filled the room, mingling with the sharp sound of gloves colliding.No taunts. No anger. Just focus.Ace lifted his chin
SERAAfter Grant left, taking his ambitious ideas with him, I was about to refill my tea when I noticed something out the front window. Something mildly alarming. Or mildly hilarious. Or both.Ace was standing in the driveway—sleeves rolled up, jaw clenched, looking like a man on the brink of a very controlled meltdown. Beside him, Beck sat behind the wheel of a car that I’d known, since their arrival, would end up being Beck’s. And from the way Beck gripped the steering wheel like it was a giant paintbrush, I knew this was going to be entertaining.I stepped outside, leaning against the doorframe, secretly wondering how long Ace could last before losing it.“Brake’s on the left, Beckett,” Ace said flatly, the use of Beckett and that tone suggesting his patience was hanging by 12%.Beck nodded, fully committed—and promptly stomped on the pedal, launching the car forward like a wild horse out of its stable. Ace jumped to the side with a sharp curse. “That’s the gas, you idiot!”Beck p
SERAI was on my third email, fourth sip of cold coffee, and possibly my hundredth sigh when a knock landed on my door—soft, polite, but too familiar to ignore.Before I could say anything, the door creaked open just enough to let Cal’s head peek through.“Hey,” he said, a little grin on his face. I automatically stood up. "Cal? What are you—"“Tell me you haven’t eaten.”I blinked. “Is that a trick question?”He opened the door wider, revealing a brown paper bag in one hand. “Didn’t think so.”“You’re ridiculous.”“And you’re predictable.”He walked in, and the smell hit me before he even sat down: grilled chicken, something spicy. My stomach betrayed me with a growl.“God, that smells unfairly good,” kataku, menyusulnya duduk di sofa.He set the bag on the table, pulled out a container, then handed me a fork like this was some scheduled meeting on my calendar. “Eat first. You can hate me later.”I gave him a look. “I don’t hate you.”“Not even a little?”I tried not to smile. Faile
ACEI didn’t know who started it. But the second our lips met again, I stopped thinking.This kiss was deeper—bolder. Her breath hitched, and her body shifted a little in my lap, like she was trying to find a more comfortable position … or maybe something closer. Something more.I let out a quiet sigh as my fingers slipped under the collar of her pajama shirt, brushing against her warm skin. She tensed for a second, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached up, grabbed the back of my neck, and kissed me harder. Her lips demanding, her tongue tracing mine in a rhythm that made my thoughts go static.My sanity was almost gone.She moved again—arched her hips, sliding in closer. Her knees were braced beside my waist now, bodies aligned. Her chest pressed to mine, her stomach against me. I could feel her heartbeat, wild and uneven.My hand slipped under her shirt, finding the smooth line of her back. I traced her spine slowly, deliberately.And yeah—I’d been hard for a while now.She kne
ACEI set my alarm for 2:40. Three nights in a row. Not because I had insomnia. I just … needed to make sure of something.The first night, I just sat here. Nothing happened.The second night, I made chamomile tea. Still nothing.The third night—tonight—I sat on the old leather couch facing the door, turned on the dim reading lamp, and opened a book I wasn’t really reading. The tea I made was still steaming on the little side table next to me. Two cups. I didn’t even drink tea, but I kept putting it there. Some kind of ritual I made up for myself. The reading lamp cast a soft glow, lighting up a random stack of books I picked just to make it look like I was reading. And the door … I left it open. Just a crack. Just enough for someone walking by to see the light inside. Just enough to be a quiet invitation.Until I finally heard it—the bedroom door creaking open, then light footsteps in the hallway at 3 a.m.And there she was.Sera stood in the library doorway. Her hair was messily ti
SERA“For you, I would.”I froze. Breath catching. Before I could say anything, he turned back to the screen—as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just dropped a line that made my heart skip a whole damn beat.A few minutes passed in a comfortable silence, until suddenly, I heard him speak softly. “Thank you.”I frowned and turned a little. “For what?”He didn’t look at me right away. His eyes were still on the screen, like he was trying to find the right words. “For not asking.”And just like that, the mood shifted. I knew what he meant. That scar I saw at the gym. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he said it. The way his shoulders tensed, the way his breathing slowed—controlled. Cal, who was usually so gentle and relaxed, now felt … intense.“Because I know what that feels like,” I said softly.He finally looked at me. Our eyes met, and this time, neither of us looked away. His eyes were darker than usual, like they were holding in way more than he’d ever say out loud.I
SERAThe moment Beck disappeared past the door, I knew Ace would go right after him. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw clenched like someone holding back a whole ocean of rage.Before he could leave, I grabbed his hand. “Come here,” I said softly, pulling him closer and giving him a quick kiss on the lips—gentle, light, just enough to cut through the tension between us.“I know you can handle this,” I whispered, still close enough to feel his breath. “I trust you, Ace.”For a second, something in his eyes softened. Just for a second. His gaze stayed sharp, still like Ace's—never fully readable. “I’ll be good. Because you
BECKToday, the first class after the announcement felt heavier than usual. Not because of the material, but because my chest felt … tight. Like Reggie didn’t just leave behind a legacy, but also left a weight way too big for me to carry.Legacy. It sounds like a gift, right? But it feels more like a curse. Like a crown of thorns handed to us not out of hope, but as a reminder that we’re never really free. That now we all have something we’re supposed to protect.And the truth was … I still didn’t know what it means to be a Blackwood. Even I was not sure I deserved to carry that name.My steps were heavy as I crossed to the pavilion to grab my favorite leather jacket. The plan was to grab my stuff and leave with Ace. We were supposed to go driving.Yeah, Ace insisted on teaching me how to drive. He said, “A grown man who can’t drive is embarrassing. What, you think you’ll survive an emergency driving with crayons?”Which was dumb. I didn’t even use crayons. (Anymore.)Then I heard so
SERAI never questioned Reggie's decisions.He must had his reasons.That was the line I kept replaying in my head, like some mantra, every time that stubborn old man made a decision I couldn’t fully accept. But today—tonight—that line felt like poison slowly tightening around my chest.I sat at the edge of his bed, right where I always sat whenever we talked. My spot. From there, I could look at him across the room, lounging on that worn-out leather sofa, complaining about corporate politics. I could still feel him there somehow. Like a ghost that refused to leave.My hand clutched a letter. Edward had given each of us—me and the Blackwood brothers—a personal letter from Reggie.The edges were already crumpling under my shaking fingers, but I couldn’t let go. This wasn’t a contract, or some company memo, or a blood-chilling will. It was just a letter. In Reggie’s handwriting, I knew those strokes by heart.I had read it twice. Maybe three times? I wasn’t sure anymore.***Dearest Ser
ACEBy nine in the morning, we were already in Blackwood’s main hall—a place that only ever got used for events like this. The kind where silence is heavy, and everything smells like old money and regret. The sky outside was overcast, shadows of gray-blue light creeping through the tall windows and soaking the room in a cold hue. The Blackwood family portraits lined the walls like judges. Reggie’s was one of the biggest—arms crossed, chest puffed, staring straight at the spot where we were now all seated. It felt like he was still watching. Even from the grave.People had started to arrive—major shareholders, a few board members, and of course, him: interim CEO, Albert Coleman. His smile was stiff, like he knew he was the most unwelcome guest.And then there was us—the four of us. Beck sat to my left, arms crossed, looking like he could walk out at any second. Cal sat perfectly straight, his expression nearly unreadable. Damon, all the way at the end, scanned the room with those dark