Chapter 3

It was already late in the evening when my classes finally wrapped up. My back throbbed with a dull ache from standing in front of the easel for hours, but the ache in my heart cut far deeper every time Damon’s words from this morning echoed in my mind.

Is Lion really going to marry Jewell?

My phone vibrated inside the pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out hastily, holding onto a foolish, desperate hope—even though I knew it was impossible—that maybe it was a text from Lion.

It was just Damon.

[Damon: I’m outside, baby girl. Hurry up, I’m starving.]

I let out a heavy breath, bade goodbye to Jobel—who was still practically hyperventilating at the sight of Damon’s car—and made my way straight outside. As soon as I stepped past the gates, there it was: Damon’s black SUV. He was leaning casually against the driver's side door, his arms crossed over his chest with the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone. A few passing female students were visibly gawking at him, but the moment his eyes caught mine, a mischievous smirk stretched across his face.

“You took your sweet time, baby girl,” he grumbled playfully as I approached. He reached out to open the passenger door for me. “I should’ve reminded you that you have a curfew now.”

“Sorry. We had to clean up the studio,” I replied, climbing inside.

The door shut with a heavy thud, and he quickly walked around to the driver's seat. Once settled, he didn't start the engine right away. Instead, he leaned over toward me, reaching for my seatbelt. He was so close I could smell the sharp, intoxicating blend of his masculine cologne and the lingering scent of expensive cigarettes.

My breath hitched in my throat. My eyes flicked up to his, only to find him staring directly at my lips before offering a low, knowing smile.

“Where’s Lion? Why didn't he pick me up?” I asked, attempting to redirect his focus as he clicked the seatbelt into place and pulled back slightly.

“The golden heir is busy,” Damon chuckled, turning the key in the ignition. “They just got back from the corporate office. With Jewell, of course. And guess what? His darling girlfriend is down in the kitchen right now, cooking dinner for us. Playing the part of the future lady of the house.”

His last words felt like a cold blade sinking straight into my chest.

Future lady of the house.

Why did it hurt this much? Every single time Jewell’s name was uttered—every time the reality of her becoming Lion’s wife was brought up—it felt like the air was being violently ripped from my lungs.

Throughout the drive, I remained dead silent, staring aimlessly out the window. Every now and then, I could feel Damon stealing glances at me. On occasion, his hand would lightly rest on my thigh while he navigated through the night traffic—something he used to do casually when I was a kid, but now... the touch sent an unsettling electric current straight down my spine.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, the entire mansion was eerie and quiet. But the moment we stepped into the grand foyer, the savory, mouth-watering aroma of home-cooked food wafted through the air.

“We're home!” Damon’s loud voice boomed as he kicked off his dress shoes.

The soft hum of laughter and the clinking of silverware echoed from the dining area. Jewell emerged from the kitchen first—wearing a simple apron over her elegant dress, a broad, welcoming smile gracing her features the moment she saw us.

“Oh, you guys are finally here! Perfect timing, I just finished the lasagna and roast chicken. Come on, sit down,” Jewell offered in her sweet, soft-spoken voice.

“Mmm! Smells incredible already, Sister In-law!” Damon teased, strolling casually past her into the dining space.

I stood frozen near the doorway of the dining hall. Lion stepped out from the pantry. The sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, his dark hair artfully tousled, and his eyes... unreadable and icy cold. Our eyes locked. Time seemed to grind to a halt. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run to Lion, to wrap my arms around his neck and beg him to come up to my room. But I remained pinned to the spot, forced to watch as Jewell’s hand trailed gently across his back, fixing the collar of his shirt with practiced intimacy.

“Come inside, Snow. We’re about to eat,” Lion said, his voice deep, smooth, and distantly cold.

I swallowed hard, forcing a tight, artificial smile onto my face despite feeling utterly shattered inside.

“I’ll just... change my clothes upstairs first, Lion.” I didn't wait for his reply. I turned around sharply and practically bolted up the grand staircase before the hot tears stinging the corners of my eyes could spill over.

Because with every sweet, affectionate gesture Jewell made toward Lion... and with every cold, indifferent look Lion threw my way... a dark, volatile mix of rage and unholy desire continued to brew deep within my chest.