Chapter 3 ~ Father’s New Prize

{Kael’s POV}

The Estate woke before I did.

Servants were whispering in the halls as they went about their duties and I heard my father’s voice in a distant room as he made one of his uncanny calls. 

I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling beams. They were old. Heavy; the kind that looked like they remembered things.

I didn’t sleep much. I hadn’t slept well for years, but last night was worse, because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.

Harlow.

My father’s new bride. Or prize.

There has been many before her so I was used to seeing strangers like her, but then she seems different. 

She’s not like the others who have come and mysteriously disappear. She’s too confident and stubborn and something about that urges me to constantly warn her about my father and the way he uses people like her.

At the end of the day, I don’t care. She’s not my responsibility but then there’s what happened yesterday at the greenhouse. 

I had lost control for a moment there and it had led to something I didn’t want to describe now. I didn’t want to address it because it means nothing.

She was just annoying and I had been reminding her of how insignificant and volatile she was in this house.

She’s my father’s new toy and soon she’ll gone just like the rest of them, just like my mother. 

I shoved the thoughts away and got up now, going to the bathroom at once.

The shower was cold and I stayed there longer than usual. When I got out, I dressed and went downstairs to go about my daily routine.

Which was; eat, surf the internet, masturbate, and continue scheming ways to escape this estate for good. 

**

By the time I got downstairs, the kitchen was already awake. Milko, one of the Kitchen staff, handed me a mug of coffee without asking. He did that lately.

“You look…” He squinted. “Never mind. I’m not risking it.”

I grunted, which was close enough to a greeting.

He went back to slicing fruit like it had personally offended him. “Your father wants you at dinner tonight,” he said and I frowned.

It’s been centuries since we had any form of feasting together, but I could understand that this was because of Harlow’s presence.  

The man liked performances. 

“I’ll pass,” I muttered.

Milko shrugged. “Tell him yourself. I’m not dying today.”

I almost smiled at that— almost, then I heard footsteps behind me; light, slow and intentional. 

Harlow walked in.

She was not expecting me in the kitchen and not dressed for an audience— just a robe; a loose soft cream fabric tied loosely at her waist with tendrils of hair escaping the braid she’d slept in.

Her chest was smooth and almost fully exposed and seeing that, my chest tightened sharply. 

Her eyes widened when she saw me but it was not fear. Just… awareness, and then she readjusted her robe slowly, like she didn’t really care. 

It made something under my ribs shift.

“Good morning,” Milko said brightly, as if trying to save himself from whatever tension pooled between us.

She responded and nodded softly to him but then the robe shifted when she reached for a cup, revealing a hint of her cleavage.

I looked away too swiftly and hated the reaction almost immediately.

We didn’t say anything to each other. I drank my coffee while she poured tea, after which I felt her glance flick toward me, cautious. Then she moved past me to grab honey for which her body brushed against my arm. It was accidental but my body registered it coupled with the faint scent of lavender that hovered in the air. 

She reacted too. I could tell from the way her strides hurried before she stopped on the other side of the counter. 

“Sorry,” she murmured.

Formal; polite, with indifference nailed into her tone like armor.

It should have calmed me.

It didn’t.

I put my mug down a little too hard and left the kitchen at once. I had other things to attend to. 

**

It was evening time and I was seated at the dinner table.

Yes, I had responded to my father’s outre dinner request. But then I had done so because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. .

The dining hall looked exactly as it always did back then, with its long polished table stretching through the center of the room. The lighting was soft and the silence felt thick in the way it always did whenever the bloke decided we were expected to share a meal.

The only difference tonight sat to his right.

Harlow.

She had changed since morning, trading the loose robe for a dark dress that fit her in a quiet, intentional way, the kind that didn’t try to attract attention but managed to do it anyway.

I noticed it. Then I immediately forced my attention back to the food in front of me.

As minutes ticked by, Harlow ate calmly across from me, her posture straight and her movements controlled, as if she had already understood some of the silent rules of this house and decided to play along with them.

Every now and then my gaze drifted toward her before I realized what I was doing.

She had said she was twenty-nine. 

She didn’t look it. Not exactly.

There was something distinctive about her expression, something steady that made her seem older in some moments and younger in others.

It was so confusing that it was annoying. I turned my attention away from it and returned my focus to the plate in front of me.

My father set his glass down now and then came his voice. “There will be a banquet tomorrow,” he said and Harlow looked up at him. I didn’t react. 

“A celebration,” he continued. “Several executives from the company will attend.”

Of course.

Everything in his life was either business or theatre, and most of the time it was both.

He turned slightly toward her.

“I want you to oversee the preparations.”

Harlow blinked once before nodding.

“Of course.”

There was no hesitation from her, no protest, which meant she was either adaptable or practical enough to understand the situation promptly. 

“It will take place in the west hall tomorrow afternoon,” he continued. “I will not be present until the event begins.”

Meaning she would be responsible for everything until then. 

His gaze shifted toward me.

“If assistance is required,” he said calmly, “Kael will help you.” He told me and for a moment, Harlow looked at me.

It was brief, but the glance held awareness of all the tension that existed between us with all the awkward scenarios. 

I held her gaze for a second before looking away. None of it was worth acknowledging.

Meanwhile, helping organize a dinner didn’t mean anything.

“Fine,” I muttered and my father accepted the answer without comment.

The rest of the meal continued quietly until Harlow eventually set her napkin down and rose from her seat.

“Excuse me,” she said politely and left the dining hall without waiting for a response.

My father barely reacted, already pulling his phone from his pocket and beginning another call before she had even reached the door.

I finished eating a few minutes later and stood. As I pushed my chair back, something near Harlow’s seat caught my attention.

Her phone. She had left it beside her plate.

For a moment I stared at it, debating whether or not to bother.

It wasn’t my responsibility, and returning it would imply a level of concern I didn’t usually offer people; especially not her.

Still, after a moment of irritation directed mostly at myself, I picked it up and left the dining room.

The hallway upstairs was quiet and when I reached her door, I knocked once.

No answer.

“Harlow,” I called.

Silence.

I frowned slightly before pushing the door open.

I got in to see the room empty, lit only by the warm glow of the bedside lamps and the faint silver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. Her bed remained untouched, the sheets fairly smooth, which meant she hadn’t been there long.

I stepped inside, intending to place the phone on the table and leave. Then I heard it.

Water; a steady, rhythmic sound coming from the bathroom.

I paused.

The bathroom door stood slightly open, and a thin stream of steam drifted through the gap.

I should have turned around and left. Instead, I moved closer.

The bathroom wall was made of tinted glass, designed to obscure the details while still allowing light to pass through.

But it didn’t hide everything.

Behind the glass, her figure moved beneath the falling water, softened by the steam and distorted by the streams of water sliding down the glass.

But I could still see her. I could still identify her parts. 

Her head tilted back slightly as she lifted a hand to push wet hair away from her neck, and the movement revealed the wide curve of her hips and the faint line of her thighs.

The outline was unmistakable.

Full hips…

The side curves on her chest… 

My jaw tightened.

Through the tinted glass, the silhouette was clear enough to leave very little to imagination, and the way she shifted beneath the water made the outline change every few seconds.

She turned slightly and the frontward parts of her body came into view. Her breasts, waist and…

My breath grew shaky and for a moment I stood there without moving, my mind registering the scene before my sense of reason caught up.

This was a mistake.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. 

The thought snapped through my head sharply enough to break whatever trance had held me there. I stepped back from the door immediately.

My pulse felt heavier now, and the quiet sound of the shower behind the glass seemed louder than before.

Without looking again, I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.

The air felt hotter now. 

Harlow’s phone was still in my hand and I stared at it for a moment before setting it on the small table outside her door.

Then I ran a hand over the back of my neck and started walking down the corridor.

None of that meant anything. 

She’s my father’s wife. And I can never become like my father.