Semua Bab His Forgotten Heir: Bab 1 - Bab 7

Seraphina set the last carton of milk in the fridge, her fingers trembling slightly as if the simple act of placing it down could betray her. The faint scrape of the box against the surface made her flinch. She curled her fingers into her palm, forcing them still. Her mind refused to quiet down. The supermarket—the collision, the hand, the eyes… Kael. His presence lingered in the corners of her mind like a shadow she couldn’t shake. She pictured the way his gaze had lingered for a fraction too long, the faint curve of his lips in thought, the unshakable confidence in his posture. Her chest tightened, her pulse quickened, and she realized just how close she had come to freezing completely in front of him. A simple greeting, a collision in the aisle… and yet the memory made her stomach twist.Shaking off the lingering panic, she grabbed her keys from the counter. Closing hour already. I can't be late. Not for him—never for him.The thought of Aldren waiting, or worse, worrying, pro

“Run the numbers again.”The room fell silent.Kael didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The command alone was enough to shift the atmosphere, tightening it like a drawn wire. Around the long glass table, executives exchanged brief, uneasy glances before one of them cleared his throat.“We already verified the projections twice,” the man said carefully. “They’re accurate.”Kael didn’t look at him immediately. His attention remained on the document in front of him, fingers resting lightly against the page as if he could feel the inconsistency through touch alone.“Then you won’t have a problem doing it a third time,” he replied.A pause.Then, reluctantly, the man nodded and reached for his tablet.Kael leaned back in his chair, gaze finally lifting. Sharp. Assessing. The kind of look that didn’t just observe—it dissected. Every person in the room straightened under it, subconsciously adjusting, recalibrating.This was his space.Control wasn’t something he demanded.It was somet

The rhythmic sound of a knife against the chopping board filled the kitchen, steady and familiar.Seraphina worked with quiet focus, slicing through vegetables with practiced ease, the soft glow of the evening light spilling through the window and settling across the counter. The world, for now, felt contained within these walls—predictable, manageable.Aldren’s voice drifted in from the living room.“…and then he said it wasn’t even my turn!”Seraphina smiled faintly to herself, not looking up. “Was it your turn?”“No,” Aldren admitted easily. “But that’s not the point.”That made her pause, just for a second, before a quiet laugh slipped from her lips.“Of course it isn’t.”She resumed chopping, listening as his small footsteps moved closer. He always did this—talked more when he got home, as if the entire day had been waiting to spill out of him the moment he stepped through the door.“I think he just didn’t want to lose,” Aldren continued, now leaning against the counter, watching