All Chapters of His Beautiful Traitor : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Seraphina's POVBy the time I returned to Maximilian’s side, I had already reconstructed myself the way I always did after getting too close to something dangerous. My face was calm once more, my posture perfect, my hands steady—as if nothing had happened in that corridor at all. That was the rule I had learned long ago in this house: if something cracks inside you, you don’t show it; you simply bury it deeper and smile until no one can tell the difference.Maximilian was still speaking with investors, his voice smooth, his laughter controlled, his confidence filling the room like an intoxicating substance people were meant to inhale. When he noticed me, his hand immediately returned to my waist, not checking whether I wanted it there, simply placing it as though I were an object that had briefly wandered too far from where it belonged.“Where did you go?” he asked quietly, still smiling at the people in front of him.“Just needed some air,” I replied softly.His fingers pressed into

Seraphina POVThe drive back from the gala felt longer than it should have, as if the city itself had thickened around us, slowing every movement of the limousine as it cut through the night. I sat rigidly in my seat, hands folded in my lap, still aware of the place where Killian had caught me earlier—as if the imprint of his grip had refused to leave my skin, even after he let go.Maximilian was in a mood undecided between satisfaction and irritation. He kept glancing at his phone, his thumb moving in short, controlled motions across the screen. Every so often, his gaze flicked toward me, as if checking whether I remained in the position he had placed me. I had come to recognize that look too well over the years. It was neither affection nor curiosity, but ownership recalculating itself in real time.Killian sat opposite us, perfectly composed, his posture relaxed in a way that felt deliberately unnatural for someone in his position. He possessed a stillness that made the air around

The Thorne mansion no longer felt like a home; it had become a sealed vault where every breath came at a cost, and Seraphina had learned to pay in silence.That morning, she stood before the mirror, her fingers gently tracing the faint shadows of bruises that makeup could no longer fully conceal. Diamonds hung around her neck like a cruel joke, sparkling against skin that had grown to flinch from touch. Behind her, the room was oppressively quiet—the kind of quiet that always precedes something breaking.Downstairs, laughter echoed—laughter that wasn’t warm. The Thornes’ laughter always sounded like the cry of something hunted.Seraphina’s emerald eyes remained fixed on her reflection as she adjusted her robe, hiding what she could and preparing for what she could not.A knock came. "Seraphina," Cassandra’s voice slipped through the door like poison seeping through cracks. "Mother wants you downstairs. Now."Seraphina closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them, whatever

The mansion no longer felt like a home; it seemed as though something had awakened within its walls. Not the Thornes, but something far older. Seraphina sat in her room, her hands pressed so tightly against her lap that her nails dug into her skin. The words from the paper refused to leave her mind.She was taken—not dead, not lost. The difference was like a blade that refused to stop cutting. A soft knock came at the door. Seraphina flinched before she could stop herself. "Madam," came a maid’s voice. "The master requests your presence downstairs." Seraphina did not move."Tell him I’m not coming."There was a pause. Then the maid whispered, almost apologetically, "It’s… not a request this time." Seraphina closed her eyes. Of course it wasn’t.Downstairs, the atmosphere had shifted again—controlled in a way that suggested danger was being organized, not merely reacted to. Killian stood near the center of the room, no longer carrying the posture of a bodyguard, but something else enti

The mansion didn’t just go dark—it turned ominous. The power failure was supposed to be mechanical: predictable and fixable. But this was something else entirely; it was silence with purpose behind it. The Thorne estate felt hollowed out, as if something had reached inside and removed its heartbeat.Seraphina couldn’t see a thing, but she could feel the shift in the air—the way every breath suddenly felt borrowed. Killian still stood beside her, holding her wrist as if loosening his grip would cause the world itself to swallow her whole.From somewhere in the darkness, Maximilian’s voice cut through. “This is my house,” he said again, slower this time. “Whoever is playing games, you will regret stepping inside.”Then the house itself seemed to answer, as if it had learned to speak. “You’ve been calling it yours for too long.” Killian froze completely. Seraphina sensed it instantly. That was recognition, sharpened into something dangerous.Maximilian took a step forward. “Show yourself