Heather stood in Caius's office, watching as his expression darkened the moment his eyes landed on her wrist.
"What happened to your wrist?" His voice was controlled, but there was an edge to it.
"It's nothing," she said quickly, brushing it off.
Caius didn't look convinced. "It's not nothing. Who did that to you?"
Heather hesitated. "I'm sure he didn't mean to. He didn't know my skin would be this sensitive to his grip."
Caius's gaze sharpened. "Adonis gripped you?"
The shift in his demeanor was immediate. He exhaled sharply, sitting down as he pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. Heather wasn't sure what was running through his mind, but his eyes, they were deadly. There was no emotion on his face, but his eyes burned with something unexplainable.
Then, without warning, he smiled. Not the charming kind. The kind that sent a chill down her spine.
He rose, walked to the glass case hanging on the wall, and opened it. His fingers wrapped around a bat, a prized piece belonging to one of the greatest baseball players in history, long since passed. It was expensive, legendary. And yet, Caius held it with a different kind of purpose.
Heather didn't know why, but it felt wrong. "Caius, no, no, no. It's not a big deal. I already handled it."
"Move," he said, voice low and dangerous.
A flicker of fear surged through her, but she refused to let it show. "You don't have to fight for me. I'm nothing to you. And you're nothing to me."
Caius leaned in slightly, his voice cold. "You may only be my pretend wife, but pretend or not, no one touches what's mine."
Heather stiffened. *What's mine?* Her pulse quickened. "I'm not yours."
"They don't know that."
"He knows."
"We'll see."
Before she could stop him, Caius used the bat to nudge her gently aside, effortlessly moving past her. Heather blinked, shaken. *What did he mean by that? What was he about to do?*
She rushed to towards him, passing the bedroom, but went back to the room. "Alex, stay here. Don't come out."
Alex looked up from his book. "Why?"
"Just stay, okay?"
"Okay," he said, though his eyes were curious, but he wanted to listen to Heather this once.
Heather ran after Caius, unsure where he had passed. But as soon as she stepped out of the chamber, she spotted him.
He wasn't rushing. He wasn't storming through the halls. He was simply walking—one hand tucked into his pocket, the other gripping the bat loosely at his side. There was a quiet, lethal confidence in his movements, unhurried and deliberate.
As he passed the maids trimming the plants, they all bowed. "Young master," they murmured in practiced reverence.
Heather could see the younger ones stealing glances, whispering among themselves. But when they noticed her watching, they straightened quickly. Heather rolled her eyes and pushed forward. None of them knew what he was about to do. Neither did she. But the feeling in her chest told her it was going to be brutal. Now, she could run after him and try to stop him, but she wanted to see Adonis break his nose. Hell, she'll pay to watch anyone hurt his face, it won't be so perfect afterwards.
Caius entered the main house. She saw him stop to talk to one of the maids, perhaps asking where Adonis was. The maid pointed toward the meeting room. Caius pushed the door open. Heather followed barely five seconds later.
"How did you cut yourself like this?" she asked, inspecting the wound. "Luckily, it's not too deep."
Heather frowned. What?
"What's going on here?" Caius asked, his voice even.
Adonis turned slightly, his gaze flickering between Caius and Heather.
"Brother Adonis hurt himself," Lily explained, unconvinced. "I still don't understand how he got a cut like this."
"Oh. Hi, Heather," Lily added, waving briefly. Heather nodded. He hurt himself?
Adonis exhaled. "Like I said, I slipped. Accidents happen all the time."
Caius's gaze shifted from Adonis to Heather.
"Yes," Lucy said slowly. "But those cuts look like they were made from a fight." She paused. "One you clearly lost." She murmured.
Adonis's jaw tensed. "Can we stop talking about this? It was an accident." His tone was clipped, and when he glanced at Heather, she saw the resentment in his eyes.
Lucy sighed, raising her hands in surrender. "Fine. I'll drop it." She turned to Caius, then narrowed her eyes. "Why are you holding a bat?"
Caius pulled his hand from his pocket, lifting the bat slightly. "I wanted to show it to Adonis. Figured he'd appreciate it."
"I didn't know Brother Adonis was into baseball," Lily said, amused.
Caius smirked. "We used to play when we were younger. I used to beat the hell out of him."
Adonis didn't react. He refused to engage. "Are you done?" he asked Lucy.
"Not yet."
"You said it wasn't deep."
"Doesn't mean it's nothing. Just one last stitch and you'll be fine."
Adonis sighed. "Well, hurry up."
Lucy frowned at his impatience but said nothing. Then, she glanced at Heather. "Why are you here?"
Heather exhaled. She wasn't going to lie. "I came to stop Caius from beating Adonis with that bat."
Lily blinked. Then smirked. "Is he really that bad at baseball?"
Caius let them have their moment before grabbing Heather's wrist and pulling her out of the room, taking her into a corner.
"He slipped?" Caius asked.
"You heard him."
Caius studied her closely. "He's lying. What really happened?"
Heather hesitated, then sighed.
"You did that, didn't you?" he asked.
She had. When the glass had shattered, Adonis had let go of her in surprise. She'd seized the opportunity, grabbed a sharp piece, and struck, aiming for his face. He had blocked it with his arm. He hadn't told anyone what had happened because he had hurt her first. And she had acted in self-defense.
"Maybe," Heather muttered.
Caius exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You're a little devious, aren't you?" He studied her again, his expression unreadable. "You should've told me. What if he killed you?" His voice carried the weight of concern, but just enough to fool. He wasn't worried, if anything, he was impressed. Maybe even something worse.
Heather scoffed. "That'd probably be good news for you."
"Don't you think 'kill' is a bit of an exaggeration? And he can't hurt me. I can take care of myself." She said, crossing her arms.
Caius shaked his head like a disappointed hubby. "You can never be too certain." He was convinced enough his voice betrayed the happiness in his heart. Though he kept his expression intact, like he always did.
Heather frowned, she didn't know why he was upset. "And that's not your problem." Heather brushed past him without another word. The way she left made it clear she didn't need anyone fighting for her. Least of all, Caius. He had no right to be upset or act like he cared.
As she walked away, he remained still, watching her. For the first time, he saw something new in her. A sharpness, an unpredictability, a fire he hadn't expected. And it intrigued him. Impressed him.
Not that he'd ever let her know.
...
Thirty minutes before the party, and the estate was alive with movement. Guests streamed in, voices rising and falling as conversations wove through the space. Heather had already been to the main house, but Lily had insisted she arrive with Caius—something about family tradition.
She hadn't planned on going back for him. She hadn't even wanted to. But if they were going to keep up appearances, it would look strange if she arrived alone.
Before heading to Caius, Heather decided to check on Alex first. The maid assigned to watch him sat beside the bed, hands neatly folded in her lap, but Alex lay there unmoving. He wasn't watching a science convention, wasn't reading, just… still.
Heather brushed his hair back gently. He barely stirred.
"He's been having headaches, Mrs. Thorne," the maid informed her.
Heather exhaled. It wasn't new. She already knew. He'd been complaining about them for days, along with nausea, but nothing serious. The family doctor wasn't allowed into the estate until after the ritual of transmigration. Tradition, Gerald had said. No outsiders allowed a week before the ritual of transmigration. Heather still didn't understand half of the rules that governed this family, but they seemed to dictate everything.
Instead, Lucy had been providing medication, but nothing seemed to be working.
"Baby, are you feeling better?" she asked softly.
"I just need to rest," Alex murmured, his voice small.
Heather hesitated, fingers lingering on his forehead. "Maybe I should stay with him."
"No," the maid interjected quickly. "You must be present with the young master. It's tradition."
Heather shot her an irritated glance. Tradition. That word again. "I don't care about tradition."