Chapter 4 ~ And More…

{Harlow’s POV}

The Estate woke early.

By seven in the morning, the west hall was already drowning in flowers, silver trays, and servants moving with the sort of panic wealthy men called organization.

I stood near the center table with a clipboard in one hand and boredom on the other.

“Mrs. Vale?” one of the maids asked nervously. “Should the roses go beside the champagne tower or the staircase?”

“The staircase,” I answered. “If they’re near the champagne, someone important will knock them over and blame the staff for it.”

The maid looked relieved enough to cry.

I understood her completely.

These types of settings had the unique ability to make breathing feel performance-based.

I glanced around the hall again. Velvet drapes framed the towering windows while chandeliers spilled pale gold light across polished floors. Long tables stretched across the room dressed in ivory runners and crystal glassware so expensive I became afraid to blink near them.

The banquet was tonight.

Which meant Adrien Vale was about to perform wealth for an audience while I stood there as his wife. 

Lucky me.

“Those centerpieces are crooked.”

The voice came from behind me; low, familiar, and already irritating.

I turned slowly.

Kael stood near the entrance with his hands in his pockets and an expression that suggested being here violated several of his human rights laws.

His dark shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms and his hair looked slightly damp, like he had showered ten minutes ago and was still hunted by it. 

“You’re late,” I said.

“I considered not coming at all.”

“That would’ve been unfortunate considering your father specifically assigned you to help me.”

“Assigned,” he repeated flatly. “That’s a generous word for coercion.”

I ignored that and pointed toward the nearest table. “The candles need rearranging.”

His jaw tightened immediately. “They’re fine.”

“They look uneven.”

“They are uneven. That’s the point.”

I stared at him. “You intentionally want them asymmetrical?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because symmetrical arrangements make rich people feel judged.”

I blinked once. “That might be the stupidest thing I’ve heard since arriving here.”

“It’s called design.”

“It’s called a cry for help.”

One of the servants nearby choked on a laugh before quickly pretending to dust something.

Kael shot him a look sharp enough to peel paint.

Then he turned back to me. “You’re moving them too close together.”

“No, I’m fixing them.”

“You’re making the table look crowded.”

“And you’ll make it look haunted with your “design””

“It is haunted.”

I paused, and then decided to move on and adjust them myself. 

“You’re still changing them wrong,” he muttered eventually.

I sighed, tired. “And yet somehow they already look better.”

“That’s subjective.”

“See what I mean.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose and stepped beside me, reaching across the table to adjust one of the candleholders himself.

His arm brushed mine accidentally and the contact was brief. Barely there.

But heat still climbed my spine before I could stop it.

I stepped away first.

Cowardly perhaps, but effective. And I didn’t know if Kael noticed but the silence that followed felt too aware.

Too full.

Thankfully, one of the staff approached before it could become unbearable.

“Mrs. Vale,” the woman said softly. “The floral arrangements have arrived from the south garden.”

“Perfect. Bring them here.”

The staff hurried away again.

I focused on the clipboard in my hands because it was easier than looking at this boy directly.

“Your handwriting is awful,” he commented beside me.

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“It looks aggressive.”

“It’s a shopping list, not a declaration of war.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I looked up at him then, fully prepared to say something insulting, but the words stalled briefly in my throat.

Because he was already looking at me. Not casually either.

Intently.

Like he’d forgotten what the conversation was about halfway through it.

The realization unsettled me instantly. So I cleared my throat and looked away first.

Annoying.

“Could you at least pretend to be useful here?” I asked.

His voice came quieter this time. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Before I could answer, movement caught my eye near the far doorway.

Elias.

He stood partially obscured by the shadows near the corridor entrance, dressed in black as usual. He stood there watching.

Just… watching.

The sight of him immediately unsettled something deep in my stomach.

There was something wrong with that man.

Kael followed my gaze instantly and his entire posture sharpened.

But before either of us could say anything, Elias smiled faintly and disappeared down the corridor without a word.

Like he had only come to remind us he existed.

I frowned after him.

Creepy.

“Don’t concern yourself with him,” Kael said suddenly.

“That’s difficult when he appears like a Victorian ghost every few hours.”

“He’s worse.”

I looked at him carefully. “You genuinely hate him.”

Kael’s expression hardened instantly. “You should too.”

Before I could question him further, another servant approached us carrying boxes of silverware and the moment dissolved beneath responsibility again.

Still, the feeling Elias left behind lingered long after he vanished.

Like cold fingers brushing the back of my neck.

**

By evening, the west hall no longer looked like a preparation site.

It looked like money.

Soft music drifted through the room. Executives and investors filled the hall dressed in tailored suits and silk gowns, their laughter polished and practiced.

Everything glittered.

Including the lies.

I stood near the edge of the room watching servers move between tables with silver trays balanced expertly in their hands.

Across the hall, Adrien Vale looked entirely in his element.

Calm.

Untouchable.

He wore dark charcoal tonight with silver cufflinks and the kind of composure powerful men spent years perfecting. Every conversation bent naturally toward him as though attention itself obeyed his gravity.

And beside him sat Kael.

Detached as ever.

Though every now and then, against his apparent will, his eyes still found me across the room.

Each glance felt brief enough to deny. But long enough to matter.

“Mrs. Vale.”

I stiffened slightly at the voice beside me.

Elias.

Again.

“You move quietly for someone so tall,” I complained. Sort of.

His lips curved faintly. “You notice me more than you pretend to.”

I did not like the way he said that.

Or the way his eyes lingered when speaking to me.

“What do you want?” I asked carefully.

And without answering immediately, Elias reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“I have this for you.”

I frowned. “I don’t want it.”

“You’ll need it.”

Something about the certainty in his voice unsettled me more than the note itself.

I hesitated before finally taking it from his hand, and did it mostly because I wanted him to leave.

His fingers brushed mine briefly and he watched my reaction with quiet interest before stepping back.

Then he smiled.

God, I hated that smile.

“You should read it alone,” he murmured.

And then he walked away. Just like that.

No explanation. No clarification.

Only unease left behind in his wake.

I stared down at the folded paper in my hand and before I could open it, glass clinked softly against glass from the center table.

Adrien had risen.

The room quieted almost immediately.

Power looked different on different men. On Adrien, it looked effortless.

“I’d like to thank you all for attending tonight,” he began smoothly for which everyone listened, including me. 

I was bored. 

**

After Adrien had concluded his speech, the banquet had continued in elegant blurs; wine poured endlessly, business deals disguised themselves as conversation, and expensive people laughed too loudly at unfunny jokes.

Eventually the evening began winding down.

Guests filtered toward the exits exchanging handshakes and promises while servants quietly began clearing the tables.

I moved automatically toward the nearest stack of plates to help.

Before my fingers could touch them, Adrien’s hand closed gently around my wrist.

“No,” he said softly. “The staff will handle that.”

I looked up at him.

“You did well tonight.” He said. The praise sat strangely inside me.

Like being congratulated by a man evaluating property.

Adrien’s thumb brushed once against my wrist before letting go.

“Go upstairs,” he said calmly. “Put on something nice and wait for me in my room.”

There it was.

My reward.

I almost laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because apparently successful event planning now earned me unwanted sex with my husband.

What a life.

Still, I nodded politely because refusal was not for me in this house.

“Of course.”

Adrien returned smoothly to his guests afterward while I turned toward the staircase feeling oddly hollow inside. This time it didn’t look like there was going to be an escape.

Good stuff. 

**

My room felt colder when I entered it.

Or maybe that was just me.

I closed the door behind me slowly before leaning against it for a moment and staring at nothing.

The silence pressed gently against my ears. Then I exhaled and crossed toward the wardrobe.

If I was expected to present myself like a gift, I supposed wrapping mattered.

How romantic.

I changed into a dark silk nightgown that skimmed softly over my body without quite hiding anything beneath it. Thin straps rested against my shoulders while the fabric fell loosely against my skin.

I wore nothing underneath.

Mostly because there didn’t seem much point pretending modesty at this stage.

I studied my reflection briefly afterward.

Beautiful. Tired. Expensive.

Like something displayed behind glass.

My reflection looked unimpressed. And honestly? I understood. 

I grabbed my phone from the vanity and left the room before I could think too hard about what waited upstairs.

The hallways were quieter now.

Most of the staff remained downstairs finishing cleanup while the upper floor rested beneath pools of dim amber light.

This Estate always felt stranger at night.

Too large.

Too silent.

Too awake.

By the time I reached Adrien’s bedroom door, my stomach had tightened itself into a knot.

I hesitated only briefly before stepping inside.

The room smelled faintly of cedarwood and expensive cologne. Dark walls. Low lighting. Heavy curtains.

And too much space.

It looked less like somewhere a person slept and more like somewhere secrets were buried professionally.

The bed sat near the center of the room beneath dim golden light spilling from a lamp near the fireplace.

I stared at it for a moment.

Then another.

Every instinct inside me wanted to leave.

Unfortunately survival had always demanded uglier things from women than instinct.

“Let’s get this over with,” I whispered.

The words sounded braver than I felt as I crossed the room and lowered myself onto the edge of the bed, my phone still resting loosely in my hand. The room felt oddly dim, far darker than I expected considering the size of it, and I found myself frowning slightly as I shifted against the mattress.

Something crinkled beneath my fingers.

I paused before lifting my hand and discovering the folded piece of paper I had completely forgotten about.

Elias’s note.

For a moment, I considered tossing it aside unopened. Whatever game he was playing, I wanted no part of it. Then curiosity arrived, kicked reason down a flight of stairs, and won the argument immediately.

With a quiet sigh, I unfolded the paper.

The handwriting looked rushed and uneven, the letters slanting across the page in a way that felt almost frantic, and my eyes moved across the message before my brain fully registered what I was reading.

“You are not the first wife. You will not be the last... But you still have time to become the first who leaves alive.”

My breath caught.

The last word settled inside me like ice.

Alive?

A chill slid slowly beneath my skin as my grip tightened around the paper. What had happened to the women who came before me? 

The room suddenly felt colder than it had a moment ago, and questions began piling into my head faster than I could sort through them.

Then the bedroom door opened.

I flinched so hard the note slipped from my fingers and landed on the bed beside me.

Fear rushed through my chest instantly.

Adrien.

He was here.

The room remained dim enough that the figure entering appeared only as a dark silhouette, but there was something unmistakably confident about the way he moved. The door clicked shut behind him, and my pulse immediately began to misbehave as he crossed the room without hesitation and headed straight for the bed.

This was it.

I had known it was coming from the moment I agreed to the contract, yet that knowledge did absolutely nothing to steady my nerves now.

Don’t panic.

You knew this was coming.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he climbed onto the bed, and something about the movement struck me as wrong almost immediately. It was too direct. Too impatient. Too unlike the controlled precision Adrien carried everywhere else.

My stomach tightened.

Then the figure leaned closer. Moonlight shifted across his face. And every thought inside my head came to a violent stop.

Because it was not Adrien. But Kael.

Shock hit me so hard I forgot how breathing worked.

“What—”

“I’m done pretending,” he said.

His voice sounded rougher than usual, stripped bare of its usual irritation and sarcasm, and there was something dangerously honest in his expression as his eyes locked onto mine through the darkness.

Then he spoke the words that shattered whatever remained of my comportment.

“Tonight,” he said, his voice low and intense, “I want you before he ever touches you.”