Caleb’s POV
Father was in a bad mood today.
I could tell the mont I entered his study—he’d lit his cigar in a hurry, not even bothering to flick the ash. It had fallen on the front of his custom-tailored suit, like an ugly scar.
"Close the door." He didn’t look up. His fingers swiped rapidly across his tablet, which displayed a brief on the Hale Group’s latest acquisition.
I did as he said, closing the door and stopping three paces from his desk—a distance drilled into since childhood: close enough to show respect, yet far enough to avoid offense.
"Penelope’s mother just called." He finally looked up, his gaze sharp. "She wants Lila to attend the engagent party. In her words, ’to let that adopted daughter witness it firsthand, lest she entertain any wishful thinking.’"
I frowned. "She’s Mrs. Hale now. She might not be willing to play along with this sort of performance."
"She has to be." Father’s tone was ironclad. "You arrange it. Just say... your mother misses her and wants her to co ho for dinner."
That last part made relax slightly. Mother did often talk about Lila. Just last week, she had soone send Lila’s favorite almond cookies to her school. She didn’t know Lila had already moved into Moon Hidden Villa, thinking she was just ’temporarily staying with a friend.’ In her eyes, Lila would always be that timid little girl who’d lost her parents at ten, standing nervously in our entryway.
"I’ll contact her," I said.
"It’s not just about dinner." Father leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Things have been going too smoothly for her with the Hale family lately. Her internship is going well, her social circle is clean, and even Penelope can’t get close to her. That’s not right."
I nodded. Lila was supposed to be a timid little wallflower—an abandoned adopted daughter, a contract marriage, an awkward identity. But now, she had actually found her footing in the Hale family and was even starting to participate in the old city renovation project. It made faintly uneasy.
"You have two tasks." Father held up two fingers. "First, ensure that next Wednesday’s engagent party goes off without a hitch and that Penelope is satisfied. Second, maintain contact with Lila. The Goodrich ho is always her ho—don’t let her leave our surveillance."
"Understood," I answered crisply. ’He ans: don’t let her start thinking she’s really the queen of the Hale family.’
He leaned back in his chair and suddenly muttered, as if to himself, "...it’s so damn strange. That Derek Hale fellow actually said the Great Elder recognized so ’Destined Aura’ on her, and sothing about a ’Moon Crown Ceremony’..."
He stopped abruptly mid-sentence, his gaze sweeping over warily.
I pretended I hadn’t heard the unfamiliar na. ’Derek Hale? Who’s that? So information broker? Or one of Father’s business informants?’
But the words "Great Elder" and "Destined Aura" still struck a chord in my mind.
’The Hale family has a Great Elder?’
’Lila was recognized as having so special status?’
I kept my expression neutral and tilted my head slightly. "What was that, Father?"
He waved a hand, his tone back to normal. "Nothing. I’m getting old, just muttering to myself. Go on, get to it."
I turned and left, but I committed that na to mory: Derek Hale.
’I’ll have my assistant look into him as soon as I get back. Anyone with access to the Hale family’s internal affairs is no simple character.’
Once I was out of the main building, I imdiately called my assistant. "Look into soone for . Derek Hale. His background, whereabouts, recent contacts—especially his status and history within the Hale family. Compile everything."
"The Hale family?" my assistant asked, confused. "Is that..."
"Just do it," I cut him off. "Also, send an invitation to Lila in Mother’s na: co ho for dinner Saturday night. Say she isn’t feeling well and misses Lila terribly."
"Yes, sir."
After hanging up, I walked to the garage.
Penelope had just sent a ssage saying her wedding dress alterations were done and that I should go over in the afternoon to try on my suit with it.
I replied with an "Okay" and casually opened Lila’s social dia account. She rarely posted, but this morning she had shared a photo of an architectural model with the caption: "Community library, rounded-corner safety test for the children’s area passed!"
Zoe had left a comnt below: "My dad says you’re amazing! I’ll make sure you get an extra dish tonight!"
I stared at the comnt for three seconds before closing the page.
’Jasper Hale actually cares what she eats?’
’Absurd.’
’But what’s even more absurd is that I actually care.’
Shaking off the thought, I started the car.
’Lila’s life is going too smoothly right now. So smoothly that she’s close to forgetting how timidly she used to trail behind , and how she begged when she confessed her feelings to !’
She needs a little reminder.
A reminder that Goodrich is her only real refuge;
that a contract marriage will eventually co to an end;
and that the Tear of the Moon God she wears around her neck might have to be taken off and returned one day.
And sure enough, she ca on Saturday night.
She wore a simple beige knit dress, her hair loosely pinned up, and she looked more relaxed than she did at school. The mont Mother saw her, her eyes reddened. She took Lila’s hand and said, "You’ve gotten thinner. Are the people at the Hale family not treating you well?"
Lila smiled and shook her head. "They’re wonderful. Please don’t worry, Uncle, Aunt."
—She still called them "Uncle" and "Aunt" out of habit, which put slightly at ease. At least she hadn’t completely severed her emotional ties to the Goodrich family.
During dinner, Mother kept putting more food on her plate, asking if her internship was tiring and if she wanted to move back in. Lila answered each question gently, saying the Hale family was taking good care of her and that Zoe often kept her company.
"That’s good, then." Mother sighed. "I just worry you’ll be mistreated out there. If you run into any trouble, you must tell us. Especially Caleb—you two have always been so close, growing up together."
Lila glanced at , her expression calm. "I know, Aunt."
I looked down and cut my steak, not saying a word.
The calr she was, the more dangerous I found her. She wasn’t having an emotional outburst or crying; she was calmly severing her past. She didn’t even seem like the Lila I knew anymore.
After dinner, Mother went to the kitchen to get dessert, leaving the two of us alone in the living room.
"Are you really safe at the Hale residence?" I asked bluntly.
She raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
"I’ve heard that so of the old-tirs are very unhappy with Jasper," I said. "Not to ntion you, his fragile new wife."
She watched quietly, then suddenly smiled. "Brother, if you’re so worried about , aren’t you afraid Penelope will get jealous?"
I was montarily speechless.
"I’m just reminding you," I finally said. "The Goodrich ho will always be your ho. Don’t let a mont of peace make you forget who truly loves you."
She didn’t answer, rely looking down to smooth her dress.
In that mont, I suddenly realized—she didn’t need my reminders anymore.
She had found her sense of belonging with the Hale family, and I had beco the one trying to pull her back into her old cage.
Mother ca out with a lemon tart, and the atmosphere instantly ward. Lila ate happily, saying it tasted exactly the sa as when she was a child.
As she was leaving, Mother held her hand. "If you ever want so, just co back anyti."
Lila said softly, "Thank you, Mom."
—She called her "Mom."
Not "Aunt," but "Mom."
For so reason, my heart tightened.
I walked her to the door and watched her get into a white rcedes, its headlights cutting through the night.
I stood on the steps until its taillights disappeared around the corner.
Back in my room, a ssage from my assistant popped up:
Derek Hale: Forr Guard Captain of the Hale family. Failed in a coup attempt three years ago and defected to the Northern Wilderness. No recent public activity, but intelligence suggests he has been in secret contact with multiple factions, including... the Goodrich Group.
I stared at the last line for a long ti without moving.
’Father... what exactly is he plotting?’
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