ODETTE/OPHELIA'S POV
I overestimated him.
I overestimated what Kayros could do to me. I expected violence, guns, something involving physical harm.
But sitting here in front of his stepmother and stepsisters inside this luxury boutique, surrounded by some of the city's most beautiful—and ill-fitting—engagement gowns, I can only wonder if he even meant any real harm to me.
Helen Nathaniel, Kayros's stepmother, daughter of an American oligarch.
In the novel, she was described as a woman carved from class, elegance, pride, and beauty. I won't argue.
This forty-seven-year-old woman has the most flawless skin and radiant blonde hair I've ever seen on anyone her age.
Lia and Archy Nathaniel, the twin stepsisters, manage the public image of the Nathaniel family at just twenty-six.
Yes, the age difference between Kayros and his twin stepsisters is only two years. And as you might have guessed—Kayros's father cheated on his mother, who has been bedridden since Kayros's first birthday, after a gang attack.
He never divorced her, mostly because of Kayros's maternal uncle, the secret kingmaker of several superpowers.
But Helen's daughters aren't eligible to take over the Nathaniel legacy in the future, because of their gender.
Complicated shit. But long story short:
These three hate me from the bottom of their hearts. That much is confirmed from the moment we met.
Lia and Archy's green eyes are glaring at me like I've committed a capital crime. To most, they'd just look like beautiful, elegant women.
But damn if the slightly tighter grip around their coffee cups doesn't give away their displeasure every time I step out to try on a gown.
And let's not forget my soon-to-be mother-in-law's cold emerald eyes, which are making the designers and tailors shiver every time they glance her way.
Kayros Nathaniel… you just put Me in typical in law situation...
But yeah, it's uncomfortable.
I can feel the unease in my veins because this… whatever it is… it's getting under my skin.
And every single dress here is either too tight or too loose. I bite my tongue, looking at the one black gown that actually fits.
It looks like a plain black funeral dress.
Lia and Archy smirk behind their coffee mugs. Helen's lips curve slightly, pleasure glinting in her eyes. I almost roll mine.
"Is this the only gown that fits me?" I ask the tailor, Madam Jade, a highly sought-after name in French high society. Her eyebrows crease, humiliation written all over her face.
Of course. Of course. This was Helen Nathaniel's order, wasn't it? To tailor only one plain dress to my measurements.
I almost chuckle at her desperate attempt to break me. But sadly, her opponent is a bigger bitch.
"Bring me the third dress from the left," I say, my voice smooth and void of any hurry.
Lia's eyes widen. "That's our gown, Ophelia!"
I know.
Stripping off the black dress, I slip into the beautiful backless red mermaid gown. It hugs my curves perfectly and gives a delicious view of my cleavage. My delicate collarbone catches the light.
Madam Jade gasps once she steps back to look. Helen clenches her jaw tightly. "Ophelia, this is not your dress."
"Oh, that's up to me to decide," I cut her off, my tone nonchalant. I let my hand run down the side of my hip… Holy shit.
I look like sin dressed in red and black heels. Ophelia really has a gorgeous body—perfect curves in all the right places, flawless caramel skin, sharp hazel-green eyes, and full lips.
Archy and Lia are green with envy but can't say a word. What can they say when their mother is sitting there, silent?
This is the situation for most women in the underworld. They sit back even when they hate something. They live off their fathers, then their brothers and husbands, and finally their sons.
Helen suddenly stands up. Snatching a pair of scissors from one of the designers, fire in her eyes, she lifts her hand to slash the side of my dress.
But before she can even touch the fabric, I twirl away like a princess, making her stumble forward. Lia and Archy jump up instantly. "Mom!"
Helen stiffens and turns toward me, furious. "Did you just—?"
I smile, cold yet sweet. "Mother-in-law, let's not embarrass ourselves in front of so many people, hmm?"
Her eyes darken. Her knuckles turn white around the scissors. Her body trembles with anger. I just keep smiling, and it pisses her off even more.
A strange satisfaction relaxes my body.
Ophelia Blackwood – 1
Kayros Nathaniel – 0
As the shopping ends, I get into the same car as the three of them. The silence is thick, uncomfortable, with three pairs of angry eyes pinning me down with a passion I didn't even use to pass the bar.
To think I'll be family with these people. I sigh, almost dramatically.
"Why are you sighing?" Archy's voice is high-pitched, dripping with annoyance.
I turn my head toward her, blinking with fake innocence. "I was expecting something more dangerous, not th—"
Suddenly, the driver slams the brakes, jerking us all forward.
Lia gasps. "What the fuck!"
The driver's face goes pale as he stares ahead. When I follow his gaze…
My eyes widen.
"Wait… who are these men?" Archy exclaims.
Helen's face hardens. Her hands tremble as she clasps them tightly in her lap.
But my heart feels calm, as if ice water runs in my veins instead of blood.
Because being surrounded by nearly twenty cars full of armed combat fighters dressed in black suit
Seriously? This is actually a world of mafia novel.
"How many guards do we have with us?" I ignore the three scared women and look at the driver.
He looks at me, surprised by my calm. He gulps dryly. "Twenty guards were supposed to be with us, but at the last moment, fifteen were sent on a mission. We have five guards in the car behind us."
Last-minute mission call…
My eyes narrow as I look outside. The attackers aren't approaching, but they have their guns pointed toward us.
The man who seems to be the leader has a long scar on his left cheek, a tall and muscular body that screams years of combat experience.
Steel-black eyes and a buzz cut. A spotless black suit with a neatly tucked white shirt. The gaze of a silent predator.
There's only one man who fits that description.
Thomas Ivanov.
In the novel, he was Ophelia's right-hand man, the unbreakable fortress that saved her from countless attacks and death threats… until Vincent betrayed her.
Ophelia found Thomas in a dark alley when she was ten years old, while she was being trained for the future.
Thomas was twenty, the black sheep of a local mob. Abused, filled with rage, desperate to survive—he was the perfect guard dog to train and use. So Ophelia took him under her wing. Raphael Blackwood knew but didn't interfere.
For the next four years, Thomas grew stronger within White Rose's 4th-ranked team before becoming captain of a thirty-fighter group.
Raphael thought it was harmless, but behind his back, Ophelia was building her power through Thomas.
Thomas handpicked orphans and abandoned illegitimate children of wealthy, powerful families. He trained them, fed them, educated them, and molded them into loyal soldiers for Ophelia.
Ophelia is twenty now. Which means it's been nearly ten years since she saved Thomas.
If he's here with his men—all wearing the small White Rose tattoo under their left ears—it means Raphael sent him.
As Thomas doesn't reveal himself as Ophelia's right hand until Ophelia took over the Blackwood family and White Rose Gang.
Suspicious… but I can learn the details later.
I roll down the window. Thomas's eyes remain calm and steady as he bows. Along with him, all the other men bow their heads.
Helen, Archy, and Lia stare at me in shock and terror.
Thomas whistles, and the cars start parting to the side, clearing a smooth road ahead.
He takes long strides toward me, his head still respectfully lowered. "Young Miss, Boss sent us to escort you safely. We received intel that assassins were after Mrs. Nathaniel and her daughters. We've disarmed five of them, but no risk can be taken."
Helen's eyes widen. "What did you say? Assassins?"
Lia and Archy start trembling, covering their mouths.
"Who were they?" I ask Thomas.
He dips his head closer, whispering just loud enough for me to hear. "Wolf Cub."
Wolf Cub…
My eyes widen. My head snaps toward him. "Are you sure?"
He nods.
Wolf Cub. That's Kayros's nickname within the mafia.
Kayros sent assassins to kill his stepmother and sisters… while they were with me.
Fuck. This could have started a gang war. Everyone would have suspected the Blackwoods if I came out safely after something happened to Helen and her daughters.
A chill runs down my spine.
And something close to terror settles deep in my chest.
Because.... I fucking underestimated what Kayros can do to me...