THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
"I'll be sleeping in the guest room." Lucian's voice was steady as he leaned against the bedroom doorframe, his eyes tracking Sera's movements across the room. She was already dressed in a simple cotton shirt and shorts, moving with a quiet confidence that caught him off guard. A flicker of something sharp—disappointment, maybe—crossed his face before he could hide it; he'd wanted to help her change, to feel the weight of fabric against her skin again. But even blind, she'd managed on her own. She was adapting faster than he'd thought possible.
"Okay… don't turn off the light, will you?" Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Yeah, sure." With a slight smirk, he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.
His gaze drifted down the hall to where a door had just slammed—hard enough to make the walls vibrate. His expression hardened as he walked toward it. He knew Shein well enough to guess she was gearing up for trouble; when it came to him, she always was.
He rapped sharply on the wood, and it swung open within seconds. Shein stood there in black lace lingerie, her body angled to catch the hall light—every line of her deliberate, calculated to draw his eye.
"What are you planning now? Can't you just leave me be, Shein?" His tone was cold, cutting through her act like a knife.
But she only looped her arm through his, nails digging into his bicep hard enough to leave marks. "Oh Lucian, come on. I've loved you for years—you know that. No one else will ever get you the way I do."
He let out a short laugh, empty of warmth. "And I've told you just as many times—I don't see you like that. You're family. Like a sister." His eyes narrowed, searching her face. "Is it the money? The name? Or is your father pushing you again?"
She shook her head frantically, hair flying across her shoulders. "No! I'm doing this because I love you! Can't you see? I've never even looked at anyone else—I waited for you! Don't push me away like this—"
"Enough!" He pulled his arm free, jaw tight with frustration. "I'm married. Contract or not, that's how it is." He clicked his tongue, his voice sharp. "Don't make yourself look foolish. Do you want people whispering about you being a mistress?"
"What?! You can't be serious—are you going to introduce her as your wife? What about everything we—"
His stare turned lethal, quieting her mid-sentence.
"And if I do? Who are you to stop me?" He paused, his voice softening just enough to carry weight. "The only reason you're still here is because of my grandmother—and because I still have respect for you." He turned his back on her, heading for the stairs. "Go home tomorrow. Staying here won't get you anything."
Shein's hands curled into fists as she watched him walk away. With a snarl, she kicked the door hard, wood splintering under her heel.
"Fuck you, Lucian!" Her eyes blazed as she pictured the wife she'd yet to meet. "This is her fault! She's the reason I'm back to nothing!" She tugged at her hair until it stung, then slumped onto the bed, seething.
"Just you wait, you bitch! When he's not around, I'll make you beg to get out of this house!" She grabbed her phone and dialed a number, voice sharp with fury.
"Hey, Ace!"
The man on the other end laughed, rough and casual. "Whoa—you sound like you're ready to burn something down. Spit it out, I'm swamped."
She rolled her eyes. "What's Lucian's schedule tomorrow?"
"Schedule? I'm not his assistant—"
"You know exactly what I'm asking! Does he have plans or not?!"
"…Yeah. Him and Madam are out all day." He hung up without another word.
A wide grin spread across her face, vicious and bright. "Lucian won't be home. Neither will Mrs. Cathy." She cackled, clapping her hands together. "Oh God, you do love me after all!"
-
Sera woke to warmth on her face—the sun streaming through the window, even though her eyes were open to nothing but dark. She let out a short, bitter laugh, pressing her palm to her eyelids. She'd forgotten again.
She sat up and stretched, the sheets soft and cool beneath her. They were so comfortable she almost wanted to pretend none of this had happened—just yesterday, her own parents had counted out cash in front of her, trading her like she was nothing more than property. Now she was bound to a contract that promised safety, but she couldn't shake the fear that it was all too good to be true.
"Lord, I trust you know what you're doing. There has to be a reason for all this." She whispered it to the quiet room, still perched on the edge of the bed.
"I'll take care of you, Seraphina."
"Shit!" She jolted, letting out a sharp cry. His voice was close—deep, husky, and somehow both soothing and infuriating all at once.
"Are you a creep, Lucian? What are you doing in here?!" She frowned, turning her head to find the direction of his voice, hands braced on the mattress.
"Hardly. There's nothing interesting to look at in here anyway." His tone was playful, and she found herself wondering how she could tell—his voice was usually so flat, save for when he laughed. Maybe her hearing had sharpened since she'd lost her sight.
"Hey—are you saying I'm not pretty?" She pouted, even though she couldn't see his face.
"Hmm… you're right. I guess I am."
She rolled her eyes. If she could see him, she'd have slapped him by now. "Why are you even here?"
"To help you. Obviously. You're still getting used to things—moving around alone won't be easy."
She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "You sound almost nice saying that. It's not like you to do something you don't want to."
He chuckled softly. "I don't have a choice. Besides, I'll be leaving later. Won't get to 'see' your face for a while."
Her brow furrowed, a pang of unease settling in her chest. "You're leaving?"
"Yeah—"
"Shit!" She yelped as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. She hadn't heard him move an inch—he was quiet as a ghost.
She waved her hand in front of her, trying to guess where he stood. But instead of hitting air or his arm, her palm connected with something hard… thick… firm.
She swallowed hard, her face burning hot. There was only one part of a man's body that felt like that.
"All of these is giving me headache." Her voice cracked slightly as she tried to steady herself, her hand still resting there without thinking.
"It hasn't even been a week, and you're already ready to take it in your mouth?" His voice was low, teasing—and she felt the thing under her hand twitch, growing harder.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about—" She gasped, then pulled her hand back as if burned, swatting at empty air. "Stop it! You're so crude! This isn't part of our contract!"
She heard him laugh, then suddenly felt strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her off the bed. She clung to his shoulders tightly, heart racing against her ribs.
"W-What are you doing?!"
"It's faster this way."
She fell silent as his scent washed over her—clean soap, something woodsy, and a hint of smoke that was surprisingly addictive. True to his word, he carried her to the bathroom and showed her small notches he'd carved into the walls—marks to guide her to the sink, the toilet, the shower when he wasn't there.
Sera had no intention of being a burden. Even with the contract promising care, she couldn't bring herself to trust it completely. She'd seen how quickly people could turn—her own family had sold her for less than a year's worth of groceries, after all.
"Hmm… this one will look good on her." She heard him murmur from beside her. She stood in just her underwear, having dressed herself again—grateful her skin was even and warm, no scars to make her self-conscious. The only thing she'd noticed was how long her hair had gotten; she'd need to find someone to wax it soon.
"It's hot out—sleeveless might be better—"
"I don't wear stuff like that." She cut him off firmly. "Just a simple t-shirt and shorts is fine."
"I see… then this it is."
She sighed as she felt him step closer, his hand brushing her shoulder. "Lift your arm."
She did as he said, grumbling under her breath. "You're treating me like a kid."
"Would you rather wear your shirt backwards?" He pointed out, and she had to admit he was right—she'd done that twice already.
She let him dress her, feeling a strange flutter in her stomach as his fingers brushed her skin. It was only their second day together, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to shift—that she needed to stay alert, even if she didn't know what she was watching for.
"Let's go." He took her right hand, his fingers wrapping around hers—calloused and rough, nothing like the soft hands she'd expected from a rich man. She moved with more confidence now, knowing he was there to guide her.
As they walked, she traced the lines on his palm with her thumb—scars crisscrossing over hard skin. He was wealthy enough to avoid any kind of work that would wear his hands like this. Why did they look so worn?
"I wonder why…" she whispered to herself.
"What do you want to know?"
She jumped—she hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud. "N-Nothing!"
"I see… watch your step. Stairs ahead."
She nodded, focusing on taking slow, careful steps down. Then a voice cut through the quiet of the house—sharp, loud, and full of anger.
"What the fuck, Lucian? You married a blind woman?!"