Los Angeles, California

Hacienda Parrow

Sebastian Parrow carried guilt in his chest the way other men carried breath. It sat heavy, unshakable, pressing into his ribs day after day. He lived with it, woke with it, and went to bed with it. Even on days when the sun climbed high and warm light spilled into the gardens of the Parrow estate, the weight never left him.

That Saturday had been meant for joy. He and his father had worked for months preparing an event that would introduce a new line of Parrow wines. It was not just a business triumph, not just another addition to their legacy.

For Sebastian, it had been personal. He wanted to dedicate it to his mother, to see her eyes shine with pride as he stood beside his father and proved himself worthy of the Parrow name.

But destiny was cruel. The night that should have ended with champagne toasts and laughter ended in blood. A drunk driver lost control of his car, and the crash shattered the Parrow family forever. The vehicle was completely wrecked and his parents died instantly, while Sebastian was the only one who survived.

At first, he thought survival was a blessing. Then the doctors spoke the words that ended his world.

He would never see again.

The bruises healed, the cuts faded, but the blindness was permanent. Darkness claimed him completely.

He remembered screaming in the hospital bed, tearing at the sheets, begging for someone to tell him it wasn’t true. But no one could. He had lost his parents and his sight in one night. His world ended there.

Yet in that darkness, there had been one figure who stayed. Maria. His fiancée. His childhood sweetheart. The girl who had promised forever. She held his hand, whispered comfort, promised him that nothing had changed. That she would love him the same way. That she would guide him through the shadows.

He had believed her.

Now, months later, Sebastian sat in the wide garden of Hacienda Parrow. The estate was as grand as ever, but it felt like a tomb. The air was too still, the silence too sharp. The roses bloomed in neat rows, filling the air with their fragrance, but he could not see their beauty anymore. He only knew them by scent, and sometimes he wondered if even that was fading.

He sat at the dining table, upright as always, refusing to let blindness rob him of dignity. His other senses had sharpened. He knew when someone approached even before they spoke.

“Mr. Parrow, your breakfast,” a maid’s timid voice announced.

He gave a small wave of his hand, allowing her to place the tray. He could feel her hesitation, the way her eyes lingered but avoided his face, the pity she tried to mask.

“Anything else, sir?” she asked cautiously.

“Out,” he ordered flatly.

She hurried away. He reached for the coffee cup, his fingers steady despite the blackness that filled his world. He lifted it to his lips, savoring the bitter heat. He had always liked strong coffee, and that hadn’t changed. It was the one small comfort he allowed himself.

Then he heard it.

The sound of wheels scraping over stone. A suitcase.

He set the cup back on the tray, his brows furrowing.

“Sebastian…” Maria’s voice carried into the quiet. It was shaky, uncertain, and it made his chest tighten.

“What is it?” he asked softly. He tried to keep his tone gentle, afraid that his temper might push her away.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

Fear flashed through him. “Leaving? Are you traveling? Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice carried a mix of confusion and frustration. She knew he depended on her. She knew he needed her.

“No, Sebastian.” Her words came harder, sharper. “I’m leaving you.”

The air left his lungs. His heart thudded painfully. “What?”

“I can’t do it anymore,” Maria whispered. “I thought I could stay. I thought I could live like this. But I can’t.”

He stood abruptly, his hand reaching into the darkness, searching for her. “What have I done? Tell me. If it’s something I said—”

She cut him off with a cruel laugh. “Do you want to know the truth?”

“Yes!” His voice cracked with desperation.

“You’re blind, Sebastian. That’s the truth. You may be rich, you may be handsome, but I cannot spend my life tied to a man who will never see me again. I can’t be the woman who leads a blind man through every day.”

Her words hit like a knife to the chest. His body went rigid.

“You told me it didn’t matter,” he whispered, his voice breaking into anger. “You swore!”

“As if I care anymore!” Maria snapped. “Do you know what people say about me? They say I am pathetic and that I am wasting my life. I will not be the shame of my family, and I refuse to be the woman people whisper about. I’m not going to marry you.”

The sound of metal hitting wood echoed as she dropped the engagement ring on the table.

His heart cracked. He stumbled forward, searching blindly. “No. Maria, please. Don’t do this. We are days away from our wedding. You wanted this. You begged me to marry you, and now you throw it away?” His voice rose, desperate and raw. “I will give you everything. Anything you ask for. The wedding of your dreams. The life you wanted. I will put the world at your feet. Please, Maria, don’t walk away.”

Her footsteps moved, the sound cutting deeper than her words.

“Maria!” He lunged forward without his cane. His foot caught the chair leg, and he crashed to the ground, his palms scraping against stone. Pain shot through him, but he barely felt it. He reached out toward her voice, broken, pleading. “Maria, don’t leave me. Please. I can’t lose you too.”

She hesitated only for a second before her voice cut through his hope. “We can’t turn back time, Sebastian. I won’t waste my youth next to a man who doesn’t even know which way to walk.”

Then her heels clicked against the stone, moving farther away, until they disappeared completely.

“Maria!” His scream carried across the garden, raw and agonized, but she never looked back.

Sebastian’s childhood friend, Leandro, heard the crash of porcelain and hurried into the garden. He froze at the sight before him. Sebastian was on the ground, his cane tossed aside, his strong frame bent over as if the weight of the world had finally crushed him.

The expression on Sebastian’s face was a portrait of ruin. His eyes, once alive with fire and pride, stared blankly into the nothingness that now defined his life. His jaw was clenched so tightly the muscle trembled, and his lips parted in a soundless cry, caught between rage and heartbreak. Every line of his body radiated pain, disappointment, and disgust—disgust not just for Maria but for himself, for daring to believe she would stay.

Leandro’s heart ached. He had known Sebastian since they were boys, had seen him fight, laugh, win, and rise to every challenge. But this man on the ground was not the friend he knew. This was someone hollow, stripped of warmth, love, and even pity.

“Let me help you,” Leandro said gently, stepping closer, extending a hand.

“Leave me alone!” Sebastian roared, his voice jagged and raw. He shoved blindly at the air until he felt Leandro’s arm and pushed it away with a violent jerk.

Leandro hesitated. “What happened?”

The answer came in a broken, bitter cry. “She left me! Maria left me!”

Leandro closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. He had always suspected Maria’s affection was shallow, but he had never expected her to be this cruel. “She doesn’t deserve you, buddy,” he said firmly. “Let me help you up.”

“Damn the moment I lost my sight!” Sebastian shouted, his voice cracking as it echoed through the empty garden. He dug his nails into his palms until the skin threatened to break. “If I still had my eyes, she would be here. She would still want me.”

Leandro stood helplessly, listening to the way Sebastian’s voice shook, the way anger barely held back a flood of grief. His friend’s pride was crumbling, and all he could do was watch.

Sebastian clawed at the table beside him, gripping it tightly until his knuckles whitened. With effort, he pulled himself to his feet. His breath came hard, like a man barely containing the beast inside him. And then, with one sudden, furious motion, he swept his arm across the surface, knocking plates, cups, and cutlery to the ground. The crash of shattering porcelain rang out like thunder, sharp and final.

“She’s not worth it, Sebastian. You’re only hurting yourself,” Leandro said carefully, his voice low, as though speaking too loudly might push his friend further into despair.

“No woman is worth it!” Sebastian’s voice trembled with rage, though beneath it was something deeper, darker. “I swear, I will never have feelings for any woman again. They are all the same. Liars, betrayals and selfish to the core.” His hands shook as he gripped the edge of the ruined table, his knuckles pressing into the wood. “Never again.”

In the days that followed, Sebastian’s transformation was swift and merciless. Gone was the man who once smiled easily, who once carried warmth even in his arrogance. What remained was a shell—cold, expressionless and ruthless. He became sharper in darkness than he ever was in light. And through it all, Leandro stayed. He managed the estate’s affairs, ensured Sebastian’s empire continued to thrive, and stood as the only anchor in a life that had spiraled into bitterness.

***

One afternoon, as the car wound its way back toward the Parrow estate, Leandro slowed to a stop on a quiet street.

“Sebastian,” he said cautiously.

“What is it?” Sebastian’s voice was calm, too calm, his expression unreadable.

“I need to repay a debt. Just a quick matter. I promise it won’t take long.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “You know I hate waiting.”

“I know,” Leandro sighed. “Just five minutes. I’ll park here. It’s safe.”

“The clock is already ticking,” Sebastian warned, leaning back against the seat.

Leandro gave a small, nervous laugh before opening the door and stepping out, leaving Sebastian alone in the back seat.

The silence pressed in on him. He could hear the faint hum of the engine, the ticking of the cooling metal under the sun. He settled into the familiar cocoon of darkness, focusing on the faint sounds beyond the car—distant footsteps, a dog barking, the rustle of leaves.

Then, suddenly, the back door opened.

Sebastian stiffened. “Leandro?” His tone was sharp, cold, already suspicious.

There was no answer.

“I do not want any pathetic surprises for my birthday,” he said irritably.

Still, silence.

And then it hit him. A fragrance drifted into the car, subtle at first but impossible to ignore. It was sweet and floral, carrying the delicate essence of roses, and the moment it reached him his entire body reacted. His senses sharpened instantly, and every nerve within him stood on high alert.

He gripped his cane tightly, every muscle coiled with tension. “Who are you?” His voice was a command, heavy and unforgiving.

For a moment there was only silence, broken by uneven breathing. Then came a soft, trembling whisper.

“Help me…”

The sound pierced through him. It was a woman’s voice, delicate but laced with fear. A voice so fragile it could shatter.

Sebastian’s heart thudded hard as he tightened his grip on the cane, caught between the warning in his gut and a strange feeling he thought had died the day Maria left him.

“Please help me…”

“Who are you?” Sebastian demanded, his voice sharp and cutting through the quiet. His hand tightened around his staff. Nobody approached him without permission. Nobody touched him without his consent. And yet, here she was, moving closer, silent, unannounced, and utterly unafraid.

He could hear her breathing, soft, steady, and strangely calm. It should have been soothing, but it only made him more impatient. He hated being blind. He hated the helplessness that came with it. He hated that he could not see her, could not measure the threat, could not read the truth of who she was.

“Speak!” His voice rose, deep and furious, echoing against the walls. “Answer me! Do you know who you are dealing with?”

There was no answer. Only the soft rustle of her clothing as she shifted slightly. He took a cautious step forward, hand outstretched, feeling his way toward her. His fingertips brushed her skin. The softness under his hand, the warmth, sent a jolt through him, unwelcome and unwarranted. He scolded himself instantly. Perhaps she had been sent to harm him. Perhaps she was a trap.

“Do not think you can fool me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tighter than he intended. “Do not think you can simply be here without consequence.”

Before he could consider it further, the car door slammed open.

“Happy birthday… Shit!” Leandro exclaimed, his eyes widening in alarm as they fell on the woman in the backseat. She was beautiful, unconscious, and entirely unexpected. His voice faltered, uncertain how to handle the situation.

“Wretched! How dare you search for a woman?” Sebastian snapped, his words sharp as knives. “I told you I do not want to celebrate this day. You think you can decide for me? You think you can cross me?”

Leandro glanced around quickly. Men lingered nearby, some shifting uncomfortably, their eyes flicking from him to Sebastian. He climbed into the car and locked the doors behind him, his movements careful but determined.

“What is happening?” Sebastian demanded, his tone low and deadly. “If this woman was not sent by you, remove her. I do not want her here. I abhor her presence.”

“She is hurt,” Leandro said softly, leaning closer. “I think you should let me help. She is not here to harm you.”

“I said no!” Sebastian’s voice cracked with frustration. “She will not enter my space. I will not have her near me. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Leandro replied calmly, though his eyes were firm. “But even the strongest men need help sometimes. Let me handle this. Let me take her home. She will be safe, and you will not have to see her.”

Sebastian’s teeth clenched. He wanted to argue, to refuse, to push back, but even as he opened his mouth, the words died in his throat. The rose scent lingering in the air was overwhelming, intoxicating. It made his chest tighten and his mind wander. He hated it and yet could not ignore it.

“Please,” Leandro pressed, placing a hand gently on Sebastian’s arm. “I am not asking for permission. I am asking as your brother. Let me manage this. I promise you will not have to be involved.”

Sebastian closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He wanted to reject him. He wanted to shove him away and insist on his solitude. But he also knew Leandro was right. She was here. He could not pretend otherwise. The soft warmth, the faint sound of her breath, it was impossible to ignore.

The car slowed as the hacienda gates opened. The heavy iron bars groaned as they slid along the tracks. Sebastian’s muscles tensed instinctively. Home. The place he had controlled for years. The place where the shadows were predictable. The place where everything moved according to his rules.

“Now,” Leandro said softly, “do you want me to help you with this woman?”

Sebastian’s hand tightened around the staff, knuckles whitening. “I do not… I do not want her near me. But take her if you must. Understand this: if I ever smell her again, if I ever sense her presence near me, you will regret it.”

Leandro’s lips curved slightly in a small, teasing smile as he pressed a gold keychain into Sebastian’s hand. A tiny wine bottle charm swung from it. “Take it. Consider it a gesture. Nothing more. Please.”

Sebastian scowled, begrudgingly taking the keychain. “I will take it because you insist. But do not involve me. I will not forgive mistakes.”

He pushed the car door open and stepped out. The night air of the hacienda wrapped around him, cool and heavy, brushing against his face. Silence hung like a curtain, both comforting and oppressive. Inside, however, chaos churned.

Years of order, control, and careful planning had built walls around him. Tonight, those walls shook. The scent, the sound, the presence of her stirred something he had buried deep. Something he had not allowed to exist for years. Memories of Maria rose unbidden. The little ways she had eased his life, her attentiveness, her subtle care. Then her leaving. Her absence. Leaving him to believe he was nothing but a burden.

He walked inside, every step deliberate. Each creak of the floorboards, each echo of his own voice reminded him of all he had lost. Yet the memory of her presence lingered. The unknown, the danger, the scent followed him, wrapped around him, refusing to let go.

He reached the kitchen, throat dry, restless. Water. He needed water. Yet the glasses were not where he expected. Each movement required careful thought. Even his own home felt unfamiliar and invaded.

Leandro’s voice, calm and protective, floated through his mind. “I will make sure nothing happens. She will be safe.”

Sebastian took a glass and drank slowly, letting the cool liquid soothe his parched throat. Still, the tension remained. He could not shake it. Not tonight. Not while shadows from past and present collided in his mind.

He walked to the living room and paused, letting the quiet sink in. His hands itched to move, to do something, anything, to regain control. Yet all he could do was breathe and listen to the subtle shifts in the house. Every small sound made him flinch. Every scent, every rustle reminded him that nothing would ever feel normal again.

***

The air in the room felt heavy, unfamiliar, almost suffocating. Anastasia Parker’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment she had no idea where she was. Her head throbbed with a sharp pulse, and a dizzy weight pressed down on her chest.

Her legs wobbled beneath her as if the floor might give way, and she tried to sit up. The sudden motion made the world spin, and she fell back onto the soft surface beneath her, gasping.

Her breath came in shallow, quick bursts, and she pressed her hands against her chest, trying to calm the panic that had already taken root. She strained to remember how she had ended up here. The nightclub, the bright lights, the music, the money, the endless nights, everything felt blurred together, like a bad dream she could barely grasp.

Then her mind hit the sharp edge of memory of the man. The one who had come too close, the one whose hands had tried to take control of her body, the one who had injected her with that drug. A cold, sharp fear sliced through her, sharper than ice. She had run. Somehow, she had run, stumbling through dark streets, alleyways, and shadows until she collapsed into the first car she could find.

And now, here she was.

A figure moved slowly across the room, and her heart skipped a beat. She froze, barely daring to breathe. The man was tall, impossibly tall and his presence filling the room even without a word. Each step he took was measured, slow, confident, and terrifying all at once.

Anastasia pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to quiet the panic rising inside her. She had never seen a man like him. His face was sharp, sculpted, almost unreal in its perfection. His expression was distant, cold, commanding, and yet somehow magnetic.

He did not speak, but the room seemed to lean toward him, like the air itself recognized his authority.

Her stomach tightened, her legs quivering beneath her. She wanted to run, to hide, to vanish completely, but some invisible force held her in place. She watched him, every small motion amplified in her mind.

She thought he might notice her, claim her presence or probably demand answers she did not have. And yet, he did not. He passed her without a word, and she realized with a sudden, shaky breath that he could not see her.

He was blind.

The thought both terrified and fascinated her. Her hands fell slowly from her face, but her fingers still trembled. She rose carefully, silent as a shadow, taking a few tentative steps behind him. Her heart thumped so hard it felt like it might burst through her ribs, yet she could not stop herself from following him.

There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled her in even as every instinct screamed at her to run.

The man stopped suddenly at the entrance of the kitchen. Anastasia’s breath caught in her throat. He moved as if he had sensed her. She could feel it in the tension of his posture, in the tilt of his head and the shift of his weight.

Her body froze. She did not dare to breathe. Her pale face betrayed nothing of the storm inside her, but her hands were cold and sweaty. Her legs shook like jelly. She swallowed hard, forcing the tight lump in her throat to move.

“What are you doing in my house?” His voice rolled through the room, deep, rich, and commanding. Each word struck her chest like a hammer.

Panic surged again. She pressed her hands over her mouth, trembling violently, and instinctively stepped back. Her eyes studied him, memorizing the firm set of his shoulders, the slow, deliberate movements, the calm authority radiating from him.

He turned his head slightly, tilting it, as if sensing her through the smallest movement and the slightest sound. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, but fascination held her frozen. He advanced with measured, confident steps, and her knees nearly buckled beneath her.

“I… I—” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. Her mind raced, trying to find words that would not betray her fear. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, shallow breaths trembling against the tight knot in her stomach.

“Can’t speak?” The words were sharp, almost teasing, rolling off his tongue like a challenge.

"Has the cat got your tongue?”

The room was silent except for the faint sound of Anastasia’s uneven breathing. She froze the moment he stepped closer. His presence was overwhelming, almost magnetic, and she felt rooted to the spot.

“Has the cat got your tongue?” Sebastian’s voice was low and firm. He could smell her presence instantly, the faint trace of her perfume unmistakable.

Anastasia’s eyes widened in terror. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. No sound came out. Her heart pounded harder. She wanted to apologize, explain, beg, but her voice had betrayed her.

“I will call my escorts,” she said finally, her tone trembling slightly.

The threat of silence hung in the air, pressing down on her. Sebastian did not move. He waited, watching her.

“No, sir, please do not do that,” she said quickly, stepping closer, desperate to calm him. Her heart raced as her eyes met his bright blue ones. They were sharp, unyielding, impossible to ignore.

“I am not a bad person,” she added hurriedly. “I do not know why I am here. I only remember feeling unwell and then… passing out.”

Sebastian’s lips curled slightly. “Or maybe you are an imposter. Maybe all you want is money.”

“That is not true, sir!” Anastasia exclaimed, shaking her head. “I don’t even know how I got here. I did not come here to steal or cheat anyone. I promise, I meant no harm.”

She tried to step past him, but Sebastian’s hand shot out, gripping her arm firmly. She froze, her pulse spiking as fear and curiosity collided.

“Let me go, please!” she pleaded. Standing so close, she could see every sharp line of his face, every piercing detail of his eyes.

“What is your name?” His tone was sudden and demanding, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Why do you need to know my name, sir? Do you want to take me to prison?” she asked nervously.

“Answer!” he snapped, his blue eyes burning into hers.

“Anastasia Parker,” she said carefully. Then she added quickly, “Please let me go. I promise I will disappear immediately if you release me.”

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, observing her. “The sun has not risen yet, and my hacienda is far from town,” he said thoughtfully. “You are awake, and yet you stand here, unafraid. I want to know more about you.”

“I have faced worse things in my life,” she said softly, trying to steady herself. “But I really need to go home now. I cannot stay here.”

“Is your husband waiting for you?” he asked boldly, loosening his grip slightly.

“I… I do not have a husband, sir,” she said, her hands trembling. “I am not running away. I only wish to leave safely.”

“I do not trust anyone,” he said bluntly.

“You will have to,” she replied firmly, though her voice quivered. “Because you are hurting me.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. He disliked being ordered or challenged.

“What exactly are you doing here?” he demanded.

Anastasia hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. In her profession, she always wore a mask, hiding her true self. “I am a maid, sir,” she said cautiously, weaving a small lie. “But sometimes I do not have steady work. I need to leave now, if that is acceptable.”

Sebastian studied her closely. There was something strange in her behavior, something he could not immediately place.

“I want to make you a proposition,” he said, and Anastasia felt her heart leap. Her mind raced with questions.

“You will pay me?” she asked cautiously, curiosity mingling with apprehension.

“I will pay you enough,” he said simply. “I am supposed to be married in two days, but I do not want questions. I need you to take the place of my ex-girlfriend.”

“What?!” Anastasia gasped, eyes wide with shock.

“You will earn a lot of money,” he continued. “Do you need it?”

“Yes, sir, but—”

“But nothing,” he interrupted sharply. “I need a concrete answer. Yes or no. Now.”

Anastasia hesitated. She needed money desperately. For her mother’s medications, for her daily survival. Maybe this man, this powerful stranger, could give her a lifeline. She swallowed her fear.

“Yes… I agree to be your substitute wife,” she said finally.

“You must be full-time for me,” he said sternly.

“Sir, please, I cannot,” she replied immediately, her hands pressed together nervously.

Sebastian’s silence was heavy, filled with implied disapproval. He wanted someone who could dedicate herself fully.

“But I want to do it,” she said quickly. “I only ask for a few hours off. The rest of the time, I will be available to you. Please give me this opportunity.”

“I will allow three hours off,” he said. “Everything else must be for me. What you see and hear is confidential. Do you accept this agreement?”

Anastasia nodded, her pulse racing. “I accept, sir. But… may I know your name?”

“Sebastian Parrow,” he said, as if it was obvious.

“Mr. Parrow, I promise you will not regret hiring me,” she said boldly, shaking his large hand with her small one. An electric jolt seemed to pass between them. She quickly withdrew her hand, cheeks burning.

“Be here at eight in the morning,” he said. “Do not be late. And while you are here, bring me a glass of water. Now.”

Anastasia’s eyes widened. He was commanding and intimidating, yet there was something magnetic about him. She exhaled and headed toward the kitchen, her mind racing.

The kitchen was huge and luxurious, unlike any place she had ever seen. She poured a glass of water, careful not to spill a drop, and carried it back to him.

“Here, Mr. Parrow,” she said, holding out the glass.

He took it with perfect precision, without a word of thanks, and walked slowly to his room. Anastasia watched him go, her heart racing and her mind swirling. A few words, a few moments with him, and she already felt a strange pull toward the powerful man.

For the first time in her life, she realized that the simplest interaction could ignite fear, curiosity, and admiration all at once.

***

The next morning, Sebastian Parrow could not shake a restless energy that clung to him from the moment he opened his eyes. He was a man who lived in control, who thrived on routine and certainty, but something about the deal he had made with Anastasia lingered at the edges of his thoughts. It made him uneasy, though he would never admit it aloud.

By the time the clock struck seven, he was already dressed, his valet having helped him into a charcoal suit that fit him as if it had been stitched to his frame. The faint scent of his cologne drifted in the air, sharp and clean, familiar to him by touch and repetition. With his cane in hand, he paced the living room, each tap against the polished marble floor echoing in the silence. The rhythm was steady, yet his movements betrayed an agitation he loathed.

He told himself he was not waiting for her. It was a transaction, nothing more. Still, when the silence stretched too long, his head tilted slightly, listening for footsteps that had not yet come.

Leandro strolled in, his usual unbothered presence filling the room. The sound of his shoes was casual, unhurried. Sebastian knew him well enough to picture him: shirt sleeves rolled, dark hair untidy, carrying an air of easy confidence that grated against Sebastian’s tightly wound composure.

“What are you doing here this early?” Leandro asked, amusement in his voice.

Sebastian’s jaw worked, but he did not answer right away. His fingers tightened on the silver handle of his cane.

Leandro chuckled softly. “Ah, I see. You’re waiting. For her.”

“I’m not waiting,” Sebastian replied flatly. His tone was firm, but the conviction was thinner than he intended.

Leandro moved closer. Sebastian could hear the faint brush of fabric and the light scuff of shoes against the floor. “Don’t bother denying it. You’re standing in your living room, dressed like a groom about to take vows. That doesn’t happen by accident.”

“You exaggerate,” Sebastian muttered.

“You deigned to appear before breakfast,” Leandro pressed, his words deliberately taunting. “And for Sebastian Parrow, who never stirs before the world bends to him, to be pacing with that cane like a caged wolf? There’s only one reason. Who is she? Or better yet, what mess have you stepped into this time?”

Sebastian adjusted his cufflinks, an unnecessary motion done out of habit more than need. “Her name is Anastasia. The intruder from last night. I offered her to be my wife.”

Leandro blinked, stunned into silence for a moment, then barked out a laugh. “You what?”

“If she doesn’t arrive by eight o’clock,” Sebastian continued, his tone clipped, “do not let her in.”

Leandro’s humor drained, replaced by disbelief. “Are you insane? You barely know this girl. You can’t just pull a stranger into your life and decide she’ll be your wife.”

Sebastian’s expression remained blank, his blind eyes fixed somewhere near Leandro’s voice. “I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” Leandro snapped. “You’re playing with fire. She’s not like the women you’ve toyed with before. She looks like a good girl, Sebastian. You could ruin her.”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian replied, voice sharp, cutting. “She will be useful to me for what I need.”

Leandro folded his arms, his frustration clear in the rough edge of his sigh. “Useful? She’s not a pawn on a chessboard. She’s a person. What exactly are you planning to do with her?”

“She will be my wife in name,” Sebastian said firmly, his cane clicking once against the marble as if to punctuate his words. “And she will be my chambermaid—the one who must do everything I tell her.”

Leandro shook his head, disbelief heavy in his voice. “You’re serious.”

“I do not joke about such matters.”

“That much is obvious,” Leandro muttered. He paced a step, then stopped, his voice lower but no less insistent. “This is madness.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “I am not asking for your opinion, Leandro.”

“You’re more bitter than a lemon, Sebastian,” Leandro said quietly. “I know what life did to you is cruel, but I hope this girl… I hope she finds a way to crack that stone heart of yours.”

“Never,” Sebastian said, voice like steel. “It’s dead.”

For a long moment, the two men stood in silence. Then Leandro let out a small laugh, the kind that came when he knew arguing further was useless. Yet behind his smile was something else—something softer. He had seen Anastasia yesterday. There was a quiet strength in her, one that Leandro suspected could shake even Sebastian.

Sebastian, of course, refused to entertain such foolishness. He turned slightly toward the window, his head angled as though he could see beyond it. In truth, he was listening to the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of a car and the ticking of the clock.

Though he had not eaten, his stomach twisted with a strange tension. He told himself again that it was only because he despised waiting. But deep down, something unspoken gnawed at him.

“You like this girl,” Leandro said suddenly, tone half-mocking, half-curious.

Sebastian turned toward the sound of his voice, his expression hard. “Don’t make foolish jokes.”

Leandro grinned, unbothered. “Then why do you look like a man awaiting judgment?”

Before Sebastian could answer, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Soft, steady steps approaching the living room. Both men turned their attention toward the door.

Anastasia stepped inside.

Sebastian couldn’t see her, but he heard the delicate fall of her steps, the faint rustle of her dress brushing against her legs as she moved further into the room. A faint current of air followed her, carrying her scent with it; a mixture of something sweet and flowery, soft yet distinct, like fresh petals after rain.

The air shifted with her presence, carrying something unfamiliar yet grounding.

Leandro’s gaze sharpened, taking her in. She was in a simple dress, hair falling softly, dignity in every line of her posture.

“Good morning, Mr. Parrow."