Chapter 2 The Morning After

The bed was cold when Seraphina woke up.

She blinked against the sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sheer curtains fluttering like ghosts. For a moment, she forgot where she was. The massive room was too still, too silent, too unfamiliar.

Then it hit her-

The wedding.

The vow.

The venom behind Zayden's words.

She was Mrs. Knight now.

In name only.

Seraphina sat up slowly, the silk sheets sliding off her bare shoulders. She hadn't even changed out of the dress last night-she'd fallen asleep curled on top of the covers, too stunned to move, too humiliated to cry.

He hadn't come back.

After slamming the door, Zayden hadn't returned. Not to argue. Not to explain. Not even to sleep beside the woman he had married.

You're here because your father ruined everything my family built...

You may carry my name, sleep in my bed, and wear my ring... but don't ever confuse that for love.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the ache in her chest. Anger threatened to surface, but it was buried under confusion and something worse-dread.

Sliding off the bed, Seraphina wandered into the bathroom. The mirror didn't lie. Her lipstick was smudged. Her lashes clung together from last night's tears. Her hair, once perfect, was falling apart just like everything else.

She turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face, as if it would wash away the sting of reality.

When she emerged from the suite, the hallway outside was dim and silent. Ornate portraits lined the walls-ancestors in oil paint, all with the same cold, patrician bone structure. Knights, every one of them.

She descended the stairs slowly, her fingers grazing the bannister. Every surface of the estate gleamed-polished marble, gold accents, heavy chandeliers-but it felt more like a museum than a home.

A woman waited at the bottom of the staircase.

Sharp eyes. Sleek chignon. A string of pearls that looked more like armor than jewelry.

"Good morning, Mrs. Knight," the woman said with a tight smile. "I trust you slept... well."

Seraphina stopped in her tracks. She hadn't expected company-certainly not this early, and not from a woman who looked like she ran a kingdom.

"You must be...?"

"Genevieve Knight," she said. "Zayden's mother."

Of course she was.

Seraphina swallowed. "It's nice to meet you."

Genevieve looked her up and down like she was inspecting a vase someone had gifted her-and she didn't like it.

"My son has... unusual taste," she said with a dismissive wave. "But I suppose we all make compromises, don't we?"

Seraphina stiffened.

This wasn't a welcome. It was a warning.

"I didn't realize you lived here," Seraphina said carefully.

"I don't," Genevieve replied, brushing invisible lint off her blouse. "But I wasn't going to miss seeing the woman my son decided to shackle himself to."

Seraphina clenched her hands at her sides.

"I assume Zayden left early?" she asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"Oh, darling," Genevieve said with a half-laugh. "He didn't leave. He never came home."

Seraphina's heart stuttered in her chest.

"He doesn't usually spend nights here unless it's necessary. The estate is just for appearances-galas, family dinners, charity events. Zayden prefers his own space downtown."

She turned to leave, but not before adding, "Enjoy your breakfast. The staff have been instructed to treat you like family. For now."

When Genevieve was gone, Seraphina stood there in the grand hall, breath shallow, nerves fraying.

She wasn't just unwanted by Zayden.

She was unwanted by all of them.

The house, the marriage, the name-none of it belonged to her. She was a placeholder. A symbol. A Blake wrapped in white satin, here to settle a blood debt she didn't understand.

But if they thought she'd quietly disappear into the background, they didn't know her at all.

If this marriage was a battlefield, she'd stop acting like a casualty.