The Ceneric Mansion was cloaked in silence. The dining hall, once full of warmth and light, now sat under a dim silver hue, moonlight spilling through the tall arched windows like pale smoke. The chandeliers above, once radiant, now hung like frozen ghosts, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor.
I sat at the far end of the long dining table, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest. My fingers trembled beneath the table, my nails digging into my palm so hard they left marks. I didn't feel pain—just the suffocating weight of fear. The ticking of the antique clock echoed loud in the stillness, each second dragging like a lifetime.
Then came the voice that shattered it.
"Who was it, Mia? Was it Lucas?" Martin's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. His brow was furrowed, his eyes glowing with quiet fury. "Why did you meet him?"
The question was simple, but it hit harder than a slap.
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
Mikael leaned closer, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. "Do you think we're fools? Just tell us the truth, Mia Isabella."
"It… it was him," I said at last, my voice barely above a whisper. Half-truth. Half-lie.
Sorry, Lucas. Please… just cover for me this once.
"Oh?" it was Matteo this time, tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting with amusement. "Didn't you already agree to the annulment? Why meet him again? Regret it now?"
"No. We were just... finalizing the papers. That's all." I answered sharply and glared at him, the look screaming, 'Just shut up, Matteo.'
Martin's gaze narrowed. "Then what about the challenge? You mentioned a challenge. What was that?"
I turned to Mike, signaling for help but he only sat in silence beside me, arms folded across his chest, his eyes fixed on the floor. I couldn't read him at all.
"That… it was just part of my revenge," I mumbled. "The spicy ramen challenge."
"The spicy ramen challenge," Matteo repeated, before bursting into a sharp, mocking laugh. "Mia Isabella, who exactly were you trying to kill? Him? Yourself? Or both?"
"I didn't mean to…" I whispered again, trying to fake guilt. "It was just… a spur-of-the-moment thing. I didn't think it would actually hurt anyone."
"A spur of the moment?" Matteo snapped. "Didn't Mike or Alex already warn you not to eat spicy or greasy food? And you still did it anyway. Of course."
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, bowing my head. "I swear, I won't do it again."
"You'd better keep that promise," Mikael said coldly. "Because next time, I won't hesitate to deal with you using military discipline."
There it was—the threat. Of course, it had to come from Mikael. Who else would say something like that with a straight face?
Still… a small chill crawled down my spine.
Fine, you win this time. Let's retreat now, Mia…and plan for later.
"Alright," I said softly. "I promise."
***
The next morning, Martin kept his word. He gave orders to clean and reopen the studio room.
It was located on the second floor, right beside the guest room—something I had never known. I had only ever been to the third floor, so the rest of the mansion still felt like a mystery to me.
Downstairs, just outside the studio, Mike stood with Martin, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.
"Eldest brother…are you sure about this? What if she remembers something after stepping into that room?"
Worry clouded his face. He tried to stay calm, but the crease between his brows betrayed him.
Martin didn't hesitate. "If she does remember, let her. That way, she won't have to go through painful treatments to recover her memories."
"But—"
Martin turned to look at him. "Tell me, Mike. Why do you sound so hesitant?"
Mike hesitated, then looked away. "I think… I like her the way she is now. I'm afraid that if she remembers everything, she'll go back to how she used to be."
Martin nodded slowly, as if he'd been thinking the same thing. "I understand. I've thought about it too. But if she's going to change, it's better it happens now—before our bond gets even deeper. The longer we wait, the harder it'll be for all of us if things fall apart."
Mike leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Do you really think she'll change that much?"
"I don't know," Martin admitted. "Deep down, I hope she won't. But it's dangerous for her to walk around without knowing who's on her side and who isn't. The old Mia… yes, she had flaws. She could be harsh and proud, but at least she knew who to trust. She could tell right from wrong. Now… she's too open, too trusting. That scares me."
Mike sighed. "You're right. It does make sense."
The two brothers stood in silence, watching the servants open the heavy double doors of the studio. Dust spilled into the air like an old secret attic, floating in the sunlight that streamed through the tall windows. The staff members started to work as Grandpa Hugo led them.
After a while, Grandpa Hugo approached the two brothers, carrying something in his hands.
"Sir," he said respectfully, bowing slightly before Martin and Mike. "This drawing—what would you like us to do with it?"
Martin glanced at the rolled-up papers in Grandpa Hugo's hands. "Let me see," he said, reaching for them.
He unrolled the pages carefully, one by one. Each sheet revealed a sketch of the same man—sharp eyes, confident smile, familiar posture.
Nelson.
"It's him!" Mike snapped, his voice rising with anger. His expression shifted instantly, the calm on his face replaced by fury.
Martin's jaw tightened. His hand clenched the edge of one paper so tightly it began to crumple.
"Burn it," he ordered coldly. "Burn everything that might trigger Mia's memory of him. I don't want even a trace of that man left behind."
Grandpa Hugo bowed again, gently retrieving the sketches from Martin's grip. "As you wish, sir."
He turned and walked away swiftly, already giving quiet instructions to the nearby staff.
Martin remained still, his eyes fixed on the place where the drawings had been.
"I won't let the past ruin her again," he murmured, more to himself than to Mike.
***
Early in the morning, I was pulled out of my deep sleep by the sudden sound of a ringtone. Groaning softly, I fumbled around the bedside table with my eyes still shut, finally grabbing the phone.
"Hello?" I mumbled in a hoarse voice.
"Still not awake yet?" a gentle male voice hummed through the speaker, smooth and familiar.
"Caspian?" I blinked and squinted at the screen, confirming the name.
"It's me. Hi, Mia. How are you feeling this morning?"
"I'm fine. Really good, actually," I replied, a small, sleepy chuckle escaping my lips. My heart gave a tiny flutter.
"I guess I missed you a little. So I thought I'd call," he said, casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "You mentioned the amusement park for our next date. Is that still happening?"
Date?
This guy… he was so direct. My cheeks flushed pink as I buried my face into the pillow.
"Uh, how about tomorrow?" I asked, a bit too eagerly. "Are you free? If not, that's okay too…"
"I'm definitely free. I've been looking forward to seeing you again," he said warmly, like a gentleman straight out of a romance novel.
"Same here! I want to try all the extreme rides—the roller coaster, the Viking ride, everything!" I said, already picturing the wind in my hair and his laughter beside me.
"Just don't chicken out later," he teased, laughing softly—and oh no, his laugh was unfairly attractive. My ears felt like they were melting.
"Erm… see you tomorrow, Caspian," I said quickly, afraid I might burst from the happiness building inside me.
"I'll pick you up from your house?"
"DON'T!" I shouted instinctively, panic rising in my voice.
There was a pause. "Sorry for shouting…" I muttered quickly. "You don't have to come here. I'll just meet you at the mall, okay?"
He paused for a second, then chuckled. "Alright, as you wish. See you soon, Mia."
"See you, Caspian," I whispered, then ended the call and collapsed back on the bed, clutching the pillow to my chest.
My heart was thudding like crazy.
Was this what falling in love felt like?