The couple spent their days without seeing each other. It was as if they were two strangers living in the same space, but never close enough to meet. The wife was used to spending her days alone, while her husband worked and came home late. No one interfered with the other, and the distance between them widened. Tonight was no exception.
The night air in the Imperial Capital was heavy, thick with smoke from distant chimneys and the faint scent of burning wood. Inside a grand private dining room at one of the top hotels in the city, laughter and glasses clinking filled the space. The business dinner was supposed to be simple, just filled with talk, drinks, and smiles.
Reinhardt sat at the center table. He had barely touched his food. He hated these events, but they were necessary. His family's empire needed to keep its image strong.
A man in a gray suit sat beside him. Reinhardt eyed him cautiously. He did not bring his secretary tonight.
"You look tired, Lord Razalo," the man said smoothly, sliding a glass toward him. "Here. This will help."
Reinhardt didn't recognize the man, but the name tag read "Mavros Corp," one of the newer companies trying to gain favor with the Razalos.
He took the drink. It was bitter, but not unpleasant. Still, something about it tasted… wrong.
He blinked.
The lights started to spin. The voices around him became slower, blurred.
"...You okay?" someone asked.
Reinhardt stood up, gripping the edge of the table. His chest burned. His skin felt hot. Too hot. Sweat dripped down his temple. He couldn't think clearly. He tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy.
Damn it!
I fell for that bastard's trick!
He stumbled out without saying goodbye.
No one stopped him.
The car barely made it back to the mansion. The driver helped him into the front hallway, but Reinhardt shoved him off and waved him away. He didn't need help. Or so he thought.
The marble floors tilted beneath him. The walls shifted. He opened the door to the sitting room, where Aeliana sat reading a book under soft light.
Her head turned. "You're back ear..."
But he didn't wait for her to finish. His vision was blurry. His mind was filled with shadows, her face, her hair, and her voice. Everything felt familiar, soft, and sweet. He felt intoxicated like never before.
"Carmela?" he whispered, stepping closer.
Aeliana stood up slowly, her eyes narrowing. "It's me. Aeliana."
He didn't listen. He reached for her, hands rough, confused.
"Why did you leave me?" he murmured. "Why did you..."
She moved back.
He followed.
When his hand grabbed her wrist, she pulled away.
"Reinhardt! Stop it!"
But he didn't. The drug clouded his senses. Heat and anger mixed inside him, twisting memories and reality together. He grabbed her by the arms and pushed her against the wall.
"Carmela…" he whispered again, his voice desperate, broken.
That was the last straw.
Aeliana moved fast. With the instincts of a warrior kicking in, she freed her arms. Her knee came up, not to hurt, but to knock him off balance. Her elbow pinned his arm, and in two smooth moves, she had him face down on the floor, arms locked gently but firmly behind him.
It all happened in under ten seconds.
Reinhardt blinked, chest heaving. His body burned from the drug, but the cold floor shocked him back to awareness.
He couldn't move.
And Aeliana?
She knelt beside him, calm and focused. Her breathing was steady. Her eyes were clear. But her face was devoid of emotions.
"Listen to me," she said, her voice low and firm. "You are not in control right now. You've been drugged."
He stared at her, stunned.
"I'm not Carmela. And I'm not afraid of you. You need to keep yourself sane for the next couple of hours. Take care."
Slowly, she let go and stood up, giving him space. But he knew she pressed some acupoints in his body to keep him conscious. He rolled onto his back, shame crawling across his face like fire. His hands trembled, not from weakness, but from shock.
"What… what was that?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"I was trained," she said simply. "My father made sure I could protect myself."
He sat up, breathing hard, still confused. "Why would you know something like that?"
"Because I lived a life before this marriage," she said. "I wasn't always locked in a palace."
There was silence between them.
Finally, Reinhardt met her eyes.
She stared down at him, strong and calm, not scared at all. It was like he was facing a different woman. The woman was nothing like the person who took photos with him during the wedding, scrutinized by the crowd.
"Next time you try to touch me like that," she said, her voice soft but filled with a bone-chilling coldness, "don't expect me to be so gentle."
She walked past him, picking up the book she had dropped. "Don't mistake silence for weakness, Reinhardt."
He didn't reply. He just sat there, stunned. He was no longer under the influence of the drug, but he still asked the family's doctor for the drug's cure.
Later that night, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. His body still felt strange, but his mind was clearer now. He thought about the drug, the men at the dinner, the way his hands had moved without thinking, and her.
Aeliana.
Who are you?
She hadn't screamed when she faced a drugged grown man. She hadn't panicked when the man touched her. She had taken control, calmly, quickly, and without fear. For weeks, he had thought of her as just another doll, placed into his life to look pretty and stay quiet.
But tonight, he saw something different.
A spark.
A storm hidden under ice.
She had looked him in the eye, not like a stranger, but like someone who refused to be stepped on. She had warned him. And he had heard it.
For the first time since Carmela's death… he felt unsure of himself.
He didn't know who Aeliana truly was.
But now… he wanted to.
"Why did my grandmother choose her?"