SERAPHINA
Sunlight stabbed straight into my skull like a knife.
I groaned, head pounding from last night's drinks, and tried to roll over—only to feel a heavy arm wrapped possessively around my waist, warm and solid.
What the hell?
My eyes flew open. The room was wrong. Too masculine, too neat, sheets a crisp gray instead of my ivory silk. And the body beside me…
Noah Callaghan.
His face was inches from mine, dark lashes resting against his cheeks, chest rising and falling steadily. My head had been pillowed on his chest. His arm curled around me like I belonged there.
Shock cut through the hangover fog. I shoved him with every ounce of strength I had.
Noah tumbled off the bed with a startled yelp, hitting the floor hard. His eyes snapped open, wide with panic.
I sat up fast, the room spinning. "What the fuck are you doing in my house? In my bed?"
He scrambled to his feet, hair messy, cheeks flushed. "Seraphina, I swear—I didn't know—this isn't your room—"
"Answer me!" I jabbed a finger at him, voice shaking with fury. "Why the hell are you here?"
The door swung open before he could stutter another word.
Mrs. Dawn entered first, calm and efficient. Right behind her came my father, still in his morning robe, coffee cup in hand.
Father glanced at Noah, then at me, completely unfazed. "Ah. I see you've met our new guest."
"Guest?" My voice rose sharply. "This is my house. He cannot be here. Get him out. Now."
Father took a slow sip of coffee. "Noah is my guest, Seraphina. He will not be leaving. The sponsorship agreement includes residence. It's already settled."
I stared at him, disbelief turning into pure rage. "He put his hands on me! While I was asleep!"
Father's gaze flicked to Noah, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, then back to me. "If you hadn't come home drunk and wandered into the wrong room, that wouldn't have happened." His tone was mild, almost bored. "Perhaps next time you'll show better judgment."
The words landed like a slap. Heat flooded my face.
Without another word, I stormed out, bare feet slapping against the marble. I didn't stop until I reached my own room, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.
Then I let loose.
I grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it against the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crash. A perfume bottle followed. A stack of books. My hands shook as I swept an entire row of skincare off the vanity, glass and creams scattering across the floor.
How dare he? How dare my father do this without a single warning? Move that pathetic scholarship boy into our house like some charity project he suddenly cared about? What was so special about Noah Callaghan that the man who barely noticed I existed would rearrange our lives for him?
I didn't hear the door open until warm arms wrapped around me from behind.
Mrs. Dawn.
I stiffened, ready to shove her away, but the fight drained out of me just enough that I didn't. I stood rigid, chest heaving, letting her hold me while I fumed.
"Deep breaths, Miss Seraphina," she murmured gently. "This isn't the end of the world."
"It feels like it," I whispered through gritted teeth.
She didn't argue. She just held on.
NOAH
The second Seraphina stormed out, the air in the room felt too thin.
I turned to Mr. Voss, heart slamming against my ribs. "Sir, please… your daughter doesn't want me here. I should go back home. I don't want to cause any trouble."
Mr. Voss set his coffee down with deliberate calm. "Your leaving isn't up for discussion, Noah. Seraphina will calm down. She's simply… adjusting."
Adjusting. As if her rage was a minor inconvenience.
He left without another word, Mrs. Dawn trailing quietly behind him.
I stood frozen, listening to the distant crash of something breaking upstairs. Then another. And another.
She was going to kill me.
My breathing turned shallow and ragged. My chest tightened until it hurt. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
I stumbled into the attached bathroom, turned the shower on as hot as I could stand, and stood under the spray until my skin burned and the worst of the shaking eased. By the time I dressed in fresh clothes from the closet (someone had already unpacked everything), I still felt like I was walking toward my own execution.
Downstairs, the dining room was brighter and grander than anything I'd ever seen. Sunlight poured through tall windows onto a long mahogany table set with silver, crystal, and more food than my mom and I ate in a week: fresh fruit platters, pastries, eggs Benedict, smoked salmon, pancakes stacked high with berries.
Mr. Voss was already seated at the head. He nodded toward the chair to his right. "Sit, Noah."
I sat, staring at the plate in front of me. It looked like a magazine spread.
Footsteps clicked on the marble.
Seraphina entered wearing a silk robe, hair still damp from her shower, eyes red-rimmed but sharp. She glanced at me, and her lips curved into a slow, cruel smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Good morning, Father," she said sweetly, sliding into the seat across from me. Then her gaze slid to me. "Good morning, Noah. I'm so sorry about this morning. I must have startled you."
The apology was ice wrapped in velvet. Every word dripped with warning.
I couldn't speak. I just nodded, staring down at my untouched plate while my stomach twisted into knots.
Mr. Voss picked up his fork as if nothing had happened. "Now that everyone's here, let's eat. We have a busy week ahead."
Seraphina's smile never wavered.
But under the table, her foot brushed deliberately against my ankle—once, twice—hard enough to sting.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.