It was still fresh in everyone's mind—the smell of smoke, the drench of warm blood dried in the marble, the ruins, the adrenaline, the tension and mystery, the flood of tears, the quiet shock that hung over them like a heavy blanket. Asher had been the first to suggest they all relocate to his place, but with his mansion swarming with guards, the idea was quickly dismissed. They couldn't risk drawing more fire to that location. Instead, they had spent those tense nights in the abandoned garden, sleeping cramped in the car, Lucien's wrists tied as a desperate precaution against his own reckless urges. None of them could forget it— but weeks had passed, and their lives, somehow, had begun to move forward again. Because whatever happens— accident or planned, life would never wait. It keeps running and it was their choice to run along and catch up or lag behind.
The weeks after Daniel's rescue blurred into a mix of construction noise, paperwork, and careful security briefings. What once stood as Lucien's sprawling, traditional estate was replaced by something entirely new—rebuilt in a secluded, forested valley far from the old grounds, with now camera's placed even outside the mansion with guards.
The new mansion wasn't just a home; it was a fortress disguised as a paradise. Its sleek white facade gleamed in the morning sun, surrounded by stone terraces that wrapped around the building like a protective embrace. But it was the back lawn that caught everyone's breath: a shimmering waterpark with two winding slides that splashed into a turquoise pool, a miniature playground with gleaming swings and a tiny climbing wall, and a polished basketball court where Lucien swore Daniel would one day "learn to crush people in sports as well as business."
Inside, every room spoke of calculated luxury. The black marble floors were polished to such a shine that they mirrored the light streaming in from the windows, cool and smooth beneath bare feet even on the hottest summer day. Tall, glass-panelled walls framed sweeping views of the untouched forest beyond, turning the changing daylight into part of the décor itself—golden at dawn, silver-blue at dusk.
The furniture was a careful mix of elegance and comfort: deep leather armchairs in a rich chestnut brown, low velvet sofas in muted jewel tones, and sleek coffee tables carved from single slabs of dark walnut. Each piece was placed with a precision that made the rooms feel both lived in and curated, as if nothing there was accidental.
The kitchen was a masterpiece of modern design—white stone countertops that seemed to glow softly under the hidden strip-lighting, stainless steel appliances polished to a mirror finish, and a massive central island with a built-in induction cooktop and enough space for a family to gather around. Open shelving displayed neatly stacked porcelain dishes and crystal glassware, while an entire wall doubled as a wine cabinet, its contents displayed behind temperature-controlled glass. The faint aroma of roasted coffee seemed to linger there at all hours, blending with the warm scent of oak from the cabinetry.
The bedrooms, each with their own balcony, were dressed in layered fabrics—Egyptian cotton sheets, silk throws, and heavy velvet drapes that could block out every trace of daylight if drawn. Even the hallways were adorned with subtle art pieces, their frames catching glints of light as you passed, creating a sense of understated opulence.
Across the city, Asher's mansion had been rebuilt with an entirely different soul. His was warm and inviting, with cream walls, wooden beams, and sunlight spilling through big bay windows. Delicate porcelain furniture dotted the rooms, each piece chosen for comfort as much as for style. There was a scent of cinnamon from the kitchen more often than not, and the air felt calmer there—a place for deep conversations and late-night tea, rather than grand banquets.
Meanwhile, Reiner's own response to the attack was cold and methodical. Within days, dozens of lower-ranking mangers were fired, replaced with a new, tighter chain of loyal operatives. The guards remained unchanged—Reiner trusted them with his life, for they had fought for them, fearlessly. Beneath all this, literally, he commissioned the building of an underground emergency house: obsidian walls, fire-proof coating, shock-absorbing supports that could withstand even the fiercest earthquake. It was buried so deep into the ground that the world above could crumble without touching it.
But for the trio this was already in their past.
One late morning, Seraphine sat in the sunlit room on the mansion's eastern wing—a space lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city below. The sky stretched endlessly, painted in soft blues and distant wisps of white clouds. In her arms, Daniel was wide awake, giggling as she bounced him gently, his small fists clutching the folds of her blouse.
She pressed the phone to her ear. "Elora, hi—it's been forever! How are you? And how's Ethan?"
Elora's warm laugh crackled through the speaker. "We're good. Ethan's climbing everything these days—furniture, counters, my sanity. Magnus is… Magnus. And you? How's my little nephew?"
Seraphine grinned, looking down at Daniel's curious eyes. "He's good. Actually—" Her voice softened. "I didn't tell you yet… We had two very bad days a few weeks ago. It was… bad, Elora. I'll tell you everything in person, but… we're safe now."
There was a pause on the other end, then Elora's tone turned firm. "Seraphine don't scare me like that. What keeps happening to you guys? But I'm glad you're safe. Both of you."
"I will tell you everything, promise. But right now, I have another problem," Seraphine said with a playful sigh. "Daniel's birthday. First one. I have no clue what I'm doing. Any decorators online you'd recommend?"
Elora chuckled knowingly. "Pinterest is your new religion, sweetheart. Also, book early—the good ones disappear fast. You want balloons? Streamers? A small zoo? Because yes, that's a thing."
Seraphine laughed. "And you—you're the expert here. How do you even take care of a baby without losing your mind?"
"That's the trick," Elora replied. "You don't. You just… adjust. Sleep when he sleeps, ignore half the mess, and invest in good stain remover. Also, you'll miss these days because he's also going to turn into a teenager throwing sarcasm instead of toys."
They traded advice, stories, and teasing remarks until Daniel began to fuss. "Okay, I'll let you go before your future businessman star cries my ear off," Elora joked.
Seraphine smiled. "Thanks, sis. You're a lifesaver." She hung up, kissed Daniel's forehead, and stood. She twirled him around and made him laugh again. "Why are you like this? Huh, Danny? Not letting me talk to Elora!" she scolded slightly with a smile playing on her lips. Her black, long flipped as she walked out of the room.
She found Lucien downstairs in the dim glow of the music room. His fingers were moving over the grand piano keys, playing something slow but relaxing. But the moment he noticed her, he stopped mid-note and closed the lid, the sound cut short like a secret snuffed out.
"What were you playing?" she asked lightly.
"Nothing," he replied, his voice unreadable.
She didn't press him. Instead, she stepped closer, holding out Daniel. Lucien took his son instantly, a rare softness easing the sharp lines of his face. He tossed him gently into the air once, catching him with a smile that Daniel mirrored.
After a few minutes, Lucien set Daniel on the thick brown carpet, letting him crawl around freely while they watched.
"I talked to Elora about his birthday," Seraphine began. "She recommended some decorators—and apparently a zoo is an option."
Lucien arched a brow. "We're not having a giraffe in the living room."
"Noted," she laughed.
Within the hour, the three of them were in the store, Daniel comfortably nestled in a black leather pram that Lucien pushed through the aisles of an upscale décor shop. Rows of shimmering garlands, pastel balloons, and themed tableware surrounded them.
Lucien picked up a gold crown-shaped centrepiece from the display table, turning it in his hands as if he were inspecting an ancient relic. The polished metal gleamed under the warm shop lights, tiny crystal studs catching the light like trapped stars.
"This one," he declared, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "It's appropriately ridiculous. Daniel should have a throne to match his royal temperament."
Seraphine huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes. "You mean your royal temperament." Still, she reached out and placed it carefully into the cart, shaking her head at his extravagant taste.
Daniel, seated snugly in the pram, kicked his legs and reached out his chubby little hands toward a dangling string of star-shaped fairy lights displayed just above him. His fingers closed on air each time, and his babbling grew more insistent. Finally, he let out a squeal of pure delight, his baby laugh ringing through the quiet store like a small, unexpected burst of sunshine.
Lucien glanced down at him, one brow arched, and bent to take the lights off their hook. "Fine, little prince. We'll add your treasure to the royal hoard."
The baby's tiny fists immediately wrapped around the cool wire, patting at the glowing shapes as if he'd just caught a constellation. Seraphine couldn't help but smile, her heart softening at how much Daniel seemed to light up the dim corners of their lives lately—literally and figuratively.
If something ever happens to him… I don't think I'd survive it. The thought slithered in uninvited, chilling her warmth for a fleeting moment, as she released her hold on the items hanged. After everything—the ambush, the running, the fear—I just need Lucien and Daniel. Without them, I'd be nothing but a broken shell. Her grip on the pram tightened unconsciously, as if holding it firmly could somehow anchor them both to safety forever.
For the first time in weeks, it felt almost… normal.