Mira stepped out first.
Her legs still felt like they belonged to someone else—stiff, aching, unreliable—but she forced herself forward anyway, chin lifted, spine straight.
The Serrano penthouse stretched before her in polished marble and glass, spotless and gleaming, too pristine for the chaos clawing at her chest.
She was home.Unfortunately.
The quiet pressed in immediately, heavy and judging, the kind that made every sound feel too loud. Her bare feet brushed against cool marble, grounding and unsettling all at once.
Livia followed a step behind her, unusually quiet.
That alone made Mira uneasy.
The silence didn't last.
"Well," Livia murmured, glancing around the empty living space as if checking for hidden witnesses, "good news. No audience. Bad news—"
"Mouth," Mira said softly, slipping off her heels and carrying them in her hand. "Shut it."
Livia smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "You're the one who slept with the enemy.
"
"I did not sleep—" Mira cut herself off, squeezed her eyes shut, then said through her teeth, "I do not want to discuss semantics."
She moved toward the hallway, her body protesting with every step. A dull ache settled deep in her muscles, the kind that wasn't just physical. Each movement dragged memories behind it.
Hotel sheets. Rum. His hands
.
She flinched, fingers tightening around her heels.
"Walk normal," Livia whispered, falling into step beside her. "You're doing the newborn deer thing again."
"I am not," Mira replied, keeping her gaze forward.
"You absolutely are."
Mira shot her a glare over her shoulder. "If you say one more word, I will fake your death."
Livia opened her mouth—
And stopped.
"Mira Isabel Serrano."
The name landed like a gavel.
Mira froze.
For a heartbeat, she considered pretending she hadn't heard him. Then slowly, deliberately, she turned.
Regis Serrano stood near the living room windows, silk robe perfectly tied, morning newspaper folded neatly in his hand. Morning light framed him like a painting—controlled, composed, untouchable.
A man who looked like nothing ever surprised him.
His sharp gaze swept over Mira in a single assessing glance.
Hair hastily tied. Oversized hoodie. Bare face.
Barely standing.
His jaw tightened
.
"You're home early," Regis said.
Mira swallowed. Her throat felt dry. "Good morning, Dad."
Livia moved instantly.
"Oh! Morning," Livia said brightly, stepping forward as if she'd just wandered in by coincidence. "I just came out of my room. I heard voices."
Mira stared at her.
Traitor.
Regis's eyes flicked to Livia briefly, then returned to Mira, slower this time. "You look disheveled."
"It was a rough night," Mira said, forcing the words out evenly.
"So I see," Regis replied. His gaze lingered, sharp and measuring. "You disappeared after the gala."
Mira felt her pulse spike. "I needed air," she said quickly. "I stayed with a friend."
Livia nodded a little too eagerly. "A very… accommodating friend.
"Livia," Mira warned, barely moving her lips.
Regis ignored her. "And you returned like this?"
"I'm twenty-four," Mira said, folding her arms, instinctively protective.
"And reckless," Regis replied calmly.
The word cut deeper than she expected. Mira's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
Regis folded the newspaper with precise movements. "Clean yourself up. Investors arrive this afternoon." He paused, then added, "Try not to embarrass us further."
Without another glance, he turned and walked away, his footsteps measured, unhurried.
Mira didn't move.
Her shoulders only relaxed once his presence vanished down the corridor.
When his footsteps disappeared completely, Livia finally spoke.
"Well," she said quietly, "that went better than expected."
"I hate you," Mira muttered.
"I saved you," Livia replied.
"You lied."
"I improvised," Livia said, leaning closer, eyes sharp now instead of playful. "So. Did Cassian text you yet?"
Mira didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, sudden and insistent, like it had been waiting.
Unknown Number:
We need to talk. Today.
Her stomach dropped.
Another message followed immediately.
You left your bracelet in my bed.
Mira closed her eyes, breath catching.
Livia inhaled sharply. "Oh."
"I'm going to die," Mira said, voice flat.
"No, you're not," Livia replied. "You're going to see him."
"I'm not," Mira said firmly, even as her grip tightened around her phone.
"You can't leave your bracelet there."
"I can buy another one."
"It has the moon charm," Livia said. "The one you never take off."
Mira groaned, dragging a hand down her face.
"Go shower," Livia said, looping her arm
through Mira's. "I'll distract Dad. Again."
"You're enjoying this," Mira said.
"Immensely."
Two hours later, Mira stood in front of her vanity, staring at her reflection.
Everything about her looked controlled now. Hair smooth. Makeup light. Expression calm.
Normal.
Which felt wrong.
"This is not a date," she told herself. "This is retrieval. In and out."
She dressed simply. Black. Clean lines. Nothing inviting.
Her phone buzzed.
Cassian Draymond: Lobby. Now.
Her stomach twisted.
The Draymond Tower rose like a challenge against the sky.
Cold. Glass. Arrogant.
Mira barely took three steps into the lobby before she felt him—like gravity shifting.
Cassian Draymond stood near the windows, jacket off, sleeves rolled, hands in his pockets like the city belonged to him.
He turned.
"Mira," he said.
"I'm here for my bracelet," she replied.
"You ran," Cassian said.
"I left."
"You fled."
She crossed her arms, grounding herself.
"Give it to me."
He stepped closer, invading her space with quiet confidence.
"You left more than jewelry," he said quietly.
"I don't know what you think happened," Mira said.
"I was awake," Cassian replied.
Her breath caught despite hersel
f.
"I waited," he added. "To see if you'd look back."
She snatched the bracelet from his hand.
"This was a mistake."
Cassian's fingers brushed her wrist—not forceful, just enough to stop her.
"We're not finished," he said.
"Yes, we are," Mira replied, pulling free. "This ends here."
She turned and walked away before her legs betrayed her.
Her phone buzzed the moment she stepped outside.
Cassian Draymond:
Dinner. Tonight. 9 PM.
Don't run again.
Mira stared at the screen..
"No," she said aloud. "This isn't over."
She slipped the bracelet back onto her wrist,
the moon charm cool against her skin.
And she hated that a part of her already knew. It had never been close to ending at all.