"Young Master."
"What is it?" Justin snapped, his tone sharp and impatient.
"It's Madam," Jude replied hesitantly, watching Justin's expression darken.
"And what about her?" Justin asked, his voice cold, but there was a flicker of tension in his eyes.
"Young Master, we need to head home immediately. She's been calling nonstop. If we're not there…" Jude's voice trailed off, knowing the consequences if they delayed any longer.
"Let's go," Justin interrupted curtly, already striding out of the bathroom. He didn't wait for Jude, his long strides purposeful.
Before leaving the room, Justin paused for a brief moment, his gaze softening as he glanced at Mira, who was still sleeping peacefully.
When he stepped into the hall, Maddie was waiting for him, her eyes scanning him like a hawk, scrutinizing every detail of his appearance.
"She's asleep," Justin said flatly, his tone void of emotion. "I'm heading home now."
As he descended the stairs, a thought struck him, and he turned back toward Maddie. "She'll need to change. You should handle it," he said simply.
Maddie forced a sweet smile, though anger simmered beneath the surface. "Okay, bye," she replied, masking her rage.
Justin didn't even acknowledge her farewell with a kiss or hug.
He simply turned and walked away, leaving Maddie seething. She stared at his retreating figure, her mind racing.
What happened to him? she thought bitterly.
Had that lowlife Mira somehow cast a spell on him? How else could she explain the sudden change in his behavior?
Justin, the infamous yet adored golden boy of their school, had always been distant, even cold, in their relationship—a connection she had worked so hard to secure.
Their "affectionate" moments were nothing more than a façade she forced on him. And now, he showed more concern for that ugly duckling than for her?
Her fury boiled over as she stormed into the room. Seeing Mira sleeping so peacefully, Maddie's anger ignited further.
Without thinking, she stomped to the bathroom, grabbed a bucket of water, and dumped it all over Mira, completely drenching her—and the bed.
"You stupid witch!" Maddie spat, her voice venomous. "Why are you sleeping in my room? Don't you have your own?"
Mira jolted awake, water dripping from her hair and clothes.
She stared at Maddie, stunned, before quietly getting up. Without a word, she adjusted herself and walked toward her room.
But even as her body was cold and soaked, her mind was alight with a storm of emotions.
She couldn't stop replaying the tender moments with Justin.
He had recognized her—not just that, but his actions were so gentle, so protective. A faint smile crept across her lips as she remembered the way he had spoken to her, touched her.
Just as she reached her room and placed her hand on the doorknob, a scream erupted from behind her.
Her heart sank. She didn't need to turn around to know it was her stepmother.
"Mira!" the woman's voice thundered, her tone laced with fury.
Mira froze, bracing herself.
She barely had time to react before her stepmother's hand collided with her face, delivering a sharp, stinging slap.
Her father stood nearby, watching silently as if condoning the act. The weight of their disapproval hung heavy in the air, but Mira said nothing.
She simply lowered her gaze, enduring it as she always did.
"I wonder what kind of behavior you're trying to impersonate! I'm on the verge of losing it!" Gema shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway.
She was furious, using the party as a convenient excuse to vent her frustrations and shift blame onto Mira to protect her own daughter.
Mira stood silently, enduring the barrage of insults like she always did. But then Gema crossed the line.
"I'm sure your mother would be disappointed in you," Gema spat venomously.
At those words, Mira's composure cracked. Her head snapped up, and she fixed Gema with a cold, piercing glare.
"That's enough," Mira said, her voice harsh and cutting.
Gema froze, startled by the shift in Mira's tone.
"I don't deny the party was organized without your knowledge. I accept the blame for that," Mira began, her voice steady but laced with restrained anger.
She raised her hand, pointing a finger at Gema in warning.
"But Gema," she continued, her tone sharp and unyielding, "it doesn't give you the right to say anything about my mother."
The weight of her words hung in the air as Mira turned on her heel and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her.
Once inside, she leaned against the wall, sliding down until she sat on the floor. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she buried her face and let the tears flow freely.
The pain, frustration, and years of suppressed emotions poured out in sobs.
Outside, Gema stood frozen, her face a mix of shock and indignation. When she finally regained her composure, she turned to Joe, her husband, and let out a dramatic sigh.
"Joe, did you hear that?" she cried, her voice trembling with feigned hurt. "I've tried so hard to be a good mother to her, but what do I get in return? She speaks to me in that tone? She even used my name! Joe, I'm at my breaking point!"
Tears welled up in Gema's eyes as she held her knees, her sobs convincing enough to evoke sympathy.
Joe stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in an attempt to comfort her. "Don't worry," he murmured, patting her back. "Give her some time. She'll come around eventually. She's just… paranoid."
But even as he consoled Gema, Joe's gaze drifted to Mira's door.
Justin stared through the window, his eyes fixated on the city below, yet his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts were a whirlwind—too much had happened, and too quickly.
This was the first time he was late for the ritual.
The first time he would miss such an important moment this month, the first time they had prepared so meticulously, and yet… here he was, delaying everything.
All because of her. Mira.
His chest tightened as he replayed his actions. He had left everything behind to save her.
The thought was almost incomprehensible to him.
Why had he done it? What was it about her that made him act so… uncharacteristically? What did she mean to him?
"Master, Madam is calling." Jude's voice cut through his thoughts.
Justin blinked, his gaze shifting to the phone Jude held out to him.
With a sigh, Justin took the phone, feeling the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders.
"Justin, you're late for the ritual!" his mother's voice crackled through the line, her tone sharp with authority. "Tell Jude to speed up the car. The elders are already waiting."
"I'll be there. Just a few minutes," Justin replied curtly, ending the call with a flick of his wrist.
Minutes later, they arrived at the mansion.
The car came to a smooth stop in front of the grand entrance, and both Justin and Jude exited the vehicle in one swift motion, their fangs now visible and their eyes glowing faintly—a warning to anyone who dared stand in their way.
Justin strode toward the entrance with his hands in his pockets, his presence commanding.
As the massive doors swung open, he stepped inside, greeted by the faint glow of red lighting, which slowly dimmed as time ticked away.
The ritual was nearing its final moments.
"Sir, he's here," his mother's voice called, the sound of her heels echoing through the corridors as she approached.
Justin barely spared her a glance, his focus solely on the circle where the ritual would unfold.
His mother was tall, just a few centimeters shorter than him, her eyes sharp and calculating as they swept over him, her gaze lingering on his features—his blue eyes, the shape of his face, his full lips.
She had always seen him as the perfect heir, the one destined for greatness.
She led him to the center of the room, where the elderly vampires gathered, their faces hidden in the shadows, murmuring in unison as they circled around the ritual site.
Justin slowly removed his shirt, the cold air brushing against his skin as he seated himself in the center of the circle.
His mother's hands gripped his, steady and firm.
The chanting began in low, haunting tones, resonating throughout the room as the full moon cast its pale light over him, intensifying the energy of the ritual.
A wave of dizziness overtook him, his senses dulling as though his energy was being siphoned away, yet he felt something new being poured back into him—something powerful, something ancient.
As the chanting grew louder, the circle ignited with flames, their heat searing into his skin.
The flames writhed and twisted, and Justin's breath hitched as the air around him grew heavier, thick with anticipation.
The image they sought was near.
But what appeared was not what they expected.
Instead of a woman, the vision was of a child—a newborn baby appeared to them. Justin's heart skipped a beat, the shock reverberating through him.
The ritual had been performed countless times, each one leading to an image of the bride, the one he was meant to marry.
But now… this?
A child?
A baby, small and fragile, nestled in the flames like a strange omen.
For the first time, he wasn't sure he understood what was happening.