Blossom sat stiffly on the velvet couch, her hands clenched into her lap as she watched her so-called family put on their ridiculous act.
Her father, Duke Leonard Evensworth, sat at the head of the room, his imposing presence filling the space. His sharp features bore a permanent look of authority, his deep-set eyes always scanning for weakness. Next to him sat Lady Vivian, her mother, a woman as cold as she was beautiful, her delicate fingers wrapped elegantly around her teacup. And then, of course, there was Celeste.
Her ever-so-perfect younger sister.
Dressed in soft pastels, Celeste looked every bit the delicate flower she pretended to be. Her long silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her pale blue eyes shimmered with an innocence that Blossom knew was as fake as the concern in her voice.
"Blossom," Celeste sighed softly, placing a gentle hand over hers, "I'm so relieved you're alright. When I heard about what happened, I was worried sick."
Blossom wanted to laugh. Worried sick? This little rat?
Instead, she smiled—slow, cold, and razor-sharp.
"I'm sure you were."
Celeste's grip tensed slightly before she let out a melodious chuckle, ever the graceful actress. "Father and Mother were also worried. We all were."
Blossom's eyes flickered toward her parents. Worried? They hadn't even looked at her properly since stepping into the room.
Duke Leonard finally cleared his throat, his voice deep and commanding. "Blossom, I trust you understand the importance of this engagement now."
Ah. There it is.
They hadn't come out of concern. They hadn't come because she had nearly died. They came to make sure she was still trapped.
Blossom met his gaze head-on. "You mean the importance of selling me off?"
Vivian's fingers twitched against her teacup, but she remained silent.
Celeste let out a soft, disapproving sigh. "Sister, don't say such things. This engagement is for your own good."
Blossom almost gagged. She had played this role once before. The obedient daughter. The fool. The one who believed in their empty words.
Never again.
She leaned back, crossing her arms. "You don't have to pretend, Celeste. We both know I don't have a choice."
Celeste's face faltered for the briefest second, but she quickly masked it with another sweet smile. "You're misunderstanding me, sister. I only want what's best for you."
Before Blossom could snap back, Celeste gracefully picked up a glass of water from the table and held it out toward her. "Here. You must be thirsty. Let me help—"
The moment Celeste leaned forward, the glass slipped.
The water spilled onto Blossom's dress, cold and sudden.
A gasp filled the room. The maids watching from the corners of the room murmured amongst themselves.
Celeste let out a soft, apologetic gasp. "Oh, dear! I didn't mean to—"
Before she could finish, Blossom's hand struck her across the face.
SLAP!
The sound echoed through the silent room.
Celeste's head snapped to the side, her long hair whipping over her shoulder. Her pale blue eyes widened in shock, one delicate hand flying to her now-reddened cheek.
A stunned silence settled over the room.
Duke Leonard stiffened. Lady Vivian's lips parted slightly in disbelief. Even Adrien, who had been standing near the window with his arms crossed, raised a single brow.
Blossom didn't care.
She slowly stood up, brushing her damp dress with an air of indifference.
"Don't pretend to be kind when you're not, Celeste," she said, her voice calm, but sharp like a blade. "I've had enough of your pathetic act."
Celeste looked at her with wide, glossy eyes—but Blossom saw the flicker of pure hatred hidden underneath.
She turned her gaze toward her parents. "Since this wedding is so important to you, don't bother showing your faces until the ceremony."
Duke Leonard's eyes darkened. "Blossom, watch your tone—"
She raised a hand, cutting him off. "No need for dramatic goodbyes. You can use the door."
The maids murmured louder, eyes darting between them. The very idea of someone speaking to the Duke of Evensworth like this was unthinkable.
But Blossom? She didn't give a damn.
She turned away, walking toward her room without sparing them another glance.
Her father called her name sharply, but she didn't stop.
Adrien watched her with an unreadable expression, but she ignored him, too.
She had played nice for long enough.
She was done.
Blossom shut the door to her room with more force than necessary, the sharp sound echoing through the quiet space. Her heart was still racing, her palm tingling from where she had slapped Celeste.
Pathetic. Celeste had always been a cunning little snake, hiding behind fake kindness, but Blossom had grown tired of playing along.
With a sigh, she turned toward her wardrobe and began unfastening the damp dress clinging to her skin. She needed to change. The last thing she wanted was to sit in wet fabric, feeling like she had been tainted by her sister's false concern.
She slipped the dress from her shoulders, reaching for a fresh gown when she felt it—a presence behind her.
Her body stiffened.
Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes narrowing when she caught sight of Adrien.
He stood just a few feet away, his golden eyes focused intently on her bare back.
That bastard.
Blossom's face flushed with both anger and embarrassment as she snatched a silk shawl from the chair nearby, pulling it up to cover herself.
"Do you not know how to knock?" she snapped, spinning to face him. "Or do you just lack the concept of personal space?"
Adrien didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally blinked and shifted his weight, as if remembering where he was.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Why was he staring at her like that?
"If you're here to scold me over Celeste, don't bother," she bit out. "It wouldn't be the first time."
Adrien's jaw tightened slightly, but instead of saying anything, he stepped forward and grabbed her hand.
Blossom froze.
His touch was gentle, warm, completely at odds with the usual cold demeanor he carried. He turned her hand over, his thumb brushing over her palm where the faint sting of the slap still lingered.
"Does it hurt?"
Blossom's breath hitched. What…?
His golden eyes lifted to hers, unreadable yet strangely soft.
What the hell was he trying to pull?
She yanked her hand back, heart pounding. "Tsk. Do you think I'll fall for such tricks?"
Adrien exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching into something that almost resembled amusement. "I didn't realize concern was a trick."
Before Blossom could bite back a response, a knock sounded at the door.
"Your Grace," the butler's voice came from the other side. "Duke Laurent is here to see Lady Blossom."
Adrien's expression darkened slightly at the mention of the name.
Blossom, on the other hand, felt her lips curve into a small smirk. Duke Laurent, huh?
Although she was engaged to Adrien, she couldn't deny a small curiosity to see what this other duke looked like.