The last family member remained seated—but even like that, she commanded the room. She was tall, unmistakably so, with an aristocratic posture that made her presence feel carved from ice and moonlight. Silver-white hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of silk, each strand immaculate, as if the wind itself wouldn't dare touch her without permission.
Her eyes—icy blue—didn't just look at me. They dissected. Cool, clinical, assessing. Where Cassandra was all molten curves and warmth, this woman was the opposite: precision and chill elegance, like she'd been sculpted from alabaster with a blade instead of brush.
She rose.
And that's when I saw it—the way her white dress hugged her slender form like it had been stitched on by hand. The fabric was smooth, expensive, draping over her like a whisper, with a single long slit that ran dangerously high up her left thigh. Every step she took revealed flashes of skin—taut, pale, perfect—the kind of beauty that wasn't loud, but commanded attention nonetheless.
Her breasts were small, high, almost delicate—but it only amplified the stark beauty of her form.
Nothing excessive, nothing hidden. Just deliberate, breathtaking restraint. Her round ass, on the other hand, was impossible not to notice—perched like it had no right being on a woman so cold. Each sway was subtle, regal, but undeniably magnetic.
And somehow, the minimalism of it all—the sharpness, the control—made her more dangerous than anyone else in the room.
With all these three? This was indeed trouble in paradise! I like—no, I loved this trouble.
"Are you sure the fever didn't affect his mind?"
"Lyanna," the duchess scolded. "Don't be so cold."
"I'm being practical, Mother. He's looking at us like he's never seen us before."
And she was right. I was staring at all of them like I'd never seen them before, because I hadn't. These were supposed to be my family, but they were complete strangers. Beautiful, intimidating, overwhelming strangers who were treating me like I was the most important thing in their world.
"Sit, darling," the duchess said, guiding me to a chair like I might collapse at any moment. "You must be hungry. Anna, bring Master Marcus his breakfast. The soft foods, nothing too heavy."
As I sat down, I realized that my chair was different from theirs. Softer, with more cushions. There was a small bell next to my plate, presumably so I could call for help if needed. The utensils were lighter, more delicate.
They were treating me like I was made of glass. Like I was something precious that needed to be protected from everything, including apparently normal silverware.
"How are you feeling?" Cassandra asked again, sitting close enough that I could smell her perfume. "Any pain? Dizziness? You gave us such a fright."
"I... no, I feel fine. Better than fine, actually."
"Good," the duchess breathed, relief evident in her voice. "The healers said you would recover completely, but a mother worries."
Healers. Right. Magic world. That was still something I was processing.
"You don't remember being sick?" Lyanna asked, those sharp blue eyes studying my face. "The fever, the delirium? You were speaking strangely for days."
I didn't remember any of that because it hadn't happened to me. It had happened to the original Marcus, whoever he was. But I couldn't exactly explain that.
"It's... fuzzy," I said carefully.
"Strong fever can do that," the duchess said quickly, reaching over to pat my hand. "The important thing is that you're better now. We'll take extra care to make sure you don't overexert yourself."
"Perhaps we should cancel his lessons for the week," Cassandra suggested. "And definitely no going outside until we're sure he's fully recovered."
"I wasn't planning on taking him outside anyway," Lyanna added dryly. "Not after what happened to Lady Daven's son last month."
"What happened to Lady Daven's son?" I asked.
All three women exchanged glances that I couldn't read.
"Nothing you need to worry about, darling," the duchess said quickly. "Just... unpleasantness. The important thing is keeping you safe and healthy."
As Anna served breakfast – foods that looked amazing but were all soft, pre-cut, requiring minimal effort to eat – I started to get a picture of what my life here was like.
I was precious. Protected. Pampered.
And apparently, I never left the house.
"You seem different today," Cassandra observed, cutting my food into even smaller pieces before I could protest. "More... I don't know, curious? Usually you just eat quietly."
"The fever might have affected his memory," the duchess said worriedly, reaching over to feel my forehead again. "Perhaps we should call the healers back."
"I'm fine," I said quickly. "Just... taking everything in, I guess."
Lyanna's sharp eyes narrowed. "Taking everything in? Marcus, you've lived here your entire life. What is there to take in?"
Shit. Right. I was supposed to know all of this already.
"I meant... appreciating it more. After being sick." I tried to sound convincing. "You know, like when you almost lose something, you realize how good you had it."
The duchess's eyes immediately filled with tears. "Oh, my darling boy. Yes, we almost lost you. We're never letting that happen again."
Something about the way she said that made my skin prickle. There was an intensity there that went beyond normal maternal concern.
"Maybe," Cassandra said thoughtfully, "we should move his room closer to ours. So we can keep better watch."
"An excellent idea," the duchess agreed immediately. "The suite next to mine would be perfect."
"Wait," I said, feeling suddenly trapped. "I like my room. And I'm fine now, really."
All three women looked at me like I'd said something shocking.
"Darling," the duchess said gently, "your health is more important than your preferences. We know what's best for you."
That phrase – 'we know what's best for you' – hit me like a cold splash of water. Combined with their beautiful faces and genuine concern, it should have felt loving.
Instead, it felt like the first bar of a very beautiful cage.
____
You guys gonna love this.