Mid-March – Markov Estate
The Carriage Gate Opens
The car rolled into the estate as the afternoon sun filtered through the trees, painting dappled light across the stone paths. It had only been a week away—maybe a little more—but it felt like a month had passed.
Jay leaned against the car window, one elbow on the sill, watching the familiar walls draw closer.
They were no longer intimidating.
Not after what he'd just faced.
Christin sat beside him, a thin folder in her lap and her usual composed expression in place. But something was different now.
Softer.
Quieter.
More real.
Jay reached out and closed the folder for her.
"You're allowed to rest," he said.
She looked at him.
"I'll rest when I'm back in my own house."
Jay smiled. "Bet you say that in your sleep, too."
The car slowed.
The Markov crest came into view.
They were home.
The Return
Vincent met them at the estate steps, flanked by two footmen.
He gave a slight bow. "Welcome back, Master Jay. Lady Aldwynn."
Christin nodded. Jay just stared.
Vincent's tone was even, but his eyes flicked—just briefly—to Jay's chest, to his face, and then softened.
"You did well," he said quietly.
Jay blinked. "You read the reports already?"
Vincent offered the ghost of a smile. "Before your flight even landed."
Christin smirked. "I see discretion is still a myth here."
Vincent bowed again. "When success arrives, we celebrate quickly."
Jay walked inside.
The estate didn't feel smaller. It didn't feel larger.
It just felt… familiar.
And that, strangely, didn't make him feel trapped anymore.
III. An Audience with the Father
His father was waiting.
Reginald Markov stood beside the long window in his study, arms folded, eyes scanning the courtyard below.
Jay entered without fanfare.
"You sent me to do your bidding," Jay said. "I did it. We passed the proposal."
Reginald didn't turn.
"I know."
Jay waited. "That's it?"
"You expected praise?"
Jay crossed his arms. "I expected… something."
Reginald finally turned. His gaze was unreadable.
"You want a reward?"
Jay didn't answer.
Reginald walked closer. "Then here it is. You're free to return to your school. To your classmates. To your… normal life."
Jay's breath caught.
But Reginald wasn't finished.
"You may leave. But understand this: you will return again. And when you do—when the day comes—you'll stand before this family not as a bystander, but as a true contender."
Jay swallowed.
"So that's it?"
Reginald nodded once. "For now."
Jay turned.
He didn't bow.
He didn't thank him.
He just walked out.
Free.
Or at least, freer than he'd ever been.
Letters and Shadows
That evening, Jay sat in the east wing library, flipping through one of the older journals his mother had collected. The fire crackled softly beside him. Outside, the wind carried the scent of fading winter.
There were letters on the table.
One from Elias. One from Celeste.
Elias's note was formal. Precise. Barely personal.
You made noise. People will listen now. Don't mistake that for power.
Jay folded it away without a word.
Celeste's letter, in contrast, was handwritten with lilac ink.
I'm proud of you, no matter where you go next. Come find me before you leave.
Jay closed his eyes.
He would.
He needed to.
Marin, Theo, and Quiet Goodbyes
In the hallway, Marin ambushed him with a tray of sweets and the tightest hug he'd felt in months.
"I told you," she said into his shoulder. "You're meant for more than suits and shadows."
Jay chuckled. "I think I've had enough of both."
Theo was worse.
The junior bodyguard launched into a dramatic monologue about how Jay was a 'cool-headed diplomat in disguise' and 'probably fencing off spies with a fork at breakfast.'
Jay rolled his eyes. "You really need to stop watching late-night movies."
Theo laughed and patted his shoulder. "Still. You did something big. Doesn't matter who knows it. We do."
Jay smiled. That was enough.
One Last Evening
Jay found Christin on the balcony just before dusk. She was dressed casually again—soft black turtleneck, long cream scarf, hair down. The wind caught it gently, like it had learned to treat her with respect.
"You always find me when it's quiet," she said.
Jay leaned beside her on the railing. "Maybe because that's when you're most honest."
She looked at him, lips tilting. "Flattery. Bold choice."
Jay shrugged. "Earned it."
They watched the horizon together.
Neither spoke for a while.
Then Jay said, "I don't want to forget this."
Christin's eyes flicked toward him. "You won't."
"I mean it."
She took his hand. "Then don't."
They stood there until the sun dipped past the trees.
No words.
Just presence.
A quiet kind of closeness.
VII. Time to Go
The next morning, Jay stood by the car.
The engine was idling. His bags were already loaded.
He looked back at the estate.
Not as a prison.
Not as a throne.
Just as one part of his story.
Christin stood by the door, arms folded.
"You're really going, huh?"
Jay gave a slow nod.
"I have to."
She stepped forward. "So go."
Jay smiled.
Then opened the car door.
Paused.
Looked up at the clear blue sky.
And said, more to himself than anyone else:
"Time to go back."