Lilith Steele woke to the soft hum of the city outside her apartment window. The morning light fell in a muted haze across her room, illuminating the faint bruises along her collarbone, the marks of the past night she had tried so desperately to forget.
For a moment, she allowed herself a fleeting thought: Does any of it even matter? The world, her family, and the rumors—the noise of all of it—felt distant. She had grown accustomed to ignoring her father, Maria's scheming, and even the Barone announcement. Today, she resolved, she would focus on herself.
The headlines were unavoidable: "Rhett Barone Set to Marry in Two Weeks!" screamed across digital platforms, accompanied by sleek paparazzi-style renders of Rhett in his tailored suits, a glass of whiskey in hand, exuding dominance. Maria Steele's face appeared in the corner of the media posts, Robert Steele's proud gaze framed beside her. The internet was ablaze with speculation.
Lilith skimmed the posts, noting the frenzy of public interest, but she hardly registered the specifics. Her father and Maria could revel in their imagined triumph—she didn't care. Her disinterest, however, did little to ease the strange sensation gnawing at her spine: the feeling of being watched.
It followed her as she went about her morning. Every time she glanced out the window or passed a reflective surface, she caught a shadow, a flicker, a presence she couldn't place. Her pulse quickened. Paranoia? she wondered. Or someone actually is there?
She decided to leave the apartment, hoping a walk would clear her mind. The streets of Serelis were bright with the bustle of early commerce, but the unease persisted. Just as she reached the corner near the café she frequented, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd.
Carl Creed.
Her heart skipped involuntarily, and her lips parted before she could stop herself. He stepped forward, a mix of relief and exasperation etched into his features.
"Lilith," he called softly, yet there was an edge to his tone. "Why are you avoiding me?"
She froze, caught off guard, but her instincts overrode her hesitation. She ran into his arms, wrapping herself around him in a way that surprised them both. The weight of weeks of avoidance and fear melted against the warmth of familiarity.
"I… I didn't mean to," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's just… everything."
Carl held her tighter, his strong hands pressing gently against her back. "You don't have to explain. I'm here now. That's all that matters."
The world seemed to narrow to that moment: the press of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the faint scent of cedar and cologne that reminded her of safety. They lingered there, unspoken words filling the space, until the city noises began to intrude once more. Lilith reluctantly pulled back, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Let's walk," Carl suggested. "Talk. Or don't talk. Just… walk."
Lilith nodded. Together, they moved down the streets, blending into the morning crowd, the uneasy sensation of eyes on her still lingering in the back of her mind.
---
Meanwhile, in his penthouse, Rhett Barone received a series of images that ignited a fire within him. Surveillance from his team showed Lilith stepping outside her building. Notably, Carl Creed was nearby, interacting with her.
Rhett's jaw clenched. A growl rose in his chest, low and dangerous. Without hesitation, he grabbed his gloves and entered the punching room. The sound of leather hitting the bag echoed sharply in the private gym, each strike a measure of his fury. His muscles burned, the vibrations of anger coursing through his veins.
"Not him. No one touches her," he growled under his breath, each punch a silent promise. Sweat dripped down his temple, but he barely noticed. His mind was a storm, calculating, precise, and merciless.
Once he felt the adrenaline begin to settle, he retrieved his phone and called Steve.
"Steve," he said, voice cold, controlled, yet brimming with command, "prepare everything. Tell Steele that the wedding is confirmed. This is not up for negotiation."
"Yes, Mr. Barone," Steve replied smoothly.
Rhett's gaze shifted to a series of sketches laid out on the table: the invitations, the décor, the venue layouts. "Book the top designer immediately. I want the gown crafted perfectly for Lilith Steele. Every stitch, every fabric, every detail described as if it were royalty itself. Nothing less."
Steve nodded. "I will have the designer's team in place. The room is ready, the dress is being designed. And the venue?"
Rhett's lips curved in a thin, predatory smile. "The Grand Serelis Ballroom. Floor-to-ceiling crystal, gold-trimmed walls, candlelight that flickers like her heartbeat. Tables draped in deep crimson velvet, flowers in shades of scarlet and white—luxury that will remind everyone who she belongs to."
"Understood," Steve said, taking notes.
"And the music," Rhett continued, pacing. "An orchestra capable of playing live, the strings and piano echoing her name with every note. I want this night to be unforgettable, irreversible. Make it… perfect."
"Yes, sir," Steve said, bowing slightly.
Rhett's hand hovered over the images of Lilith, her face captured in the photos his team had gathered. Obsession and protectiveness blended in a dark elegance. "No one will touch her. No one will threaten this. Carl Creed… he will see what it means to cross me."
Steve stored the instructions, each word etching the wedding into motion, every detail locked into the precision of Rhett's obsessive planning.
---
Back in Serelis, Lilith and Carl reached a quiet café. They sat by a window, sipping warm tea as sunlight streaked across the table. Carl reached across, brushing her hand gently.
"You're tense," he said softly, eyes scanning hers.
Lilith exhaled, the weight of her father, the media, and Rhett's shadow pressing silently behind her. "I'm… just tired. And my family… they make things complicated."
Carl nodded, understanding. "You're not alone. Whatever happens, I'm here."
Lilith allowed herself a small smile, feeling the first trace of comfort in weeks. But even as she laughed at a story he told, the hair on her neck prickled. Somewhere, someone was watching. And she knew, deep down, that this day—like every day since Rhett had stepped into her life—was only the beginning.