The train rattled through fields of green and gold, the sound of its wheels clattering like a steady heartbeat. Adrian sat by the window, his reflection wavering in the glass as the landscape unfolded—a rolling quilt of farmland, dotted with cottages, barns, and forests stretching to the horizon.
For the first time in months, he could breathe. No chandeliers. No suffocating tuxedos. No cameras flashing like predators. Just air that smelled faintly of soil and rain when he cracked the window.
The Cole countryside estate loomed miles ahead, though Adrian wasn't in a hurry to arrive. He savored the passing villages, the crooked fences, the sight of children chasing chickens in dirt roads. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen people who looked genuinely alive, unmeasured by titles or bank accounts.
His phone buzzed. He ignored it. No doubt it was his father demanding updates or his mother reminding him of "responsibility." He slipped it into his jacket pocket, silencing the empire for as long as he could.
The train screeched into the rural station. A driver in a dark suit waited at the platform, holding a placard that read Cole. Adrian sighed. Even here, the family name trailed him like a shadow.
"Sir," the driver greeted, bowing slightly.
"Let's go," Adrian replied, voice clipped. He didn't want a conversation.
The car wound through narrow country lanes, tires crunching on gravel. The Cole estate eventually rose ahead: a sprawling mansion of pale stone, trimmed hedges, and fountains that glimmered under sunlight. It looked like a fortress dropped in the middle of farmland, alien and arrogant against the simplicity around it.
When the car stopped, servants hurried out to collect his bags. Adrian waved them off. "I'll carry it." Their eyes widened, as though the notion of the heir lifting his own luggage was absurd.
Inside, the house smelled of polished wood and lemon oil. It had been years since he last set foot here, and though everything gleamed, the silence was oppressive. He dropped his bag in his suite, stripped off his blazer, and immediately went for the back door.
The moment he stepped outside, sunlight hit him like freedom. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with unfiltered air. Grass bent under his shoes, uneven and real. A narrow dirt road wound toward the village beyond. Without thinking, Adrian followed it.
The village was alive with sound and movement. A dog barked as it chased a wagon. Women traded vegetables at a market stall. An old man strummed a guitar by the well. The rhythm of life was slower here, but richer.
Adrian drew stares—his pressed shirt and polished shoes marked him instantly as an outsider. Whispers trailed after him. Some villagers nodded politely, others turned away. He could almost hear their thoughts: Cole boy. The one whose family wants to buy us out.
He kept walking, uneasy but strangely exhilarated. For once, he wasn't surrounded by flattery or fear—only honesty, even if it came in the form of suspicion.
That was when he heard it—a sharp crack, followed by the creak of wood.
Adrian turned the corner and froze.
A wooden cart had collapsed by the roadside, its wheel splintered. A young woman crouched beside it, trying to lift a heavy crate of apples that had tumbled into the dirt. Her dress was simple, faded from washing, but her movements carried a startling strength. Stray strands of chestnut hair clung to her damp forehead, and when she looked up, her eyes—clear, piercing green—met his.
For a moment, the world stilled.
"Don't just stand there," she snapped, breaking the spell. "Either help or move along."
Adrian blinked. No one ever spoke to him like that. Not his parents, not Bianca, not the endless sea of sycophants who smiled through gritted teeth.
He strode forward before he realized it. "Here, let me."
Together, they lifted the crate back onto the cart. The apples rolled and rattled, but she steadied them deftly. Adrian brushed dirt from his sleeves, his city polish utterly out of place against her roughened hands.
"Thanks," she muttered, tying the rope tighter. Her accent carried the lilt of the countryside, sharp but melodic.
"No problem," Adrian replied, though his voice sounded clumsy compared to hers.
She studied him briefly, suspicion flickering in her gaze. "You're not from around here."
"No." He hesitated, then added, "I'm staying at the estate."
Her hands stilled. "The Cole estate?"
"Yes."
Something hardened in her eyes. She straightened, brushing dust from her dress. "Then you'd better be on your way. We don't need charity here."
Adrian frowned. "I wasn't offering charity. I just wanted to help."
"You already have," she said curtly, pulling the cart's handle. "That's enough."
He watched her struggle to drag the cart. Against his better judgment, he followed.
"Where are you taking it?" he asked.
She sighed. "To the market. Unless you plan on buying apples, don't waste your time."
"Maybe I will," Adrian said.
Her lips twitched, almost a smile but not quite. "City men don't eat apples. They sip wine and laugh at people like me."
"I don't laugh at you."
She didn't reply, but her silence said she didn't believe him.
The market bustled louder as they arrived. The woman—who still hadn't told him her name—stacked the apples neatly on a wooden stall. People greeted her warmly, offering coins and smiles. Adrian noticed how her presence lit the space, how even her sharp words carried warmth underneath.
Finally, she turned to him. "If you're going to hover like a shadow, at least tell me your name."
"Adrian." He hesitated, then decided against giving his last name.
"Adrian," she repeated, testing it. "I'm Elara."
Elara. The name settled in his chest like an anchor.
Before he could speak again, a villager whispered in Elara's ear, eyes flicking toward him. Elara's expression shifted, wary.
"So," she said, crossing her arms, "you're really from the Cole estate."
Adrian exhaled slowly. "Yes."
"Then let me save you some time." Her gaze pierced him. "If you came here to buy our land, you'll fail. We won't sell. Not for your family's money. Not for anything."
Her defiance was like fire—bright, dangerous, and captivating. Adrian opened his mouth, closed it again, and then said quietly, "That's not why I came."
She tilted her head, studying him as though trying to read his soul. For a long moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the cries of merchants and clatter of coins.
Finally, Elara spoke. "Then why did you?"
Adrian searched for the truth, for words that wouldn't sound like lies. "To breathe," he admitted.
Something flickered in her eyes. Not sympathy, not yet, but recognition. As though she knew what it felt like to be caged, even if their cages were worlds apart.
"Strange answer," she murmured.
"Strange place," he countered, and for the first time in years, he felt the ghost of a real smile.
The sun dipped lower, painting the sky with streaks of orange. Elara packed the remaining apples into sacks, slinging them over her shoulder with practiced ease. Adrian reached to help, but she brushed him off.
"You should go back to your mansion," she said, voice firm but not unkind. "This isn't your world."
"Maybe I don't want their world anymore."
Her gaze sharpened. "Then build your own. But don't think you can take ours."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Adrian rooted in place.
He should have been offended. Instead, he was exhilarated.
For the first time in his life, someone had looked him in the eye and seen him—not the heir, not the name, but the man. She had challenged him, dismissed him, refused to bow.
And Adrian knew, as he watched her disappear into the fading light, that Elara was not someone he could ignore.
That night, back in his suite at the estate, Adrian couldn't sleep. The chandelier overhead felt like a cage again, but this time his mind wasn't consumed by his parents. It was consumed by a girl with fire in her voice and strength in her hands.
He opened his journal.
Today I met someone. She doesn't know it, but she's the first real thing I've seen in years. Her name is Elara. She doesn't trust me—and maybe she never will. But for the first time, I don't want to run from a place. I want to stay, if only to see what she'll say next.
He set down the pen, heart racing.
Outside his window, the stars stretched wide and unbroken across the countryside sky. The same stars Elara might be looking at now.
And Adrian knew: his life had already begun to change.