A sliver of late afternoon sun cut through the gap in the carriage house door, lighting up the fine dust motes swirling between Elara and Julian. Seraphina stood illuminated, a silhouette of elegant, coiled anger.
Julian was, however, a master of instant control. In the brief moment it took for the door to creak fully open, he smoothly stepped away from Elara. He didn't rush or act startled. Instead, he adjusted his posture, placing his hands at the knot of his dark sweater, brushing off imagined dust as if he were focused on a technical problem.
"Seraphina, darling. What a surprise," he said, his voice conveying mild irritation at the interruption. "You found us. We're in the depths of the Thorne estate, battling the ancient generator meant to power your stunning wedding."
Seraphina entered the dim room, her eyes quickly scanning the space. She ignored the dusty easel and the remnants of Elara's hidden life. Her gaze snapped to Elara and then to Julian, searching for signs of the intimacy she sensed.
"You said you were going to the carriage house to check the power grid, Julian," Seraphina said, her voice tight. "Not to hold a private meeting with my sister in an old art studio."
Julian allowed a slow, patient smile to spread across his face, showing the persona of a fiancé managing a flighty bride. "And I did check the power grid. It's a total disaster, by the way. It will need a complete overhaul if you want those imported Italian lights to work reliably." He walked past Elara, placing his arm casually around Seraphina's shoulders and guiding her further into the room. "As for Elara, she was essential. The main breaker is labeled with one of your grandfather's terrible, hand-drawn schematics. Elara spent her childhood hiding in here, painting. She was the only one who could read the old man's handwriting."
He flashed Elara a quick, meaningful look—a command masked as a conspiratorial wink. He had given her a role: the decoder, the practical sibling, the necessary logistical tool.
Seraphina wasn't convinced. She shrugged off Julian's arm and focused her icy blue eyes on Elara. "You look flushed, Elara. Did you have to crawl through the grime? You really must stop running errands for Julian. That's what his staff is for."
The accusation was subtle but pointed. Seraphina wasn't suggesting they were kissing; she was implying Elara had overstepped her role as the subordinate sister.
Julian chose this moment to shift the conversation. He let Seraphina's jab linger for a moment before sighing dramatically.
"She was helping me, Seraphina. That's more than I can say for the accounting team this week," Julian said, his tone going from patient to concerned. He stepped between the sisters, blocking Seraphina's view of Elara. "Speaking of which, darling, I need to talk to you about the wedding dinner estimates. I just reviewed the statement, and the costs for the floral centerpieces are high."
The word "costs" hit Seraphina harder than any accusation of infidelity could. Her tension immediately shifted from Elara's presence to her budget.
"Julian, they're imported orchids! They are worth every cent," Seraphina replied, instantly defensive.
"They are stunning, of course," Julian agreed smoothly, brushing his hand gently against her cheek, providing a loving distraction. "But, my angel, these numbers could buy a small yacht. We need to be sensible. Your father is getting nervous about the overall expenses, and I promised him discretion. Can we discuss this now, privately, in the main house?"
Seraphina, thoroughly distracted and slightly chastened by the mention of her father's disapproval, quickly forgot her suspicions about Elara. Julian had expertly shifted her focus from feelings to finances—the only thing that truly mattered to her.
"Of course, we can talk about it," Seraphina said, already moving toward the door. "But don't blame the orchids; blame the champagne list. It's astronomical."
Julian offered Elara a final, cool nod. "Thank you for your invaluable help, Elara. We'll talk soon about the rest of the Thorne history. I still need your insight."
Then he guided Seraphina out, his arm firmly around her waist, playing the role of the devoted yet slightly exasperated fiancé perfectly.
Elara was left alone in the dark carriage house, the smell of dust mixing with the faint scent of sandalwood left on her lips. A wave of nausea washed over her. Julian had saved her, but he had done it through a casual and terrifying manipulation of her sister. She felt dirty—used as a pretext and then dismissed as unimportant. The kiss, which had felt genuine, now seemed like a well-timed, calculated move.
She was being maneuvered by a man who was both her conspirator and her forbidden lover, as well as a puppet master controlling her family's fate.
Later that night, Elara couldn't sleep. The guilt had turned into a cold, heavy stone in her stomach. She wandered through the vast, silent house, needing a glass of water.
As she passed the closed door of the master study—a room Julian now often used for late-night calls—she heard a voice. It was Julian's voice. It wasn't the smooth, seductive baritone he used with her or the patient tone he took with Seraphina. It was flat, hard, and chillingly analytical.
He spoke too softly for her to catch every word, but she froze against the cold marble wall, listening.
"...No, I told you. Keep your distance. She is too erratic right now," Julian said, hissing. There was a pause where the person on the other end must have spoken.
Julian continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper that was still sharp as broken glass. "Seraphina is exactly where she needs to be. The backup is running on schedule. The key piece is secure. I need full confirmation of the final asset's location by tomorrow morning."
Another pause.
Then Julian said something that crushed the last bit of Elara's hope, confirming her deepest, darkest fears:
"Yes, the timeline is tight now. The Ticking requires that the wedding—the full event—goes as planned and concludes exactly on time. Get the final signatures and make sure Seraphina understands her role. If she deviates, everything collapses, and we could lose it all. I cannot risk losing control now."