The sound of porcelain shattering against the floor echoed through the side wing, followed by a woman’s frantic, ragged screams.

"Why won’t he see me! Why!"

"That bitch! Even after she’s dead, she still has to stake her claim on his heart!"

"Get out! Everyone, get out!"

Greta Palmer was spiraling, pacing the room in a blind fury.

"Mother! What is it this time?" Benedict Alexander stood by the staircase, looking at her with nothing but utter disgust.

"Son! My son! Call your father! Now!" Greta lunged at him, her eyes wide, desperate, and pleading.

"Even if both of us were dead, he wouldn't look back to check on us," Benedict said, coldly shaking her off his lapels.

Greta’s eyes sparked with a crazed, jagged malice. "Ha! You’re right. All he cares about is that dead woman and her son!" She leaned in, a twisted smirk on her face. "You like that little Montgomery girl, don’t you? Go and take her! I want that bitch and her son to lose to us for once!"

"Oh, and you think this is winning?" Benedict sneered at her.

"It’s your fault! Why won’t you fight for your place? I paved the path for you, and you just stand there! You’re useless!" She began to beat her fists against his chest in a frenzied rage.

Benedict caught her wrists, gripping them tight enough to bruise. "Because neither of us is worthy."

"Ha! Hahaha… a wolf’s den, and yet it birthed a rabbit like you. What a pathetic joke!"

"If you don't calm down," Benedict said, his voice ice-cold as he shoved her away, "I’ll do exactly what Father did. I’ll move out, and I won’t ever see you again."

Greta stumbled, collapsing to the floor. She let out a jagged, hysterical laugh that cut through the silence of the night like a blade.

***

The next morning, Evangeline Montgomery was jolted awake by a commotion downstairs. She sat up, dazed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Why did that voice sound so much like Marcellus?

Confused, she shuffled downstairs to investigate. She froze. The living room was practically overflowing with luxury gifts, and there, sitting comfortably with her parents, was Marcellus Alexander.

The entire room turned toward the stairs. Evangeline stood there, hair disheveled, eyes bleary with sleep, still in her pajamas. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Evangeline," Marcellus murmured, his gaze softening instantly.

She snapped back to reality. Her face flushed a deep crimson, and she turned on her heel, bolting back to her room.

"That child," Marilyn Montgomery chuckled, shaking her head.

Evangeline hurried through a morning routine and scrambled back downstairs. She sidled up to Marcellus and whispered, "What are you doing here?"

Marcellus tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. "Grandfather told me it was time to officially pay my respects to your family."

"Cough—what?" Evangeline gasped, choking on her own spit.

Marcellus patted her back, his expression darkening with immediate concern. "Was I too forward?"

"No! Not at all!" Marilyn stepped in, beaming. She was thoroughly charmed by this son-in-law. It was obvious he only had eyes for her daughter. The "Little Demon King" of the business world was nothing but tender and doting in front of Evangeline—and eyes didn't lie.

Edward, however, remained skeptical. He knew the man’s reputation for being ruthless and volatile in the boardroom. He was terrified that his daughter wouldn't be able to handle such a dangerous beast.

"Marcellus, if you aren't busy, stay for lunch," Marilyn invited.

"I’d be honored, ma'am. Thank you for the hospitality."

"Nonsense, no trouble at all." Marilyn turned to her daughter. "Darling, why don't you show Marcellus around the house while Nancy and I get lunch ready?"

"Sure."

Evangeline took his large hand in hers and smiled. "Come on. Let’s go check out my room."

"Ahem!" Edward gave a sharp, warning cough.

He couldn't believe it. Who invited a man into their bedroom so casually? But Evangeline was already halfway up the stairs, pulling Marcellus along.

Marilyn watched her husband’s face and suppressed a laugh. "Feeling like someone just stole our prized flower and the pot it’s planted in?"

Edward sighed, his face pained. "They grow up so fast..."

Upstairs, as soon as the bedroom door clicked shut, Marcellus pressed Evangeline against the wood, trapping her in his arms. The room was filled with her scent, sweet and intoxicating. He felt his restraint slipping.

Evangeline giggled softly. "Control yourself. We're at my parents' house!"

Foreheads pressed together, their breathing mingled. Marcellus’s voice was a low, jagged rasp. "I thought you brought me here because you missed me."

"Nonsense!"

She blushed, tapping his chest, before leading him to the bed to sit. Marcellus scanned the room—a fresh, soft aesthetic filled with pink accents and plush textures. It was just like her: soft, sweet, and endearing.

"Should we decorate our room at the Elysian Estate like this?" he asked.

"You like my room?"

"I like whatever you like."

His doting words made Evangeline’s heart ache with warmth. She leaned into his embrace. "Marcellus, you’re so good to me."

He kissed the top of her head, silent. He wanted to be even better to her than this.

"Marcellus... the 'Elysian' in Elysian Estate—it isn't named after me, is it?" She had wondered about this years ago, but had dismissed it as her own vanity. Now, it didn't seem so impossible.

Marcellus looked deep into her eyes, his thin lips parting. "Yes. It is."

"Wow... Marcellus! That place was built five years ago. I was only seventeen then!"

Marcellus turned his face away, terrified that she’d think he was some kind of obsessed stalker.

Evangeline studied his expression, lost in thought. She had never asked him why he loved her, or when it all started. It was becoming clear that there was a history between them she had either forgotten or never knew.

Seeing her fall into a troubled silence, Marcellus panicked, his heart sinking. "I'm sorry, Evangeline. I..."

She cut him off with a soft, lingering kiss.

Marcellus went rigid for a second before his hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, his kiss turning deeper and more possessive. Their breath hitched; the air in the room grew heavy and hot. Evangeline tapped his chest, gasping, forcing herself to stop.

"My mother... is downstairs," she whispered, her eyes dark and misty.

Marcellus pulled her into a tight hug, his chest heaving as he fought for control.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

"Evangeline? May I have a word with Marcellus?" Edward’s voice boomed from the hall.

He couldn't stand the suspense. A man and a woman in a room alone—and that boy looked at his daughter like a starving wolf. He’d reached his limit.

Evangeline bit her lip to keep from laughing and gave Marcellus a shove. "Go on."

Marcellus walked to the door, looking rather disgruntled. Edward peered past him into the room, confirming that they were both fully dressed and the bed was untouched, before finally letting out a breath of relief.

At least the kid knew his boundaries.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Come. Let's sit in the study."

"Of course."

Marcellus followed Edward into the study. "Take a seat," Edward said, gesturing to the sofa.

"What would you like to discuss, sir?"

"We've all heard rumors about your... methods. Evangeline was raised in a sheltered home..."

"You have my word," Marcellus interrupted, his gaze unwavering. "I would never treat her the way I handle business. She is my most precious treasure."

"Your family situation is a mess," Edward countered. "The force you used to get to the top must have created quite a few enemies."

"You said it yourself, sir—my style is effective. I don't give them the chance to rise against me. I have the power to protect her. Absolutely."

Edward narrowed his eyes. The boy was arrogant, yes, but he clearly had the intellect and the grit to back it up. He had clawed his way to the top of the food chain, and that was no small feat.

Edward frowned, a fresh wave of concern washing over him: Is my daughter really strong enough to tame a monster like this?