{Third Person}
Torin had been interesting to her at first.
Taking him from Amara had been satisfying in a way she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just about him—it had been about winning, about proving sothing, and about taking what had once belonged to soone else and making it hers.
And she had done that so easily. But now, the excitent had faded.
Torin was attentive, always available, always willing to adjust himself around her. He rarely pushed back, and when he did, it never lasted. He gave in too quickly, softened too easily.
At first, it had been convenient, but now, it felt predictable.
Lila tilted her head slightly as she looked at her reflection again, this ti with a more critical eye.
"The Caldwell na isn’t sothing just anyone fits into," she said quietly.
Her tone wasn’t emotional; it was practical.
Torin ca from a decent, respectable, comfortable background. But it wasn’t enough for her, and what she had grown up with.
She turned away from the mirror and walked toward her bed, sitting down slowly.
"I’m not rushing into anything," she murmured.
Marriage wasn’t just a feeling; it was a life-altering decision, a calculated one. And she wasn’t convinced yet about him.
"Let him wait," she added, almost absentmindedly.
Until she decided, or until sothing better ca along.
---
Later that night, the master bedroom was quiet.
Anthony had just finished changing when Matilda entered, closing the door behind her.
There was sothing thoughtful in her expression, the kind that suggested she had already made up her mind about sothing.
"I spoke to Lila earlier," she said as she walked toward him.
Anthony glanced at her briefly. "What did you two talk about?"
"She doesn’t think she and Torin are ready for an engagent yet."
That was enough to change his expression. "Not ready?" he repeated, turning fully toward her. "Or is he not ready?"
Matilda sighed softly, already expecting that reaction. "It’s not that simple," she said.
"It is that simple," Anthony replied without hesitation. "If he cannot handle pressure now, then he has no business marrying my daughter."
His tone was firm, decisive.
"There are already rumours," Matilda continued, her voice calr. "You know what people are saying. About him dating Amara before, and now being with Lila. It’s not a clean situation."
Anthony’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.
"If we push for an engagent now," she added, "people will twist it. They will say he is rushing into it for status. That he is trying to secure his position."
Anthony looked away briefly, considering that. "He should be strong enough to ignore that," he said after a mont.
"Strength doesn’t co from being forced. It cos from being ready," Matilda replied gently.
A small pause followed as she stepped closer, softening her tone just enough.
"Let things settle first. Give them ti. If it’s ant to happen, it will still happen," she said.
Anthony exhaled slowly. He didn’t like it, and that much was clear. But he wasn’t unreasonable either.
"...Fine," he said at last. "We delay it."
Matilda relaxed slightly.
"But I won’t have people dragging our na through the mud," he added, his voice sharpening. "I will deal with the rumours myself."
There was authority in that statent.
Matilda nodded. "I know you will."
═════ ❄✦❄ ═════
Werewolf Clan.
The next morning, in the Alpha Prince’s residence, it felt unusually calm.
Sunlight filtered softly through the tall windows of the dining room. The quiet clink of utensils and the servants’ faint rustle of movent created a peaceful rhythm that stood in stark contrast to the tension of the previous days.
Amara sat at the table, looking far more at ease than she had been in a while. For once, there were no shadows lingering in her expression.
She ate slowly at first, then with more appetite than usual, finishing almost everything that had been served to her.
Even Ginger, curled comfortably near her feet, seed unusually content, occasionally glancing up as if sharing in her good mood.
By the ti Amara set her utensils down, there was a faint sense of satisfaction in her posture. She had slept very well.
Mrs. Woods, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward at that mont. In her hands were three neatly sealed envelopes.
"My lady," she said gently as she presented them.
Amara’s eyes imdiately widened. The reaction was instant and genuine.
Her hands moved quickly as she took the letters, her gaze already scanning the familiar handwriting on the envelopes. The mont recognition settled in, her entire expression lit up.
"They wrote back..." she whispered, almost to herself.
The excitent in her voice was unmistakable.
For a brief second, she simply held the letters close, as though grounding herself in the mont. Then a thought crossed her mind, and a small smile ford on her lips.
"He really is efficient..." she murmured under her breath. "If I had known he would be this useful and kind, I would have gotten closer to him much earlier."
Mrs. Woods heard it but said nothing, only allowing herself a faint, knowing smile.
Amara looked back at the envelopes, then glanced up again. "When did these arrive?" she asked.
"Very early this morning," Mrs. Woods replied. "They were delivered to by Sir Jasper."
Amara frowned slightly. "Then why didn’t you give them to when I woke up?"
Mrs. Woods’ smile deepened just a little. "That was His Highness’s instruction," she said. "He asked that the letters be given to you only after you had finished your breakfast."
Amara paused, then she shook her head lightly, almost amused. "What’s his deal?"
There was no real complaint in her tone. If anything, it made her smile again.
Without wasting another second, she stood up, clutching the letters carefully in her hands.
"I will be in my room," she said quickly before hurrying off.
There was a lightness in her steps that hadn’t been there earlier this morning.
---
At almost the sa ti, outside the residence, another carriage ca to a smooth stop.
It was not grand in an overwhelming way, but it carried a quiet elegance that spoke of status without needing to announce it loudly.
The door opened, and a young man stepped down.
At first glance, there were subtle, but unmistakable similarities. He shared the sa striking features as Alexander, the sa refined bone structure, the sa presence that naturally drew attention.
But where Alexander’s aura was cold and distant, his was warr and approachable.
There was an ease in the way he carried himself, a lightness that softened the sharpness of his features.
His attire was impeccable, tailored to perfection, but worn with a kind of effortless confidence rather than rigid authority.
He adjusted his cuff slightly as his shoes touched the ground, his gaze lifting toward the residence with quiet curiosity.
Before he could take another step, the front doors opened.
Jasper erged quickly, his usual composed expression intact, though there was a trace of urgency in his movent.
He descended the steps and stopped before the young man, bowing his head respectfully.
"Welco, Lord Barron."
The young man’s lips curved into a bright, easy smile. "Jasper," he greeted, his tone familiar. "It’s been a while."
There was no stiffness in his voice or any formality beyond what was necessary. His tone only carried the ease of soone who did not consider himself a stranger here.
He glanced past Jasper briefly, toward the residence. "Is my cousin in?" he asked.
Jasper straightened. "Yes, my lord."
Baron’s smile widened slightly. "Good," he said, almost to himself.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward, and Jasper turned and led the way inside.
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