Moti writes

SHADOW OF THE BLACKWOOD HOUSE
Chapter Thirty-One: Laughter in the Quiet
WRITTEN BY O.M(Moti writes )
————-

The rain came in slow sheets, drumming steadily against the tall windows of the Blackwood estate. It was the kind of storm that made the world outside blur into grays and silvers, pressing the family deeper into the warmth of the house.

Alexander had always hated storms. They reminded him of funerals, of graveside umbrellas and black coats slick with water. But tonight, he found himself in the living room instead of his study, where the fire glowed low and the television flickered with color.

Selene sat cross-legged on the rug, Zara sprawled in her lap with her stuffed rabbit clutched to her chest. Julian lay on a soft blanket, kicking his little legs in restless delight. Alexander had lowered himself onto the couch, but he wasn’t working, wasn’t brooding over the past. He was simply… there.

It felt strange.

On the screen, a cartoon played, the kind of silly thing he normally tuned out. But Zara’s laughter…..bright, uninhibited….was infectious. She squealed at every ridiculous joke, clapping her hands as if she were watching a masterpiece.

“Daddy, look!” she cried, pointing at the screen. “The bunny fell again!”

Alexander glanced at the tumbling animated creature, and then at his daughter’s face. For the first time in weeks, his lips tugged into an unguarded smile. “Clumsy little thing, isn’t it?”

Selene looked up at that moment, her eyes catching the curve of his mouth. She said nothing, but a warmth touched her features. She hadn’t seen him smile….truly smile…..since she entered this house.

⸻

As the storm raged outside, the evening slipped into something different.

Selene began to mimic the cartoon characters, giving them dramatic voices that had Zara in stitches. Even Julian gurgled happily, as if caught in the spell of her playfulness.

Alexander found himself watching, fascinated. The way Selene leaned into Zara’s joy, the way her voice carried, filling the room with life…..it was something he hadn’t realized the house had been missing.

“You’re wasting your talent,” he said suddenly, his tone dry but tinged with amusement.

Selene blinked, halfway through voicing a pirate character. “Excuse me?”

“You should’ve gone into theater. Or children’s television.” His eyes gleamed faintly, the shadow of his old humor surfacing.

Selene arched a brow, trying not to laugh. “And give up cooking and diaper duty? What a tragedy that would be.”

Zara gasped. “Miss Selene’s funny!”

That broke them both. Alexander chuckled…….low, surprising even himself….and Selene’s laughter slipped out like sunlight through clouds. The sound filled the room, weaving itself into the fire’s crackle, into the storm’s rhythm outside.

For a moment, Alexander let himself sink into it.

⸻

Later, when the cartoons ended and Zara demanded a fort, Selene and Alexander found themselves conscripted. Cushions were dragged, blankets stretched across chairs. Zara declared it a castle, Julian its baby prince, and Selene the queen.

“And Daddy?” Zara asked, climbing onto the cushions.

Alexander raised a brow. “Yes, princess?”

“You’re the grumpy guard.”

Selene smothered a laugh, her eyes sparkling. “Fitting,” she murmured.

Alexander gave her a look that was all mock offense, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him again, twitching upward. Without argument, he crouched by the blanket fort, playing his role as Zara commanded.

Julian babbled from Selene’s arms, and she pressed a kiss to his head. When she looked up, Alexander’s gaze lingered a moment too long, softening before he turned away.

⸻

By the time Zara had fallen asleep inside her castle, sprawled on cushions with her rabbit, the storm outside had thinned to drizzle. Selene carefully carried Julian to his crib, her movements gentle and sure.

When she returned to the living room, Alexander was still there, leaning back on the couch, the faintest trace of a smile still on his lips.

“You should go rest,” he said quietly. “I’ll clean this up.”

Selene tilted her head, surprised. “Mr. Blackwood, you don’t….”

“I do,” he interrupted, his voice soft but firm.

For a heartbeat, their eyes held. Something unspoken passed between them….fragile, not yet named. Alexander broke it first, turning toward the mess of cushions.

Selene stood for a moment longer, then murmured, “Goodnight, Mr. Blackwood.”

He glanced at her, just once, before returning to the cushions. “Goodnight, Selene.”

She slipped away, but Alexander found himself listening to the faint sound of her footsteps down the hall long after she was gone.

And when he finally lay in bed that night, he realized his chest felt lighter. For the first time in years, laughter…..not grief…..echoed through the walls of his home.

SHADOW OF THE BLACKWOOD HOUSE
Chapter Thirty: The Return
Written by O.M(Moti writes)
———

The private jet hummed like a restless heart, carrying Alexander back through gray skies. He was supposed to stay another two days in Montreal, closing the deal, pressing signatures into permanence, but every time he sat at the boardroom table, every time he tried to pore over numbers, a voice inside him whispered, Go home.

He had masked it with excuses….told his partners he needed to personally oversee matters in the city, that the children required him. But beneath the polished mask of logic lay the truth he dared not speak: the thought of Selene in his house, with Zara and Julian, would not leave him alone. The memory of her rocking Julian against her chest, of Zara crowning her with a tiara, looped through his mind with unnerving persistence.

Now, as the jet touched down on the private runway, he felt a strange tug in his chest. Not relief. Not yet. Something heavier.

The driver met him at the terminal, doors swinging open with perfect precision. The city blurred past as the car rolled toward the estate. Twilight painted the sky in bruised purples, and the closer they came, the tighter his grip grew on the armrest.

When the gates of the Blackwood mansion groaned open, a chill slid down his spine. The house loomed, its windows reflecting dying light, its frame a silhouette against the encroaching dark. He told himself it was exhaustion, the shadows of travel playing tricks.

But as soon as his shoes clicked against the marble of the foyer, he knew…..something was different.

The air itself felt weighted. Heavy. As though the walls were holding their breath.

“Mr. Blackwood?” Selene’s voice drifted from the hallway.

He turned, and for the briefest moment, the tension eased. She appeared with Julian on her hip, Zara tugging at her skirt, her presence softening the hard edges of the house. Selene looked surprised to see him so soon, her wide eyes flicking over him before lowering politely.

“You’re back early.”

He nodded once, unbuttoning his coat. “The meeting concluded faster than expected.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

Julian stirred, his tiny fists curling. Zara squealed, rushing forward to throw herself at his legs. “Daddy!”

He bent, scooping her up, the weight of her small body grounding him. Yet even as she chattered about her day, his eyes kept straying back to Selene. She looked tired….shadows beneath her eyes, strands of hair escaping her bun. And yet, she carried herself with the same quiet steadiness that had become the axis of his household.

Still, something in her eyes mirrored what he felt. She, too, had sensed it.

⸻

Dinner was simple…..roast chicken, vegetables softened with butter. The children were noisy, Zara insisting her stuffed rabbit be served at the table, Julian pounding his fists when his food came too slow. Selene managed it all with a patience Alexander envied, smiling softly even as her hands moved faster than anyone else’s.

But he noticed. The way her gaze flicked toward the far corners of the room, as if expecting to see movement. The way her shoulders tensed for a heartbeat when the chandelier above them trembled, though no draft stirred.

He didn’t speak of it. Not yet.

After dinner, he carried Zara upstairs, her sleepy head resting against his shoulder. Julian was already half-asleep in Selene’s arms, his tiny breaths steady. Together, they laid the children down, silent guardians at their bedsides.

And then the house settled into a hush.

⸻

It was near midnight when Alexander stepped into his study. He poured himself a whiskey, the amber liquid catching faint glimmers of light. He hadn’t touched a drop during his trip…..his mind too crowded. But now, the glass steadied his hands.

He sat, staring at the fire. Yet even here, where the crackle of flame should have offered comfort, the shadows seemed to shift unnaturally. They stretched too far, curling along the bookshelves like fingers reaching.

The whiskey burned his throat. He set the glass down harder than he intended.

From the hallway, a soft sound…..like a whisper.

He froze, muscles taut.

The whisper grew, layered, indistinct. A chorus, not a voice. He stood, jaw clenched, moving to the door. When he opened it, the hall stretched long and empty, candlelight flickering.

“Imagination,” he muttered under his breath.

But the word rang hollow.

⸻

Selene, in her small room down the corridor, sat awake as well. She hadn’t slept deeply since entering this house, not with the way its walls breathed. Tonight was worse. The air pressed against her chest, thick and electric.

She had sensed it as soon as Alexander walked back in…,.that the house had grown darker in his absence, heavier, and now it pressed against both of them.

Her hand brushed against the wooden charm tucked discreetly beneath her pillow…..a ward her grandmother had given her long ago. She whispered a silent prayer, not for herself, but for the children. Always for the children.

And then, as though carried on that prayer, she felt it: the house exhaling, a long sigh through the walls.

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, whispering to the darkness, “Not tonight. You won’t touch them tonight.”

⸻

Alexander returned to the children’s room before dawn, restless, unable to stay in bed. He found Selene already there, rocking Julian who had stirred awake. She looked up when he entered, and for a fleeting heartbeat, something softened in his chest.

The weight of the house was still there. The shadows still pressed. But in this small room, where Selene sat with his son and his daughter slept safe, the darkness seemed held at bay.

And Alexander, though he would never admit it aloud, was glad he had come home early.

SHADOW OF THE BLAVKWOOD HOUSE Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Shadow’s Touch
WRITTEN BY O.M (Moti writes)
———-

The morning broke with a sharp chill, the kind that clung to glass and whispered of storms. Alexander stood in the foyer, suitcase in hand, his coat drawn tight. Selene hovered near the doorway, Zara clutching her leg while Julian fussed against her shoulder.

“I’ll be gone four days,” he said, his voice even, almost detached. “Montreal….meetings I can’t push aside.” His gaze flicked briefly to the children, then hesitant to Selene. “Take care of them.”

Selene nodded softly. “Safe travels, Mr. Blackwood.”

The door closed, and with it, the weight of his absence settled like fog.

The city skyline of Montreal glittered through the tinted glass of Alexander’s hotel suite, a sprawl of silver towers and neon veins cutting the night. He should have been preparing for the morning’s presentation,contracts, negotiations, numbers. Instead, he sat at the desk with untouched papers spread before him, the pen idle in his hand.

His thoughts refused to stay tethered.

He leaned back, exhaling sharply, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Focus, Alex. That’s what he told himself. But the image that rose wasn’t a balance sheet,it was the memory of Selene laughing at Zara’s joke about tea-drinking rabbits. The sound of it, bright and unguarded, echoed in his head like a melody he hadn’t realized he missed.

He muttered under his breath, almost angrily, It’s the kids. I miss the kids.

That was the excuse. It had always been the excuse. He could live with it.

But the truth dug deeper. Every time he pictured Zara’s curls or Julian’s tiny fists, Selene’s face appeared beside them,her calm voice soothing the boy, her hands guiding Zara with patient tenderness.

Alexander downed the whiskey in his glass, the amber burning his throat. He told himself it was the ache of fatherhood. Yet in the pit of his chest, something else pulsed.

⸻

Back at the penthouse, night settled heavy. The corridors were thick with silence, broken only by the soft crackle of the heater and the distant hum of the city outside.

Selene had just tucked Zara into bed, the girl murmuring sleepily, “Tell Daddy to hurry home.” Selene smiled, smoothing the blanket, though her stomach twisted.

Julian stirred restlessly in her arms. He’d been fussier than usual, his tiny brow furrowed as though he sensed something she couldn’t. Or rather, something she could.

The air shifted. Cold, unnatural.

Selene’s eyes flicked to the corner of the nursery.

They were there.

Two creatures, crawling from the shadowed edges of the room, their forms long and warped, their movements spider-like yet disturbingly human. Their skin was stretched too tight over jagged bones, their mouths opening and closing soundlessly, as though tasting the air.

Selene’s pulse thundered, but her face remained calm. She had practiced this mask well. With steady steps, she moved to the rocking chair and sat, Julian held close to her chest, rocking him gently.

She hummed a lullaby. Pretending. Acting.

The creatures lurked, circling, their heads twitching in sharp, unnatural angles. One paused, its hollow eyes flicking toward her, but Selene kept her gaze fixed on Julian. Her heart screamed, Don’t see them. Don’t let them know you see.

But then….

One moved closer.

It crouched over the cradle where Julian had lain earlier, its elongated hand reaching out, fingers tipped in blackened claws. It stretched toward Julian, its index finger hovering inches from his forehead.

Julian’s face contorted. He let out a shrill, piercing wail that shook Selene to her bones.

Something inside her snapped.

“Enough,” she whispered.

The lullaby cut off. Her voice dropped, low and ancient, a language that hadn’t been spoken in centuries spilling from her lips. The incantation vibrated through the air, each syllable a blade slicing through the unnatural silence.

The creature froze. Its finger hovered in the air, trembling. Then it shrieked, a sound that rattled the windows and sent Zara bolting upright in her bed, crying out for Selene.

The other creature convulsed, its form writhing as if set aflame by invisible fire.

Selene’s chant grew louder, her eyes burning with focus. “By the old blood, by the sight given, I bind you. Be gone!”

Light….not fire, not flame, but something raw and white flickered at her fingertips. It shot out, invisible to human eyes but slicing straight into the creatures. They shrieked again, bodies unraveling like smoke caught in wind.

And then…silence.

They were gone.

Julian sobbed into her shoulder, his tiny fists gripping her blouse, his cries slowly ebbing into whimpers as she rocked him.

Selene sat in the nursery, trembling. Her body felt weak, her breath shallow, sweat beading on her forehead. But her eyes were hard, steady.

Because now she knew.

The creatures weren’t just shadows at the edge of her sight. They weren’t illusions she could ignore. They wanted the children…wanted Julian. And she would never let them have him.

⸻

Hours later, Alexander sat at his hotel window, staring at the skyline, restless. The whiskey bottle was half-empty, the papers untouched.

He thought of Zara’s laughter, of Julian’s tiny breath against Selene’s chest, of the warmth waiting for him in that penthouse.

He clenched his jaw, refusing to name what he really longed for.

Back home, Selene tucked Julian back into his cradle, smoothed Zara’s curls until the child drifted into peaceful sleep, and sat in the darkness, her hands shaking, whispering to herself:

“You won’t have them. Not while I still breathe.”

The mist outside the window swirled faintly, pressing against the glass like fingers searching for a way in.

But the penthouse, for now, held firm.

SHADOW OF THE BLACKWOOD HOUSE
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Shadows of Habit
WRITTEN BY O.M(Moti writes)
———-
The boardroom was a blur. Numbers, projections, voices….they all circled around Alexander, but he wasn’t listening. His fingers drummed against the polished mahogany table, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed on the clock mounted high on the wall.

Five more minutes.

No, ten. Enough to make his exit look justified.

“Mr. Blackwood?” The voice of his CFO snapped him back. “Do you approve the projected expansion for the third quarter?”

Alexander blinked. For a fraction of a second, he didn’t know what had been said. Then he nodded, his voice clipped. “Yes. Proceed.”

The man smiled, reassured, and the room moved on.

But Alexander’s thoughts had already slipped elsewhere.

He told himself it was the children. Zara with her boundless chatter, Julian with his endless crying fits. Of course he wanted to be home for them. Of course he wanted to relieve Selene…..she worked tirelessly, and though he never said it aloud, he respected the way she had settled into their lives without hesitation.

That was the logic. That was what he told himself.

But logic didn’t explain the way he watched the minutes crawl until the meeting adjourned. Or the way his driver raised a brow when he ordered him to skip the late stop at the office, to take him straight home.

⸻

The penthouse was alive when he stepped in. The hum of voices, the scent of something warm and savory, the faint notes of a lullaby drifting from the living room.

He paused in the entryway, loosening his tie, listening.

Selene’s voice.

Low and gentle, weaving through the air like silk.

He stepped into the living room and there she was….sitting cross-legged on the rug with Zara beside her, Julian cradled against her chest. Zara was clapping along to a song Selene hummed, curls bouncing, her laughter bubbling. Julian slept soundly, his tiny breaths even and soft.

The scene stopped him cold.

It was simple. Ordinary. Yet it was something his house hadn’t known in months. Warmth. Life. A rhythm that wasn’t forced.

Selene looked up then, startled at his presence, her cheeks flushing as though caught off guard. “Mr. Blackwood. You’re home early.”

He cleared his throat, masking the sudden hitch in his chest. “Meetings ended ahead of schedule.”

A lie. But it rolled easily off his tongue.

Zara scrambled up and ran to him, clutching his leg. “Daddy! Selene taught me a new song!”

Alexander bent, lifting her into his arms, but his eyes flicked back to Selene. She was settling Julian into the cradle now, her hands careful, her posture soft. The cream of her blouse caught the lamplight, glowing faintly against her skin.

He looked away quickly.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, rising to her feet. Her voice was composed, but he didn’t miss the faint pink still lingering on her cheeks.

Alexander nodded. “Good.” His voice came out rougher than intended.

⸻

Dinner was quiet, but not the suffocating silence he had grown used to. Zara filled the space with chatter, proudly recounting every detail of her day. Selene listened patiently, nodding, laughing at all the right places. Alexander ate slowly, his gaze drifting more often than he realized.

The way she cut Zara’s food with delicate precision. The way she wiped a bit of jam from Julian’s chin with absent care. The way her hair slipped loose from its pins, falling over her shoulder, and she tucked it back without thought.

Small things. Insignificant.

Except he noticed every one.

At one point, Zara cracked a joke only a child could think of….something about rabbits having secret tea parties and Selene laughed, sudden and bright. Alexander felt his lips twitch, almost against his will, until a low chuckle escaped him.

It startled him.

When was the last time he’d laughed like that?

He stared at his plate afterward, shaken by the ease of it. By how natural it had felt.

⸻

Later, when the children were asleep, Alexander lingered in the kitchen under the pretense of pouring himself a drink. Selene was tidying the counters, her movements efficient, quiet.

He found himself watching her again too long, longer than polite. The lines of her back as she reached for a dish, the curve of her wrist, the steadiness of her hands.

Something in his chest shifted, subtle but undeniable.

“Thank you,” he said abruptly.

She paused, turning slightly. “For what?”

“For… everything. The children. The house.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “It’s… easier with you here.”

Her lips parted, surprise flickering in her eyes. Then she smiled softly, a small, almost shy curve of her mouth. “It’s my job, Mr. Blackwood.”

He swallowed hard, looking away. “Right. Your job.”

But the words rang hollow. Because he knew,though he’d never admit it that it wasn’t just the children he came home early for anymore.

⸻

That night, lying in bed, Alexander stared at the ceiling, whiskey glass untouched on the nightstand.

He replayed the evening over and over: Zara’s laughter, Julian’s tiny breaths, Selene’s soft humming in the background.

And then, unbidden, the memory of her laugh when Zara had made the rabbit joke. The way her eyes had lit up.

He closed his own, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. A real smile. The first in a long time.

He didn’t notice the clock ticking past midnight.

He only noticed that, for the first time in years, the silence of his bedroom didn’t feel quite so empty

SHADOW OF THE BLACKWOOD HOUSE
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Princess in Cream
WRITTEN BY O.M(Moti writes)
————

Morning light spilled through the tall windows of the penthouse, soft and golden, brushing over polished marble floors and catching on the edges of glass. The house was stirring slowly, the quiet hum of life replacing the silence of night.

Selene moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, preparing Zara’s toast while balancing Julian on one hip. He was a fussy bundle that morning, tiny fists batting the air, his mouth working restlessly. She rocked him gently as she spread jam across the bread, humming low under her breath.

Her eyes kept flicking toward the paper bag tucked neatly on the counter.

The dress.

It felt surreal even to think it. Gifts were not part of her life….at least, not gifts meant for her. Everything she owned had been practical, necessary. Clothing to wear, shoes to walk in, coats to keep out the cold. But this…

The dress had been folded with delicate precision, the cream fabric smooth and perfect, almost glowing in the light. Selene had taken it out once before bed, her hands trembling, and had pressed it carefully back into its tissue wrapping as though she were unworthy of its touch.

Now it lingered in the corner of her mind like a secret.

“Selene,” Zara’s small voice interrupted her thoughts. The girl was sitting at the table, legs swinging, her curls bouncing with each movement. She pointed with her tiny jam-stained finger. “What’s in the bag?”

Selene hesitated. Her lips parted, closed again. Finally, she smiled softly, evasively. “Something Mr. Knight brought home.”

Zara’s eyes widened. “For you?”

Selene shifted Julian carefully against her shoulder, cheeks warming. “Yes. For me.”

The little girl gasped, clapping her hands together. “Then you have to try it! Right now!”

Selene laughed gently, shaking her head. “Not right now. Breakfast first. Otherwise, your toast will get cold.”

But Zara was relentless, her childlike excitement bubbling over. She wriggled in her seat, bouncing. “Please, Selene? Please, please, please?”

Selene sighed, defeated. Her heart raced, though she couldn’t say why. Maybe it was Zara’s unfiltered joy, or maybe it was the memory of Alexander’s calm, unreadable face as he’d handed her the bag, his voice steady while something unspoken flickered in his eyes.

“All right,” she murmured at last. “But only for a moment.”

⸻

She carried the bag to her room, Zara skipping at her heels, Julian tucked safely in her arms. She set the baby gently in his cradle, rocking it with one hand while Zara hovered impatiently.

Selene unwrapped the dress slowly, reverently, as though it were something holy. The fabric slid like water between her fingers, cool and impossibly soft. She held it against herself in the mirror for a moment, studying the contrast of cream against caramel skin, and her breath caught.

It was beautiful.

“Put it on!” Zara urged, tugging at her sleeve. “Please?”

Selene hesitated. It felt indulgent, dangerous even, to slip into something that had no purpose except beauty. But under Zara’s expectant gaze, her resistance crumbled.

She changed quickly, her fingers fumbling with the zipper, her pulse drumming in her ears. When she turned to the mirror, she hardly recognized herself.

The dress fell in graceful lines, hugging gently at the waist before flowing down, light and airy. The neckline was modest yet elegant, the kind of cut that flattered without effort. Against her skin, the cream glowed warm, highlighting the depth of her complexion.

Her hair was unpinned, falling loosely over her shoulders, and she brushed a strand back self-consciously.

For a long moment, Selene simply stared. She wasn’t extravagant. She wasn’t glamorous. She was the caretaker, the one who blended into the background, who made sure others were seen. But in that reflection… she looked different. She looked….

“Like a princess,” Zara whispered.

Selene blinked, startled.

Zara stood in the doorway, eyes wide with awe, her little hands clutching her rabbit to her chest. “You look like a princess,” she repeated, her voice hushed with wonder.

Heat rose to Selene’s cheeks, and she laughed softly, embarrassed. “Oh, sweetheart…”

But Zara was serious, nodding with conviction. “You’re my princess,” she declared firmly. Then she scrambled forward, wrapping her arms around Selene’s legs, careful not to crush the fabric. “I wish Daddy could see you like this.”

Selene froze.

The words lingered in the air, innocent yet heavy, echoing louder than Zara could possibly understand. She bent down quickly, hugging the child close, hiding her expression in those dark curls.

“Thank you, Zara,” she whispered, her voice trembling faintly.

Behind them, Julian stirred, his small cries beginning to fill the air. Selene drew back, smoothing Zara’s hair before slipping from the dress. She folded it carefully, almost reverently, as though afraid to damage its perfection.

But as she laid it back into the bag, she allowed herself one last glance in the mirror. Just a fleeting moment to hold onto that vision…the woman she barely recognized.

⸻

Later, when Alexander returned home, the dress was once again folded neatly away, hidden behind the ordinary rhythms of the household. Selene was back in her simple clothes, her hair pinned up, her arms full with Julian while she guided Zara through her bedtime routine.

The children laughed, the room warmed with the glow of lamps, and Selene moved among it all with quiet grace.

But somewhere in the back of her mind lingered Zara’s words.

“You look like a princess.”

And though she would never admit it aloud, Selene carried the memory like a secret flame, one she wasn’t ready to let go of.

SHADOW OF THE BLACKWOOD HOUSE
Chapter Twenty-Six: A Dress in the Window
WRITTEN BY O.M(Moti writes)
———-

The day had dragged.

Meetings stacked on top of each other, numbers presented, contracts signed, voices droning in endless loops. Normally, Alexander thrived in this world,sharp, commanding, untouchable. But today his mind betrayed him.

Every pause, every quiet moment between negotiations, his thoughts strayed. Not to the boardroom. Not to the stock market. To the penthouse. To the children. And reluctantly to her.

Selene.

He saw flashes of her in the smallest things. When he signed a document and caught the faint scent of ink, he remembered the way she guided Zara’s hand when the little girl colored, her patience endless. When he overheard laughter in the hallway, he thought of Zara’s giggles at breakfast, how Selene had leaned close to whisper something that made the child beam.

And then, leaving the building that evening, he saw it.

A dress.

The shop was discreet, elegant, the kind of boutique where the mannequins seemed to look down at you as if daring you to enter. He should’ve walked past. He had a driver waiting, paperwork in his briefcase, calls still unanswered. But he stopped.

The dress was simple. A soft cream color, sleeveless, flowing down in clean lines. Nothing extravagant. But Alexander’s mind betrayed him again,he pictured Selene in it. The caramel warmth of her skin against the pale fabric, the way it would move when she bent to scoop Julian into her arms, the way Zara would no doubt clap her hands and call her “princess.”

It was ridiculous. Irrational. He almost scoffed aloud.

And yet… he stepped inside.

The bell chimed softly as he entered. The saleswoman’s eyes lit up with recognition,everyone knew who Alexander Knight was…but he cut off her rehearsed greeting with a pointed gesture toward the display.

“That one,” he said. “In her size.”

He didn’t question how he knew. He had noticed, without meaning to. The length of her arms when she folded laundry, the line of her waist when she reached the high shelves. He knew.

Minutes later, he left the store with a crisp bag in hand.

He told himself it was practical. A gesture of appreciation for the woman keeping his house intact. A reward. Nothing more.

But the thought lingered as the car wound through the city: the image of Selene wearing it, laughing with the children, bringing light into a house that had been drowning in shadows.

⸻

The penthouse was quiet when he arrived.

Too quiet.

For a heartbeat, dread pricked at him…memories of the night before, the fire, the scratching claws…but then he stepped into the living room and the sight stopped him cold.

Selene sat on the couch, head tilted back, lashes fanned against her cheeks in sleep. Julian lay sprawled across her chest, his tiny fists curled in dreams, his cheek pressed into her collarbone. Zara was tucked against her side, rabbit clutched under her chin, her little body nestled against Selene as though she had found the safest place in the world.

The scene was… still. Sacred.

Alexander froze in the doorway, bag dangling forgotten at his side.

The evening light filtered through the tall windows, casting Selene in soft gold. Her skin glowed warm, her lips parted slightly as she breathed evenly. A strand of hair had slipped loose across her cheek, and Julian’s tiny fingers clutched at it unconsciously. Zara murmured in her sleep, nuzzling closer to Selene’s arm.

Something twisted in Alexander’s chest.

He wasn’t used to staring…he had no time for indulgence, for idle thoughts but his eyes lingered. Longer than they should. He noticed details he had no business noticing. The sweep of her lashes, darker than ink. The fullness of her lips, soft and unguarded in rest. The way her body curved protectively around both children, as though they were her own.

Beautiful.

The word crossed his mind unbidden, sharp as lightning.

He drew in a breath, steadying himself. This wasn’t… this couldn’t…

Selene stirred.

Her lashes fluttered open, and for a heartbeat she looked confused, caught between sleep and wakefulness. Then her eyes widened, and she scrambled upright, nearly disturbing the children.

“Mr. Blackwood ,” she blurted, voice flustered. “I—I’m so sorry. I must have….” She glanced down at Julian and Zara, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep while rocking him. I should’ve….”

“It’s fine.” Alexander cut her off, his voice calm, even. Too calm. The practiced mask of indifference slipped neatly into place, hiding the turmoil beneath.

Selene blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh. Thank you, sir.”

Alexander crossed the room, setting the bag on the coffee table with a muted thud. He didn’t explain, didn’t elaborate. “This is for you.”

Her brows knitted. “For me?”

“Consider it a gesture of… acknowledgment,” he said, the word chosen carefully. Detached. Safe.

Selene hesitated, reaching for the bag as though it might bite her. She pulled back the tissue paper and gasped softly. Her fingers brushed the fabric reverently, eyes widening.

“Sir, this is…0” She looked up quickly, her voice faltering. “It’s too much.”

“It’s appropriate,” Alexander replied curtly, though his gaze lingered a second too long on her expression. On the way the cream fabric glowed against her skin even now, untried.

Selene closed the bag carefully, as though afraid of damaging it. “Thank you,” she said softly, genuine warmth in her voice.

For a moment, silence hung between them. Zara stirred, murmuring in her sleep. Julian shifted against Selene’s chest, sighing contentedly. The house was bathed in golden twilight, quiet except for the sound of three steady breaths.

Alexander turned away first. “Get some rest when you can. You’re no good to me exhausted.”

Selene nodded, her cheeks still tinged with color. “Yes, sir.”

He moved toward his study, the weight of his mask pressing heavier than ever.

But when he closed the door behind him, Alexander leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly. The image clung to him—the dress, the children curled against her, the softness of her features in sleep.

He told himself it was nothing.

And yet, for the first time in years, the thought of home didn’t feel suffocating.

It felt… tempting.