Chapter 23
Orion continued, "When the Windsor family and the FitzRoy family first arranged the engagement, it was meant to be between the Windsor family's daughter and the FitzRoy family's grandson. Later, due to certain misunderstandings, the engagement fell to Ondi. Now the truth has come to light—Sera is the Windsor family's biological daughter. I believe the engagement should return to its rightful owner."
Wesley and Valencia exchanged a glance, both seeing delight reflected in the other's eyes.
The Windsor and FitzRoy families had been allies for generations. A marriage alliance had been settled long ago.
Before, because Ondi had been adopted, they hadn't felt comfortable saying anything—but privately, they'd had regrets.
Now that Sera was home, if she could marry into the FitzRoy family, it would be a truly fitting match.
"Mr. FitzRoy," Wesley said earnestly, "we have no objections to this. It depends on Sera's feelings."
Orion nodded and turned to Seraphine. "Seraphine, what do you think?"
Every eye in the sitting room landed on Seraphine.
Ondine sat in the corner, her fingers clenched white around her teacup.
She still wore a smile—but it had gone stiff, rigid, like something glued on that might peel away at any moment.
Seraphine set down her magazine and looked up.
Her gaze passed over Orion's face, settled briefly on Octavius, lingered for one second, then withdrew.
Her tone was flat, as if discussing something trivial. "I said before—the engagement should be dissolved."
The sitting room fell silent.
Orion's smile froze.
Wesley and Valencia both stiffened, caught off guard by how cleanly their daughter had refused.
Octavius sat without moving, his expression unchanged, as though he'd anticipated this answer all along.
"Seraphine," Orion said with urgency, leaning forward slightly, "do you have some issue with Octavius? Tell me what it is, and I'll make him fix it. If he's done something wrong, I'll set him straight for you."
"I don't have an issue with him," Seraphine said, her tone unchanged. "I just don't like being arranged."
Orion opened his mouth to respond—but Octavius interrupted him.
"Grandfather." Octavius's voice was low and steady.
He rose to his feet and walked over to stand in front of Seraphine, looking down at her.
Seraphine lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were cool and composed—no nervousness, no shyness, no excess emotion at all.
Octavius looked at her. He was silent for two seconds.
"Ms. Wipere," he said, his voice pitched just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, "I understand that you don't want to be arranged. If you're unwilling, I won't force you."
Wesley and Valencia exchanged surprised looks.
Orion blinked, caught off guard by his grandson's response.
Octavius continued. "However—"
He paused, his gaze heavy and deliberate as it rested on Seraphine. "My feelings won't change. I'll prove it through my actions."
The room fell silent again.
The words weren't explicit—but everyone understood what he meant: Even without an engagement, Octavius intended to pursue Seraphine.
Wesley and Valencia glanced at each other, both startled and quietly pleased.
Ondine's hand trembled against her teacup. Hot tea splashed onto the back of her hand. She jerked back, the cup clattering sharply against the tray.
Everyone turned to look at her.
Ondine quickly rearranged her expression, forcing that obedient smile back onto her face. "Sorry," she said softly. "My hand slipped."
Seraphine glanced at her but said nothing.
Octavius didn't wait for Seraphine's response. He returned to his seat as though he'd simply stated a fact.
Orion looked at his grandson, then at Seraphine, and let out a long sigh.
"All right," he said, waving a hand with a trace of helplessness. "Young people's business is their own. I won't meddle. But Seraphine—I'll say this now: the FitzRoy family's door is always open to you. If you change your mind, you can tell me anytime."
Seraphine was quiet for a moment. Then she gave a faint nod in acknowledgment.
Orion stayed a little longer, exchanging pleasantries, before rising to take his leave.
Wesley and Valencia saw them to the door. Ondine stood in the doorway of the sitting room, watching Octavius's figure disappear outside.
She wore a smile. Beneath it, hatred churned like a rising tide.
Seraphine.
Ondine took a deep breath and turned back into the sitting room.
Seraphine was still reading her magazine, not even glancing up.
Ondine stopped in front of her, her smile sweet as sugar. "Seraphine, Mr. FitzRoy is so kind to you. I'm almost jealous."
Seraphine turned a page. Her tone was mild. "Is that so?"
Ondine's smile didn't falter, but her nails had already dug crescents into her palm.
She turned and left the room, heading back to her bedroom. The moment she closed the door, the smile vanished completely.
She stood at the window, staring out at the courtyard below, her eyes dark and cold.
After Orion and Octavius left, Wesley and Valencia called Seraphine into the study.
The study was on the second floor, its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden behind the estate. The view was excellent.
Wesley sat behind his desk. Valencia pulled Seraphine down onto the sofa beside her, holding her hand but not speaking right away.
Seraphine looked at her mother. After a moment, she asked, "Mom, what is it?"
Valencia chose her words carefully. "Sera, about Mr. Orion FitzRoy's proposal today… won't you reconsider?"
"No." Seraphine's answer was immediate and firm.
"Why not?" Wesley couldn't help but ask, leaning forward slightly. "Sera, I'm not trying to pressure you—I just want to understand your thinking. I've watched Octavius grow up. His character, his abilities—there's nothing to criticize. The FitzRoy family's standing, their values—you've seen it yourself. Are you… dissatisfied with him?"
Seraphine was silent for a moment.
She withdrew her gaze, her tone flat. "It's not that. I just don't want to talk about these things right now. I only just came back to the Windsor family. I'm still adjusting. An engagement feels too far away. I don't know him. I don't want to spend my life with someone I don't understand."
Marriages in elite families were often arranged. Wesley and Valencia themselves had been matched through family connections—though they'd grown to love each other afterward.
That was why Seraphine's firm refusal had taken them by surprise.
Wesley opened his mouth to say more, but Valencia stopped him.
"That's enough," she said. "Sera has her own thoughts. Let's not push her. Matters of the heart can't be rushed."
Wesley sighed but said nothing more.
Once the conversation ended, Seraphine left.
Valencia watched her daughter's retreating figure, suddenly recalling that conversation in the car—the way Seraphine had said, "After that, it wasn't good anymore," with such calm detachment. It had made her heart ache.
"Wesley," Valencia turned to her husband, "there's something I need to tell you."