Chapter 14 Chapter 14

Chapter 14 Chapter 14
THIRD PERSON POV 

Adrian stands beside the car, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, the night air cool against his skin. The house in front of him glows softly with warm lights spilling through tall windows, laughter and distant music leaking into the quiet street. Everything about this evening feels staged, calculated, and unavoidable. His father’s words echo in his head, firm and unyielding. They must arrive together. Appear united. Perfect.

He exhales slowly, trying to steady the restlessness curling in his chest.

Waiting has never been his strength.

The car idles behind him, headlights cutting pale lines across the driveway. Adrian glances at his watch, then back at the front door. Every passing second tightens the knot in his stomach. He tells himself this is just another obligation, another role he has to play. He has worn masks his entire life. One more should not matter.

Yet it does.

Because she is behind that door.

Lydia.

The door finally opens.

At first, he only notices movement. The soft swish of fabric. The quiet click of heels against stone. Then she steps fully into the light, and the world narrows to her.

Adrian forgets to breathe.

She is dressed in something elegant and understated, the kind of beauty that does not scream for attention but demands it anyway. The fabric falls perfectly against her frame, catching the light with every step she takes. Her hair is styled simply, framing her face in a way that makes her look both untouchable and devastatingly real.

For a moment, he just stares.

This is not the girl who argued with him in class. Not the one who challenged him at every turn. Not the one who kissed him in anger and disappeared afterward.

This Lydia looks like a promise and a warning all at once.

His chest tightens with something dangerously close to awe.

She walks toward him, her expression composed, her posture straight. If she is nervous, she hides it well. Her eyes flick to his for the briefest second before she looks away, as if acknowledging him costs more than she is willing to give.

Adrian straightens instinctively, every instinct in him sharpening. He becomes acutely aware of the space between them, of the fact that tonight they are expected to close that distance and pretend it has always belonged to them.

“You are ready,” he says finally, his voice lower than he intends.

She nods. “So are you.”

The words are simple, but the air between them is anything but.

He opens the car door for her, his movements controlled, deliberate. As she passes him, the faint scent of her perfume reaches him, familiar enough to unsettle him. His fingers twitch at his side, resisting the urge to touch, to anchor himself in something real.

When she settles into the seat, he closes the door gently, then walks around to the other side. His reflection flashes briefly in the car window, sharp and composed, a man who looks like he knows exactly what he is doing.

He does not.

As he gets into the car, he steals one more glance at her. She stares straight ahead, her face unreadable. 

Lydia does not say a single word throughout the drive.

She sits beside him, composed and distant, her attention fixed firmly on the window as the city lights blur past. Her posture is rigid, deliberate, as if she has drawn an invisible line between them that she refuses to cross. Adrian notices the way she keeps her hands folded in her lap, the way her shoulders never relax, the way she never once glances in his direction.

The silence is intentional, and it grates on him more than he expects.

He keeps his focus on the road, jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. If she wants to ignore him, fine. He will not beg for her attention. Still, the awareness of her presence sits heavy in his chest, making the confined space of the car feel even smaller.

As they near the venue, the atmosphere shifts. Noise bleeds through the closed windows first, muffled but unmistakable. Shouts overlap one another, flashes of light reflecting off the windshield in sharp bursts. Adrian slows the car, already bracing himself.

Lydia reacts instantly.

Her body stiffens, every muscle going taut as if she has been struck by an electric current. Her breathing turns shallow, her fingers curling tightly against the fabric of her dress. The controlled mask she has been wearing cracks just enough for him to see what lies beneath.

Discomfort. Anxiety. A quiet kind of fear.

The car comes to a stop, and before the driver can move, Adrian steps out. The noise crashes over him immediately, cameras clicking rapidly, voices calling his name, demanding attention. He ignores them all, circling the front of the car without hesitation.

He opens Lydia’s door and positions himself close enough to shield her from the worst of it. The flashes intensify, bright and relentless, reflecting off the polished exterior of the car. He holds out his hand, steady and expectant.

“Lydia,” he says quietly, his voice calm despite the chaos around them.

Her gaze drops to his hand, lingering as if she is weighing the cost of taking it. Then she looks up at him, her eyes searching his face for something. Whatever she finds there makes her release a slow breath.

With a soft sigh, she places her hand in his.

Her skin is cool against his, and the contact sends a jolt through him that he does not acknowledge. He tightens his grip just enough to be grounding and helps her out of the car.

The moment she steps into the open, the cameras erupt. Shutters snap rapidly, voices shout questions, and the crowd presses closer. Lydia flinches, her body instinctively leaning back.

Adrian slides his arm around her waist without hesitation and pulls her into his chest, anchoring her there. His presence is solid, unyielding, a barrier between her and the noise. Her back fits against him easily, and he adjusts his stance to keep her steady.

Her fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve.

“Stay close,” he murmurs near her ear, low enough that only she can hear.

She does.

To the world watching, it looks effortless. Intimate. Protective.

Only they know how much effort it takes for her not to pull away, and how much restraint it takes for him not to tighten his hold even further.

Adrian keeps his arm firm around her waist as the noise swells, flashes firing from every direction, voices shouting questions that blur into an indistinguishable roar. Lydia’s breath is unsteady against his chest, and he feels the slight tremor in her body that she is trying so hard to hide. He adjusts his hold, grounding her, making it clear to anyone watching that she is not alone.

They move forward together, step by measured step, guided by security through the crowd. Every camera follows them. Every lens captures the image being carefully crafted for the world. The heir and his future fiancée. United. Unbreakable.

Lydia’s fingers tighten in his jacket, and something sharp twists inside him. This is not how it was supposed to feel. This is not supposed to matter.

At the entrance, the noise dulls slightly, the heavy doors looming just ahead. Adrian glances down at her, lowering his voice. “Just a little longer.”

She nods, but she does not look at him.

As they reach the threshold, Lydia finally lifts her gaze. Her eyes meet his, dark and conflicted, filled with something that looks dangerously close to fear. In that brief moment, the performance cracks. The crowd disappears. The cameras fade.

It is just them.

And the unspoken truth between them.

She is trapped.

So is he.

The doors swing open, light spilling over them as applause erupts from inside. Adrian tightens his arm around her waist and steps forward, pulling her with him into the blinding glow.

Behind the smiles, behind the perfect image, something fragile splinters.

And neither of them knows who will be the first to break.