2

Halo’s POV

“Let us have breakfast,” was all Lucian said before walking past us, almost as if I was like the wind—barely noticed.

Not wanting to waste my chances, I followed behind Lucian without the instruction from the rude butler or that witch. I kept a reasonable distance, my gaze locked on his back as he moved with effortless grace.

Subconsciously, I couldn’t help but admire him. The way the robe clung to his broad shoulders, the smooth curve of his athletic back, taunt with muscle. His firm ass, those long, powerful legs—each step he took seemed to exude authority, confidence, and undeniable allure. Ugh, fuck. I was acting like a pervert, just like him the night we met.

But it didn’t matter. It was impossible not to look. To imagine what it would be like to be closer to him, to feel the weight of his presence, the heat of his skin. He was dangerous, commanding, but also— so fucking beautiful.

I forced my gaze away, struggling to shake off the heat creeping up my neck. But no matter how much I tried to play it cool, there was something about him that made it hard to breathe.

He turned back to give me a look. I guess he felt my gaze, but I didn’t falter. I held my ground, my eyes steady, refusing to look away. But as usual, he looked away almost as if he was avoiding me. If it wasn’t all in my head and he was truly avoiding me, then he remembered…

After we got served, we started eating. Jessica and I were made to sit opposite each other. It would be hard not to lose my appetite with her in sight, but then again, an even hotter person sat at the head of the table, just quietly munching on honeyed pancakes.

Again, Lucian felt my gaze and briefly glanced at me before quickly turning his attention back to his food. It was a fleeting moment, but it felt like more than just a passing look. Something—something—flickered in those eyes.

“What major are you studying?” he asked, the question general but carrying a subtle weight.

Jessica , being the cunt she is, spoke over me, almost yelling, “Theatre Arts.”

Lucian tilted his head slightly, then briefly touched his ear—like he was genuinely bothered by her voice. It was so obvious, even I caught the unspoken message: Pick me, Jessica  was too loud, even for the billionaire. I almost laughed but held it in, instead letting a small smile escape. Jessica  noticed and immediately lowered her head, looking like someone had just slapped her.

Lucian didn’t even bat an eye as he continued, “You want to become a performer?”

“Yes, sir,” Jessica replied with a bob of her head, her voice dripping with the sweet, fake charm she always wore.

Lucian’s response was cold, even dismissive. “What a waste of time.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. I expected him to be cruel to Jessica, but that was… harsh. What about me? What did he think of me?

Before I could even process his words, his gaze flicked back to me, and his voice cut through the air like ice. “Are you mute?”

“Huh? Me?” I asked, looking around as if I might find someone else he could be addressing.

“Yes, you,” Lucian answered flatly, his eyes narrowing. “Answer the question.”

The room seemed to fall silent, the tension hanging thick in the air. I leaned back slightly, trying to steady myself. “Fine arts,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral, then added, “And my name is Halo.”

Lucian didn’t even acknowledge the last part. “I didn’t ask you for that, boy.” His words dripped with disdain, like I was nothing more than an afterthought.

“At least that is something… Kate loved art and paid millions for them so I guess you will be her favorite,” he said quietly then continued eating.

That much, I knew. Kate loved art. Some of the pieces I had made for her still hung around the house, untouched, like frozen memories of a life that no longer existed.

She was the wife of the billionaire widower. The woman who had taken Jessica and me in, given us a home, and made us feel like we belonged—until she was gone.

Even in death, she had left her mark. In her will, she made sure her husband would take care of us. But being taken care of and being wanted were two different things.

And here I was, trying to be something more than just a responsibility. Trying to be a replacement.

So before you judge— know the full story.

Lucian spoke only once during dinner. A single question, a brief exchange, and then silence. When he was finished, he stood and left without a word, disappearing as if the conversation had never even happened.

His absence was quickly filled by William, who wasted no time handing us another set of rules. I barely listened, letting him ramble just to feed his own sense of authority.

“Did you get all that?” he asked one last time as he led us to our rooms.

“Yes,” we replied in unison.

I stepped inside mine, closing the door behind me, but I didn’t stay. Instead, I waited—silent, listening—until the sound of footsteps faded down the hall.

Then, as soon as the coast was clear, I slipped back out.

I dropped my bag by the door, running a hand through my hair as I walked toward the other side of the gallery—the one that was supposed to be off-limits.

Finding his room was easy.

I had played these games before…

I knocked on his door and waited, my heart pounding in anticipation.

A voice came from inside—calm, commanding. “Come in and leave it at the side of the bed.”

I frowned slightly, realizing he had mistaken me for someone else. But that didn’t stop me.

I stepped inside anyway.

The distant sound of running water told me he was in the shower. Steam curled out from the slightly ajar bathroom door, filling the room with a faint warmth.

Taking my time, I walked further in, my eyes scanning the space. The room was just like him—dark, refined, and impossibly expensive. Heavy curtains shut out most of the moonlight, leaving only the soft glow of a bedside lamp to illuminate the space.

I made myself comfortable, settling onto his bed.

If he didn’t remember me yet…

He would soon.

And what better way to jolt his memory than to recreate the way we first met?