Sera's POV
The Glass Palace always gleamed too brightly in the morning, like the walls themselves tried to blind me into obedience.
I slipped back into its halls after a restless night, my lips still burning with a memory I couldn't erase, a secret I couldn't share.
I didn't expect to find Marcus Valmont waiting.
My father rarely wasted his mornings on me. He ruled from his study, buried in ledgers and calls that spanned continents, his voice clipped and cold as steel. But today, he stood in the center of the marble foyer, hands clasped behind his back, eyes cutting through me like I'd already sinned.
"Seraphina." His voice carried, echoing against the glass. "We need to talk."
My pulse stuttered. He never needed to talk. He only commanded.
A flick of his fingers sent the staff scurrying away until only the two of us remained in the cavernous silence.
"Sit."
I obeyed, lowering myself into the velvet chair by the window, every instinct sharpening.
His gaze was relentless. "Word travels quickly in this city," Marcus began, his voice like ice sliding down glass. "And photographs even faster."
I froze. So it had reached him already.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "A Valmont heir caught in the company of a Blackwell, at dawn no less? What should I call that—diplomacy? Or disgrace?"
"I was handling matters for the fundraiser," I replied, steady but not soft.
"Do not twist duty into an excuse." His tone cracked sharp, final. "The Blackwells are not allies, Seraphina. They are the oldest enemy we have left standing."
The words weren't new. He'd said them to me my entire life. But this time, they struck deeper—because I knew how Sebastian's hand had felt at my waist, how his mouth had stolen my breath, how impossible it was to file him away as simply an enemy.
"Father—"
He cut me off with a raised hand. "Do you remember the Twelfth, Seraphina?"
The room chilled.
"Yes," I whispered.
The dynasty no one spoke of. The house erased from records, its name only a shadow in our crest.
"They forgot themselves," Marcus said, voice low, dangerous. "They chose trust where there should have been suspicion. Affection where there should have been calculation. And they paid the price."
He leaned forward, eyes sharp as blades. "Do not make their mistake. The Blackwells will ruin you. And I will not let my daughter drag this dynasty into the grave."
I lifted my chin, forcing the mask back into place. "Then you should trust me to know where the line is."
His eyes narrowed. "The line, Seraphina, is never with a Blackwell."
The silence stretched, suffocating.
I wanted to scream, to confess, to throw last night in his face and see if the Glass Palace itself would shatter. Instead, I swallowed the fire and let the Queen speak for me.
"As you wish, Father."
But when I rose and walked away, my hands trembled, and I knew—deep in the marrow of my bones—that the line was already broken.
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Sebastian's POV
The Blackwell estate always felt more like a fortress than a home. Cold marble. Dark wood. Portraits of men who stared down from gilded frames as if they'd carved the city with their bare hands.
Sebastian leaned back in the leather chair across from his uncle, Hector Blackwell — the man who pulled strings when his father preferred shadows.
"You're reckless," Hector said without preamble. "Lunchroom theatrics, rooftop strolls—don't think I don't hear about these things. And with her." His eyes sharpened. "The Valmont girl."
Sebastian smirked, but it was thin. "Her name's Seraphina."
Hector's jaw ticked. "Her name is danger. And you would do well to remember it. We've buried dynasties before; don't make us bury our own."
He didn't answer. He wouldn't.
Later, in the quiet of the east wing, Selene found him on the balcony, her silhouette sharp against the city lights.
"You've lost your mind," she said simply. "Humiliating our family in front of half the school? Shielding her like some knight in a fairy tale?"
"She didn't deserve it," Sebastian shot back. "You know that."
Selene's lips curved, not quite a smile. "Since when do you care what anyone deserves?"
He turned toward her then, eyes blazing. "Since her."
That silenced her, if only for a breath.
"You're serious," she said finally, disbelief cutting through her poise.
"For once in my life."
Selene studied him — her twin, her mirror in so many ways — and for the first time, he saw calculation falter into something else. Not approval. Not acceptance. But curiosity.
"I don't understand you," she admitted. "But if you're truly this invested… maybe I should."
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Selene's POV
Later, Selene slipped back into her room, shutting the door with a quiet click. The city shimmered beyond her windows, but she wasn't looking at it.
Sebastian's words still echoed in her head.
She's the only one who doesn't flinch when I bare my teeth.
It unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. Her twin had always been reckless, always chasing chaos — but never like this. Never with her.
Seraphina Valmont.
Selene pressed her fingertips against the glass, eyes narrowing. She had expected him to use Sera as a weapon, a shield, a fleeting thrill. But this… this was something more dangerous.
Because if Sebastian truly meant what he said, then the Valmont girl wasn't just a distraction. She was a threat. Not to their family's legacy — but to Selene's hold on her brother.
And Selene Blackwell did not give up what was hers.
Her reflection in the glass smiled, sharp and cold.
If Seraphina thought she could take Sebastian away, she would soon learn what it meant to make an enemy of his twin.