Chapter 8

Darius's gaze darkened. "Seraphina Lycoris, are you threatening me?" He released Isolde and walked toward me, his tall figure casting a long shadow. He was the type of king who exuded power without needing to raise his voice. That aura of authority was palpable, making it impossible for anyone to look him directly in the eye. The entire bridal shop felt suffocatingly silent. I gritted my teeth, trembling under the weight of his presence. I fought to remain composed. "I just need to tell you something," I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "It'll only take ten minutes..." "Fucking bitch!" Alpha Darius interrupted, his voice cold, dripping with malice. "You don’t have the right to make demands of me!" He leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice to a level only we could hear. "Or maybe you'd like me to release those... disgraceful photos of yours right now? Let everyone see how low you really are before you keep spouting nonsense!" I froze, the sting of his threat slicing through me. He was using my past as a weapon. Darius sneered, his gaze dismissing me entirely. "Seraphina," he spat, "remember this: in my presence, you’re nothing. Don’t try to threaten me, or I’ll grow to loathe you even more." With a dismissive wave, he signaled the two werewolves to throw me out of the bridal shop. I couldn’t accept this, not with The Hawthorne Lineage hanging in the balance. Time was running out. Just as I stood, desperate for another chance, I felt a familiar warmth trickling from my nose. Blood began to pour out—more than I could control. Within moments, my clothes were soaked. Several bystanders gathered around, concerned. Some offered tissues. "Thank you," I murmured, pressing the tissue to my nose, but the bleeding didn’t stop. I went through several packets. "Miss, I think you’ve got a serious condition. This looks bad—you should get to a hospital!" A passerby suggested, eyeing my bloodstained clothes with alarm. "I'm fine," I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge it. "Really, I’m fine. Thank you." I pressed the tissue harder against my nose, trying to walk away from the crowd. Through the glass window, I could see Darius holding Isolde. He looked at her with affection, as if she were the only person in the world. With blood staining my hands, I watched them. Darius seemed to sense something and turned his head. The smile on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, disgusted look as he met my gaze. There wasn’t an ounce of concern, not the slightest hint of surprise—only revulsion. This is how much he despised me… A chill ran through me. I had been sick for so long, but I had never felt this terrible, this utterly invisible, until now. I felt like I was about to collapse from the weight of it all. I quickly turned away, fleeing before I could fall apart completely. I couldn’t even remember when the nosebleed finally stopped. When I came to my senses, my shirt was soaked, and my chin was covered in dried blood. People gave me strange, judgmental looks as I passed by. I hurried into a nearby store, bought some wet wipes, and sat on a park bench to clean myself up. "Seraphina…" A familiar voice called from behind me. I turned to see Damon. It had been years since we'd last seen each other. He had matured—his suit sharp, his posture confident, but there was an exhaustion in his eyes, a weariness that spoke of late nights and hard work. Seeing him like this made a deep guilt rise within me. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice heavy with regret. "Everything that’s gone wrong with your company... it’s all my fault." Damon shook his head, sitting beside me. "Are you sick?" His eyes flicked to the bloodstains on my clothes. "Why are you bleeding so much?" I quickly tried to cover up, but the damage was done. My clothes were soaked through, and there was no hiding it. Instead, I lied. "I’m fine. It’s just… stress. I’ve been getting nosebleeds lately." His gaze softened, concern replacing the confusion. He reached out, gently lifting my chin to meet his eyes. "You know," he said softly, "every time you lie, you blink too much. Seraphina, don’t lie to me. If something's wrong, tell me. I’ll help, no matter what." Tears welled up in my eyes. "This mess with The Hawthorne Lineage… it’s all my fault. I’ve already caused you so much trouble. How can I drag you into this any more?" Damon’s expression suddenly grew more intense. He grabbed my hand, his grip firm. "Are you worried about me, Seraphina?" His voice dropped to a lower, more urgent pitch. "Do you… care about me? Even just a little?"