Ophelia didn’t like Celestine.
At all.
Which was impressive considering they had only spoken for less than five minutes.
There was just something about her smile that felt wrong.
Too calm.
Too controlled.
Like she already knew things nobody else did.
And honestly?
That terrified Ophelia more than the attack earlier.
Because dangerous people usually looked dangerous.
Celestine didn’t.
That was the problem.
“My lady?”
Ophelia blinked.
One of the servants stood nearby now, waiting nervously.
“Your room has been prepared.”
Right.
Room.
Existing.
Functioning like a normal person.
She could do that.
Probably.
Ophelia looked at Alekxander one more time.
He was still watching Celestine carefully.
And Celestine was watching him back.
Tension.
Again.
These people seriously needed therapy.
“I’m leaving before another secret tries to attack me,” Ophelia muttered.
A servant looked confused.
Alekxander almost smiled again.
That man really needed to commit to smiling properly one day.
Without another word, Ophelia followed the servants inside.
The inside of the Vale estate somehow felt colder than outside.
Not physically.
Just… emotionally.
The hallways were quiet.
Too quiet.
Even the servants walked carefully.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody talked loudly.
It felt less like a home and more like people surviving together professionally.
Ophelia glanced around as she walked.
Large portraits covered the walls.
Most of them looked equally unhappy.
“Do all noble families here look miserable?” she whispered.
The servant beside her froze slightly.
“My lady?”
“Nothing.”
Probably best not to insult the ancestors.
The servant stopped in front of a large door finally.
“Your room.”
Ophelia nodded slowly before stepping inside.
Then paused.
Okay.
Now this was ridiculous.
The room was huge.
Bigger than her entire apartment back in London.
There was a fireplace near the far wall, large windows, bookshelves, and enough space to host emotional breakdowns comfortably.
Which honestly felt useful right now.
The servants quietly placed her things down before leaving.
The second the door closed behind them.
Silence.
Real silence.
Ophelia exhaled slowly and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Her head still hurt slightly from the visions earlier.
And the more they happened, the more exhausted she felt afterward.
That probably wasn’t good.
She rubbed her forehead tiredly.
“What exactly did I wake up into?”
No answer.
Unfortunately.
Ophelia looked around the room again. This story is hosted at g.com.
Then her eyes landed on something near the bookshelf.
A portrait.
Small.
Half-hidden behind other objects.
Curious, she stood up slowly and walked toward it.
The woman in the painting looked familiar.
Dark hair.
Calm eyes.
Elegant dress.
And standing beside her.
A younger Alekxander.
Ophelia blinked.
He looked different.
Still serious.
But softer somehow.
Less… alone.
Her gaze shifted back toward the woman.
The second her fingers touched the frame.
The vision came immediately.
Laughter.
Warm this time.
A garden.
The same woman smiling gently at Alekxander.
“You worry too much.”
Young Alekxander frowned.
“Someone has to.”
The woman laughed softly.
“You’re still a child.”
Then the memory shifted suddenly.
Rain.
Screaming.
The woman lying on the ground.
Blood spreading beneath her dress.
Young Alekxander kneeling beside her desperately.
And for the first time.
Ophelia heard him break.
“Mother…”
The vision shattered violently.
Ophelia stumbled backward immediately.
Her breathing turned uneven again.
Oh.
Oh no.
That was his mother.
A knock suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Alekxander stepped inside.
Ophelia nearly jumped.
“Do people in this world not wait for permission before entering rooms?”
His gaze landed on the portrait in her hands instantly.
And his expression changed.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
“She was my mother,” he said calmly.
Right.
No escaping that conversation now.
Ophelia carefully placed the portrait down.
“I figured that out eventually.”
Alekxander walked further inside the room slowly.
“You touched it.”
Again with that tone.
Like he already knew exactly what happened.
Ophelia crossed her arms.
“You know, normal people usually panic when someone says they’re seeing visions.”
“You’re not normal.”
Well.
That was rude.
Also true unfortunately.
Silence settled between them for a moment.
Then Ophelia looked at him carefully.
“She died young.”
Alekxander’s jaw tightened slightly.
“Yes.”
Ophelia hesitated before speaking again.
“You loved her.”
His gaze shifted toward her slowly.
And for the first time since meeting him.
The coldness cracked slightly.
Just slightly.
“She was the only person who ever treated me like a person,” he said quietly.
The words hit harder than expected.
Because they sounded honest.
Painfully honest.
Ophelia didn’t know what to say after that.
So instead she asked softly:
“What happened to her?”
Silence.
Alekxander looked away first.
“She died because she trusted the wrong people.”
Something about that answer made Ophelia’s stomach twist.
Because it didn’t sound like he was only talking about his mother anymore.
The room stayed quiet after that.
Not awkward quiet.
Just heavy.
Then suddenly.
“You should stop touching random things,” Alekxander said.
Ophelia stared at him.
“You literally keep secrets like your life depends on it and somehow I’m the problem?”
“Yes.”
She laughed in disbelief.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
Why did he keep saying things like that?
Ophelia looked away quickly before her brain started overthinking nonsense.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
She walked toward the window instead.
Outside, the sky had already darkened slightly.
Rain clouds again.
Great.
Very dramatic.
“The men from earlier…” she said quietly.
“Who were they?”
Alekxander didn’t answer immediately.
Then finally;
“People who should not know you survived.”
Her chest tightened slightly.
“So someone really tried to kill me.”
“Yes.”
Still direct.
Still calm.
Like discussing the weather.
Ophelia turned around slowly.
“And you still won’t tell me why?”
His gaze stayed on her.
Long.
Steady.
Then quietly.
“Because the less you know right now, the safer you are.”
Ophelia almost laughed.
Almost.
Because honestly?
Nothing about her current situation felt safe anymore.
Not the Ashbournes.
Not the visions.
Not the attacks.
Not even him.
And yet.
Standing here now, looking at Alekxander in the fading evening light…
Ophelia realized something dangerous.
He was the only person she trusted even a little.
Which was honestly a terrible decision.
Because every instinct she had screamed the same thing:
People like Alekxander Vale always came with a price.