Chapter 5

Morning light poured softly into the penthouse, painting the glass walls with streaks of gold. For the first time since she had moved in, Sereia woke up. The sheets were cool on his side of the bed, faintly scented of his cologne, and she sat up slowly, brushing her hair back with trembling fingers.

The silence was different without him. Lighter, yes… but also unfamiliar, like standing in a room that still belonged to someone else. She pulled on a pale robe and padded barefoot into the living room, finding a small note left on the table in Andrei’s sharp, neat handwriting: Meeting. Don’t run. — A.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Typical of him — no affection, only command. Yet something in her chest tightened at the reminder that even when absent, he never really left her.

The shrill ring of the penthouse phone startled her. She hesitated before answering, her voice soft. “Hello?”

“Ah, my dear,” came the gentle warmth of a woman’s tone. It was Andrei’s mother. “I hope I didn’t wake you. How are you and Andrei doing?”

Sereia blinked, surprised by the kindness in her words. “N-no of course!, We’re… managing,” she replied quietly, unsure what else to say.

The older woman chuckled knowingly. “That son of mine isn’t the easiest man to live with. But give him time. He only knows one way to love — fiercely.”

Sereia swallowed hard at the word love, unsure if Andrei had ever said it aloud, even to his family.

“Anyway,” her mother-in-law continued, “little Aleksei has been begging all morning. He insists on visiting his brother, and he wants to meet you properly. I hope you don’t mind, dear?”

A warmth spread in Sereia’s chest despite her nerves. “Of course I don’t mind. I’d… like to have company while Andrei’s away.”

An hour later, the elevator chimed and out bounced a boy no older than five, with dark hair falling into his mischievous eyes and a grin that seemed too big for his face. “Sister Sereia!” he chirped the moment he spotted her.

She blinked, startled. “Y-you know my name?"

“Of course!” Aleksei laughed, dashing across the room with the boundless energy of youth. “Mama said you’re going to marry my brother. That means you’re going to be my sister too!”

Her heart softened instantly. He was like a smaller, brighter echo of Andrei — the same sharp features in miniature, the same commanding presence, but softened by youth and innocence. Where Andrei’s gaze trapped her, Aleksei’s only made her chuckle.

“You’re… very cheerful,” she teased, crouching to his height.

“I’m like Andrei!” he announced proudly, puffing his little chest out. “But nicer .”

The words slipped from him without malice, and Sereia couldn’t help it — a laugh burst from her lips, light and unguarded. It startled her, how easily the boy disarmed her walls.

He tugged her hand insistently. “Show me the house! Is this where you sleep? Is it scary at night? Does Andrei get mad if you eat all the cookies?”

Sereia chuckled again, guiding him toward the kitchen. “I think you might know your brother better than I do.”

The boy’s endless chatter filled the morning like sunshine, sweeping away the cold echo of Andrei’s absence. Yet, beneath the sweetness, Sereia couldn’t ignore the shadow of his brother — how even a child version reminded her of the man waiting for her return at night.

Still, when Aleksei hugged her waist and declared, “I like you, Sereia. Don’t be scared. Andrei will take care of you,” her throat tightened.

Because the innocence of the child didn’t know that being “taken care of” by Andrei Solkov meant being owned.

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