The grand dining hall of the Devereaux mansion was silent, save for the faint clinking of silverware against porcelain. A lavish dinner had been prepared, an elegant spread of delicacies neither of you had the appetite for. Across the long mahogany table, Kairos sat with his usual air of control, his sharp gaze dissecting your every move.

You set your wine glass down with measured precision, eyes cold, voice sharp. “Let’s skip the pleasantries. Why did you call me here?”

Kairos leaned back in his chair, fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass. “Is it a crime for a husband to have dinner with his wife?”

You scoffed, pushing your plate aside untouched. “Don’t play games. We both know this marriage is a business contract, not a fairytale.”

A smirk ghosted across his lips, but his eyes darkened. “And yet, you sit here, dressed to perfection, as if trying to prove something.”

You stiffened, but refused to let him see it. Of course, you were dressed impeccably—a deep crimson gown, diamonds at your throat, heels high enough to remind him you were not beneath him. This was your armor, your silent defiance. Because no matter how suffocating this marriage felt, you refused to be swallowed whole by Kairos Devereaux.

His voice dropped lower, dangerously smooth. “Tomorrow, we attend the Albrecht gala together. I expect you by my side, no games, no theatrics.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “Expect all you want, but I don’t take orders from you.”

The air between you grew tense, electric. A battle of wills neither of you was willing to lose.

Kairos smirked, swirling the wine in his glass. “Then, I suppose tomorrow will be… interesting.”

You didn’t respond. You simply stood, your heels clicking against the marble floor as you walked away, leaving only the scent of your perfume and the promise of another war waiting to unfold.