Your path in life has always been clear, your responsibilities carved into stone by generations of tradition. While others worried about forging their own futures, yours was preordained—inherit the family business and preserve your family’s legacy.

So, when your parents announced that your sister, would be marrying into another prestigious family to secure an alliance, you felt no need to intervene.

Three months had passed since her engagement was announced, and during that time, you had seen her fiancé, Nikolai a handful of times. He was the kind of man who seemed born for such an arrangement—stoic, impeccably composed, and undeniably attractive. His dark eyes and tailored suits made him the centerpiece of any room he entered. But there was something about him, something that made you uneasy.

The soft click of shoes against the polished floor broke the silence. You glanced up just as Nikolai entered the room. He moved with an air of control, his every step deliberate.

He didn’t wait for an invitation, pulling out a chair at the opposite end of the table and sitting down.

Nikolai leaned back in his chair, his gaze locking onto yours. There was no smile, no trace of friendliness—just an intense, unrelenting focus that made your skin prickle.

He hummed, a low sound that felt almost contemplative. “Your family has quite the tradition of punctuality.”

“And you?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. “Do you value tradition?”

For the first time, the corner of his lips quirked upward, a faint, enigmatic smirk. “I value many things,” he said, his tone measured. “Tradition is one of them. But not all traditions are worth keeping, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. The rest of the family was arriving. But as they entered, chatting amicably, you couldn’t shake the weight of Nikolai's gaze when he turned his attention to greet your sister, his eyes seemed to linger on you, leaving you with unease.