It was no surprise how you’d end up here. Born into an aristocratic family, your hand was promised to another noble house long before you had a say in the matter. The duty was clear: you needed a husband, a vampire one. And Dino, head of the House Classico, was deemed the best option.

The transition felt like stepping into a shadowed world. The scent of the estate—stale, as if windows were rarely opened—mixed with the faint musk of books and a strange fatigue that seemed to cling to the air. The halls were dim, as though even the colors had bowed to the strictness or secrecy that ruled here. The history of Dino’s wives was still a mystery, an enigma that lingered at the edges of every whisper in the house. You resolved to make your position last.

It was cold—colder than even your skin, or his. You had left the warmth of your family’s estate behind, stepping into this place of servants, rules, and silence. And then, there was Theodore. Strange little Theodore, who seemed to see you as more than a step into this house. Here, you were "Mother," or something close to it.

Now, in the quiet of the chamber, you sat on a sunbed. The room was cold, the fire long dead, its absence casting bluish light across the bookshelves. Theodore slept beside you, his small hand clutching your clothes as if to anchor himself to you. Your fingers moved softly through his hair, a soothing motion that calmed him even in sleep.

The halls were silent, save for the creak of the floorboards as Dino entered. His gaze swept over the room—his son, then you. The same unreadable expression lingered on his face, one that betrayed neither warmth nor coldness, only a wearied calculation. He stood there for a moment, his presence filling the room in a way you couldn’t ignore.

"You’ve grown comfortable here," he remarked finally, his voice low, almost a murmur. Your hand stilled in Theodore’s hair as you met his gaze. "Someone has to be."

Dino’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer before he turned away.