Crown of the Empire

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The war with the mirror had ended in a humiliating defeat. Powder had failed me. Concealer had betrayed me. The scarf was my last line of defense, but the thing kept sliding down my neck like it was auditioning for a role in a soap opera about star-crossed lovers.

By the time I walked into the dining hall, I was already plotting my scarf's murder.

And of course, the scene waiting for me wasn't just breakfast. Oh no. It was Versailles disguised as continental breakfast. Chandeliers. Silverware lined like soldiers. Platters of smoked salmon so perfect I wondered if they had tiny beauty pageants backstage before being served. And croissants—fresh, golden, flaky croissants—that smelled so good they made me question my loyalty to rice.

At the far end of the table sat Estrella and Hiroshi. The Filipino grandmother with her pearls and warmth, and the Japanese grandfather with his tea and permanent aura of "I know your secrets." And to their right, Nikolai, calm as a glacier, buttering his croissant like he hadn't just vandalized my body with hickeys twelve hours ago.

And there it was. The one thing I dreaded. The hickey on his neck. Proud. Bold. Glorious. Mocking me.

I almost tripped into a plate of brie.

"Mariya," Estrella said warmly, voice as smooth as melted butter. "Come, sit."

I sat. Because what else does one do when a woman with pearls commands you?

Her eyes scanned me once. Just once. It was surgical. I knew in that instant she saw it—the scarf, the careful powder, the guilty tilt of my chin. She smiled, but it wasn't the sweet old-lady smile. It was the I-raised-sons-and-now-I-see-you smile. The smile of a woman who'd survived and thrived through decades of catching lies at the dinner table.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked casually.

"Yes," I lied, stabbing fruit like it owed me money. "Like a baby."

Nikolai didn't look up from his croissant. Of course he didn't. He was probably waiting to see me sweat like this was foreplay.

"Good," Estrella said, reaching for her tea. "Though sometimes, a restless night can also mean... a very productive night."

I inhaled a piece of melon. Wrong pipe. Coughed like a dying engine.

"Careful, Mariya," Hiroshi said without even blinking. His tone was calm, but his eyes slid very deliberately from my scarf to Nikolai's neck. Then back to his tea, as though he'd just diagnosed a patient.

I wanted to evaporate. Just dissolve into thin air and float out the window with the smell of butter and shame.

"Yes, careful," I croaked, gulping water. "Melons are dangerous. Very... slippery."

Estrella's lips twitched. Hiroshi sipped his tea like this was perfectly normal breakfast conversation. And Nikolai? The bastard finally allowed himself a microscopic smirk.

I glared at him. He looked smug. Infuriatingly smug. If I could tattoo a second dragon glowing in moonlight on his forehead just to embarrass him, I would.

"So, Mariya," Estrella said brightly, "you are from the Vergara Banking family. Surrounded by numbers all your life, hmm?"

"Yes," I said, straightening. If they wanted my weapon, I'd give it to them. "Numbers and I are very close. We argue sometimes, but we always reconcile by the end of the fiscal year."

Estrella laughed lightly, delighted. Hiroshi's mouth moved in what might have been the tiniest almost-smile.

"Good," he said. "Discipline. Precision. Balance." He set his cup down, eyes narrowing slightly. "But too much order, without passion, leads to decay. Too much passion without order leads to collapse. Balance is everything."