DAGON MANSION

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A VISIT TO BRADY MANSION

Two weeks had passed before Ryan and Theolinda saw each other again.

When their lips met, it was not just a kiss but the recognition of two souls who had crossed too many shadows together.

After a long silence, Ryan murmured:

"Theo, I have a question for you."

"Ask me," she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

Ryan inhaled, his chest rising like a tide about to break.

"Will you marry me?"

Theolinda lifted her head abruptly.

"Marry you? Ryan, are you out of your mind?"

He smiled — that disarming smile that made resistance feel useless.

"I had imagined something different," he said. "A proper dinner in some dimly lit restaurant, a bouquet of red roses, a violin playing in the background. But this is what I can offer — a proposal behind prison walls."

His melancholy eyes silenced her more effectively than words. Theolinda knew that sadness wasn't manipulation; it was truth. Every day she spent with him, she saw another layer of the wounded boy beneath the myth of the monster.

"That's not what I need," she said softly. "Why marriage? Are we not enough as we are?"

Ryan looked at her, his tone low but certain.

"Mia will begin visiting again. Things could become... complicated. If she thinks I'm married, she'll see me only as Scarlett's father. I want to protect her — from me."

Theolinda bit her lip, uncertain whether to laugh or cry.

"I understand."

He touched her chin gently.

"It's selfish, I know. But you understood what you were walking into from the start. And marrying you isn't a sacrifice, Theo. You are... everything."

She stayed silent, caught between tenderness and unease.

"Besides," he continued, "it would help you as well. Your mother wants you married, wants an heir. This could satisfy everyone."

Theolinda stared at him, half-amused, half-stunned.

"You are extraordinary, Ryan Dagon. You manipulate the world with words."

"So," he murmured, "is that a yes?"

After a long pause, she sighed.

"Yes. But I'll have to tell my mother. And she... she will not approve easily."

"Then we'll convince her," Ryan said, almost teasingly.

"You don't know Ethel Brady," she warned.

Brady Mansion stood on the outskirts of Glouminster, beside a turquoise lake that mirrored the sky like glass. Its walls of pale stone rose from the ground like a fortress carved from winter itself.

As Theolinda crossed its threshold, a strange peace washed over her — the kind that only old houses can give, blending comfort and oppression into the same breath. Though she had left years ago against her mother's will, the air still carried her childhood scent of lilies and parchment.

Her mother, Ethel Brady, was the type of woman whose will could bend iron. Since Theolinda's father had died when she was ten, Ethel had devoted herself to shaping her daughter into a "lady of good name." She had succeeded — partially. For all her refinement, Theolinda's spirit had never learned to bow.