Bound by Honor *2ND DRAFT*

II

January 28

Estella POV

The air in our dining room felt heavier than usual, like someone had cranked up the gravity just for me. Polished wood gleamed as if it were judging me, silverware sparkling like tiny sentinels whispering.

Ever since last night, I couldn't stop thinking about him—Malakai. He has that "bad people" vibe, the kind that makes your stomach do a nervous salsa, but if he were truly dangerous, my dad wouldn't have ever, in a million years, put me in this mess with him. That's why I adore my father. He's sharp as a blade in business but soft where it matters. He would never let anyone hurt us. Not even someone as charmingly lethal as Malakai.

I had on a black dress that flowed all the way to my ankles, the kind that looks like it could kill you with elegance. Halter neckline, soft fabric that caught the light just right, and my gold stack of bracelets—some of them my mother's, relics she never wears. I like to think of them as tiny anchors, keeping me from drifting entirely into chaos.

"Good morning, Ms. Estella." Chef's voice broke through my morning fog. Polite, reliable, and utterly unbothered by my existence.

"Morning," I said, offering a smile. Routine had become my sanctuary. Ever since Dad said I'd start taking over parts of the business, I'd been slowly carving out control—little by little. Though let's be real, I wouldn't get far without my brother. Speaking of, where is Ston?

Chef set my breakfast down. I nodded in thanks, diving into eggs with the kind of efficiency usually reserved for heists or heartbreaks. Between bites, I checked my phone—emails from last night, replies to send, fires to put out before lunch. Dad said Malakai and I were meeting for lunch. I had to conquer my empire of inbox chaos before I stepped into the lion's den.

As soon as I finished, Easton strolled in, still in pajamas, looking like a disgruntled cat forced to wake up.

"Good morning, Ston," I said, trying not to laugh at his grumpy growl of a reply. He grabbed his plate, devouring breakfast like the world owed him calories.

Once I stood, he claimed my seat. "I'm going to the office. I have some work to do. I'll send you the documents," I said. Some people chew like they're auditioning for a role in a horror movie.

I slid out of the dining room and into the garage. My new Porsche 911 waited like a crimson promise, sleek curves gleaming. My favorite color, my favorite toy, my favorite little rebellion against the chaos of adulting. Bag in the passenger seat, engine on, and I was off, letting the car hum the kind of soundtrack only speed and freedom can provide.

The valet at the office took my keys with a grin. Sweet, reliable, and professional—a unicorn in a world of chaos. Tip in hand, I strutted toward my office, ready to conquer the mountain of work waiting for me.

A few minutes later, Easton appeared, now dressed in the blue suit I brought him. "I finished some of the papers and gave them to your assistant," he said.

"Thank you," I replied, brisk and polite.

"I'm almost done with all the work for this morning. It was... much," I admitted. He nodded, perfectly unreadable.

"Well, I'm going to help the finance team with some things."

"Okay, I'll be down in a bit," I said. He gave me a nod like a general passing off command before walking out, leaving me to wonder if he knew exactly how much I thrived on watching him try to be responsible.

I'm still buried in papers when there's a polite tap on my office door. "Come in," I call, not looking up.

The footsteps draw closer, precise, confident. "Well, good morning. Are you ready?"