Dawn seeped through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels of Star Villa, its pale light softened by the gray veil of clouds hanging over Ravensmead. The rain had relented in the early hours, leaving the cul-de-sac's pavements glistening and the air heavy with the scent of wet stone and earth.
Inside, the villa was a cocoon of quiet, broken only by the faint hum of its climate system and the occasional drip from the eaves outside.
At precisely 07:00, a soft chime rang from the smart bed's headboard, a melody as delicate as wind chimes but insistent enough to pierce the haze of sleep.
Maddox stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as his body protested the awkward angle he'd twisted into during the night. His back ached, a dull throb that matched the fog clouding his mind.
A bead of sweat trailed down his temple, and he blinked, disoriented. The last thing he remembered was collapsing on the living room sofa, too drained from the diner's emotional minefield and the press room's venom to climb the glass staircase.
So why was he here?
In the master bedroom, sprawled across a bed that smelled faintly of lavender, and tangled in silk sheets? The air held a trace of scented humidity, as if the villa's systems had been tuned to mimic a spring morning.
Maddox's pulse quickened, not from fear but from the surreal weight of the moment. He turned his head slowly, half-expecting to find himself alone—and froze.
His breath caught, snagged on a sight that felt like a dream.
Alina lay beside him, half-curled under a cream blanket, her deep-red hair spilling across the pillow like a river of molten silk. Her face, softened by sleep, was a study in contrasts—a sharp jawline inherited from her English noble lineage, tempered by the delicate curve of her East-Asian heritage.
Her lashes, long and dark, fluttered faintly over closed eyes. Even in repose, her beauty was unfair, a quiet radiance that made the room feel smaller, as if it couldn't contain her presence.
Maddox's heart thudded, too fast, too loud. Not from desire, though denying her allure was like denying gravity, but from the realization that the Eric he was impersonating had married this woman.
Loved her. Quarreled with her. Built a life with her, one Maddox could only glimpse through fractured memories.
She was inches away, a goddess lost in slumber, unaware that the man beside her was a stranger wearing her husband's skin.
'You were a lucky bastard, Eric,' he thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips. 'And maybe a fool for letting this slip.'
Suddenly her eyes stirred—a flutter, then open fully, clear and piercing despite the morning's haze. Sea-glass met storm-cloud, and time seemed to pause, the air between them charged with unspoken questions.
Alina blinked.
Maddox blinked back.
She stared, surprise flickering across her face for a heartbeat, her gaze locking onto his as he lost himself in her eyes, adrift in their depths.
A sudden warmth bloomed in her chest, a sweetness she hadn't felt in months, but it overwhelmed her. "W-what are you staring at?" she stammered, her voice a mix of confusion and—could it be?—nervousness.
Maddox hesitated, his mind racing through a thousand responses. He could deflect, crack a joke, or dodge the moment entirely. But something in her eyes, vulnerable and unguarded, called for truth.
A soft smile curved his lips, and he murmured, "Of course, I'm looking at my beautiful wife. You're looking very gorgeous today."
Alina froze, her breath hitching. The words, simple yet intimate, struck like a spark against dry tinder. Her face flushed a deep crimson, the color spreading down her neck and disappearing beneath her silk nightgown.
Maddox could've sworn he saw steam rising from her cheeks, her reaction so vivid it transformed her into something almost impossibly endearing, like a juicy apple just within reach.
Emboldened, he decided to press his luck. He leaned closer, his hand reaching to cup her delicate face, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. He tilted toward her, aiming for a kiss, a gesture to reclaim the connection the old Eric might have taken for granted.
But Alina's eyes widened, her lips twitching as she turned her face into the pillow for a split second, dodging the advance. Then, with a burst of energy, she bolted upright, the blanket falling away as she scrambled for her silk robe.
"Y-You're such a flirt!" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of indignation and embarrassment, though the faintest smile betrayed her.
Maddox chuckled, leaning back on his elbows, one eyebrow raised. "Flirting with my own wife. Is that illegal now in Terra Regalia?"
Alina shot him a glare, half-hiding her face as she tied the robe with quick, practiced movements. "You're going to be late for work, so get up!" she called over her shoulder, practically scampering to the bathroom.
The door closed with a soft click, but not before Maddox caught the curve of her smile, a flicker of warmth that lingered in the air like perfume.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair, the ache from yesterday's battles fading in the wake of this unexpected moment.
For the first time since waking in this world, he glimpsed the spark that had drawn Eric to Alina, the fire beneath her noble poise. And maybe, just maybe, a reason to fight for a marriage teetering on the edge.
The bedroom's smart sensors adjusted the lighting, casting a soft glow over the space. Maddox swung his legs over the bed, his bare feet meeting the cool marble floor.
The system flickered to life in the corner of his vision, its holographic interface materializing with a faint chime.
---
[System Notice]
[New Alert: Training Ground Tension Reported.
Assistant Coach Nigel Crowther has publicly questioned your tactics with regards to Silvergate Youth Sailors position in the bottom of the E Youth League Table, with three important games left to play. Staff and players morale at 32%. Action recommended].
---
Maddox groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Great. Just what I need—mutiny before breakfast."
The media storm was worsening, and now his own staff was turning. Crowther had never fully bought into Maddox's attacking tactics. The poll numbers stung, but the 12% who supported him—likely a few players he'd pushed to fight back against Crestford Colts, gave him a sliver of hope.
He stood, stretching his arms, the ache in his back a reminder of the sofa he'd started the night on. How he'd ended up in bed with Alina was a mystery, but he suspected Aunty May's quiet efficiency or Alina's own decision to drag him upstairs.
The thought of her choosing to bring him here, even in his exhausted state, stirred something in his chest, a mix of gratitude and determination.
Downstairs, the scent of fresh coffee and warm bread wafted from the kitchen, where Aunty May was already at work. Maddox dressed quickly, pulling on a tracksuit and trainers, his mind shifting to the day ahead.
But first, he needed to see Alina again, to hold onto that fleeting smile before the world's pressures crushed it.
He descended the glass staircase, each step echoing faintly in the villa's pristine silence. In the kitchen, Alina stood by the counter, her robe swapped for a tailored blazer and skirt, her hair swept into an elegant updo.
She was sipping coffee, her posture regal, but her eyes flicked to him as he entered, a trace of the early morning's flush lingering.
"Morning again," Maddox said, leaning against the doorway, a half-smile playing on his lips. "You recover from my criminal flirting yet?"
Alina rolled her eyes, setting her cup down with a clink. "Don't push your luck, Eric. You've got enough trouble at the training ground without starting a war here." Her tone was sharp, but there was a teasing edge to it, a crack in her noble armor.
Maddox grabbed a piece of toast from the counter, taking a bite. "Trouble's my middle name, didn't you know? Besides, I'd rather fight with you than half the vultures out there."
Her lips twitched, but she turned away, busying herself with her tablet, its screen glowing with news feeds. "You should read these before you go. The media's tearing you apart, and Father's already sent me three messages about 'reputational damage.'" Her voice tightened on the last words, and Maddox's stomach sank.
Lord Marrowgate. The shadow that loomed over their marriage, scheming to pry Alina away. Maddox stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Alina, about your father—"
"Not now," she cut him off, her eyes fixed on the tablet. "You've got a team to manage, and I've got a board meeting at Stormgate United. We'll talk later."
The dismissal stung, but Maddox saw the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the tablet. She was caught in the same web he was—noble expectations, family pressure, a world that demanded perfection. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her close like he'd tried upstairs, but the moment had passed.
"Alright," he said softly. "Later, then." He grabbed his coat. As he stepped outside, the cool air hit him, carrying the promise of a grueling day.
The training ground was a 15-minute Sky Rail ride away, but Maddox opted to walk, needing the time to clear his head.
There were different varieties of cars in the garage but Eric never attempted driving one because of pride and potential scrutiny from the media about him spending his wife's money.
Maddox scoffed at that. He didn't care what others thought or said about him, as long as it wasn't someone close to him.
Ravensmead's streets were waking up, nobles' cars gliding past, their engines humming with quiet wealth.
The city's football obsession was everywhere—holographic billboards flashing Youth League highlights, and newsstands blaring headlines about the latest hot-topics.
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