~Reign Estate ~
~ Evening, Family Sitting Room*
The grand room was cloaked in shadows as the last rays of the sun slipped behind heavy drapes, casting a muted golden hue across the polished mahogany furniture. The air was thick with a mixture of old money and unspoken tension.
Lucian's grandparents sat side by side on an antique velvet loveseat, their faces lined with years of wisdom but soft with hope. Grandma Reign, her voice gentle yet filled with warmth, broke the silence.
"After all these years, I never imagined Lucian would finally open his heart," she whispered, squeezing Grandpa Reign's hand. "Ivy seems to have brought something new to his life… a light we never thought we'd see."
Grandpa Reign smiled, eyes twinkling beneath bushy brows. "He's always been a fortress—cold, precise. But now, when he looks at her, it's different. There's a softness, a vulnerability I haven't seen before. Maybe love can soften even the hardest of men."
The two exchanged a hopeful glance, as if imagining a future where Lucian's icy demeanor might thaw.
At the far end of the room, Lucian's mother, Victoria Reign, sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, her expression unreadable. Her perfectly coiffed hair and impeccable posture betrayed a lifetime of discipline and control. Her voice was quiet but sharp, slicing through the hopeful mood.
"Love is a luxury we cannot afford," she said, eyes fixed on a distant point. "Our world demands strength, not sentimentality. Lucian's focus must remain unshaken. Anything else is a dangerous distraction."
Her words hung heavy in the room. Lucian's father, Damian Reign, who had been standing near the fireplace, turned sharply towards her, his face taut with anger barely contained.
"A distraction?" he growled. "Victoria, you don't understand. Emotions make men weak. If Lucian allows himself to be consumed by feelings for Ivy, he'll lose the edge that keeps our empire intact."
He began pacing, voice rising with each step. "We're not some ordinary family, and this isn't some ordinary love story. This is the Mafia—the stakes are life and death. A single misstep fueled by passion could destroy everything we've built."
Grandpa Reign frowned deeply, breaking his silence for the first time in the tense exchange. "Damian, you forget that we are not just an empire of power. We are human. Even kings need love. It is what grounds us, keeps us whole. Lucian needs more than strategy—he needs a heart."
Victoria shook her head sharply. "Heart is a vulnerability, mother. One that our enemies will exploit without mercy."
Damian's pace slowed as he stared into the flickering flames. "If Ivy distracts Lucian, even for a moment, we are finished."
Grandma Reign reached out and placed a trembling hand on Damian's arm. "You must trust your son. He is stronger than you think. And maybe, just maybe, this love will make him unstoppable."
Silence fell again, heavier now with the weight of unspoken fears and hopes clashing within the Reign family's legacy.
Victoria's voice dropped to a whisper, cold and final. "Love has no place here. Not in this house. Not in this life."
The grandparents exchanged one last, sorrowful glance before the room was swallowed by the encroaching night — the old guard clinging to tradition while the future whispered a different path
~ Lucian's Study — Midnight Calm*
The clock on the far wall ticked softly as the night deepened around Lucian Reign. His private study was bathed in muted golden light from a singular antique lamp, casting long shadows across the sleek, dark furniture. Papers were neatly arranged before him, but his sharp eyes weren't on the files. Instead, they lingered on a name typed in bold across one of the sheets: *Ivy Blackwood.*
His personal phone buzzed—only a few had access to that number. The name on the screen read: *Mother.*
Lucian answered with a calm, clipped, "Yes?"
His mother's refined voice came through, poised but layered with curiosity. "You've been quiet. I thought you should know what was discussed after dinner. Your grandparents were practically dancing, Lucian. They think she's the one."
Lucian leaned back slightly in his leather chair, one hand resting against his jaw. "I expected them to react that way."
"And your father," she added, her voice now cooler, "He is furious. Said you're playing with fire. That love… emotion… is a weakness in the Mafia world."
Lucian's eyes narrowed, but his tone remained controlled. "He's not wrong about emotions clouding judgment."
A beat passed before she asked the question she'd really called for. "So. Is there anything to worry about? Are you—getting attached?"
Lucian's jaw clenched for a brief second. His eyes flicked back to Ivy's name again, then to the sleek monitor where security footage from earlier that day was paused—her silhouette captured mid-turn, a faint, rare smile on her lips as she trained with Adrian.
"No," he said finally, each word clipped. "This is business. She's useful. That's all."
A soft exhale came from his mother's end, half relief, half pride. "Good. Keep it that way. You're a Reign. We don't break for sentiment."
He ended the call without another word, tossing the phone onto the desk with precision.
But he didn't return to his work immediately.
He remained still for a moment, his hand slowly closing over the document bearing Ivy's name.
Then, just as quickly, his walls sealed shut again. He flipped to the next file and began reading, ignoring the twist of something unfamiliar in his chest. Something far too close to emotion.
Ivy's Bedroom — Quiet Shadows & Flickering Thoughts (Ivy's POV)*
The moonlight slipped between the drawn curtains, casting soft slivers across the dark wooden floor of Ivy's room. The villa was silent, save for the hum of crickets outside and the occasional creak of old wood settling. Ivy sat curled up on the window bench, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped loosely around them. A cup of now-cold tea rested beside her—forgotten.
Her mind spun.
Lucian.
That name had begun to echo more than she was comfortable with.
She thought back to dinner. To Adrian's endless teasing. To the way Lucian hadn't even flinched. The way his gaze remained unreadable—but focused. Always aware.
And then the memory that made her pulse tighten—the training session. His hand on her waist, steadying her aim. His breath calm while hers betrayed her.
She scoffed quietly, resting her forehead on her knees. "Get a grip, Ivy."
But no matter how she scolded herself, his presence still lingered. Not just the way he moved or commanded a room—but the way he didn't push her. The way he observed her. Trusted her skills, but gave her space.
Her thoughts shifted—unwillingly—to her father. To Izrael. To Ravik.
Her chest tightened.
Her brother.
Her promise.
She was not here to get attached. She was here for a purpose. She had sacrificed too much to start falling now.
Her fingers gripped the fabric of her sleeves tightly as she stared out at the night. "No distractions," she whispered.
But Lucian's voice from earlier that day—low, calm, unexpectedly gentle—drifted through her again.
*"Keep your elbow steady. Let the recoil work with you, not against you."*
Her heart clenched.
She hated this. Feeling. Questioning herself. Questioning her focus.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, a truth she didn't want to face stirred: Lucian Reign was no longer just her strategic ally. He was slowly—dangerously—becoming her anchor in a world where trust was a dying language.
She stood suddenly, moving to shut the curtains.
The stars disappeared behind the fabric. And with them, the vulnerability in her gaze.
She turned toward the bed but paused.
Tomorrow, she would seal off whatever this was. Return to the plan. Stick to the goal.
Love had no place in war.
Especially not when the heart was a weapon waiting to be turned against you.
😓😓