Chapter 3

"I feel literally naked," Chloe muttered, frantically tugging at the plunging neckline of the sheer lace dress. "Are you absolutely sure he likes this kind of thing? I look like a cheap escort."

"Stop fussing," I said, catching her hands. "He’s a mature man, Chloe. He doesn't want a little girl in a sweater. He wants someone who appreciates how stable and protective he is. "

Before she could answer, the bell above the café door jingled.

Silas Thorne swaggered in. He was worse in person. His receding hairline was slicked back with cheap grease, and his belly strained against the buttons of a faded flannel shirt.

His eyes scanned the room, instantly locking onto Chloe’s plunging neckline. The predatory gleam in his eyes was unmistakable.

"I'm going to the restroom," I whispered, slipping out of the booth and ducking behind a decorative wooden screen just as he approached.

"Well, well, well," Silas purred, sliding into the seat opposite Chloe. He leaned heavily on the table, invading her space immediately. "Aunt Agatha didn't tell me you were such a little firecracker. I'm Silas."

"I... I'm Chloe," she stammered. The pink magic of the dress pulsed, making her lean slightly toward him.

"Chloe. Pretty name for a pretty girl." He flashed a yellowing smile. "You know, I used to hunt rogue trolls up in the Highlands. Dangerous work. A man sees a lot of ugly out there in the world. Makes him really appreciate coming home to a sweet, soft thing like you."

"You hunted trolls?" she gasped, her eyes going wide. "That sounds so brave."

"Someone's gotta keep the streets safe, sweetheart." He reached across the table, his thick fingers wrapping around her wrist.

I stayed hidden behind the wooden screen, nursing an espresso as the minutes ticked by. Silas spun wild, exaggerated tales of his glory days, painting himself as a rugged, misunderstood hero who just needed the right woman to heal his scars.

Chloe ate up every single word. Within twenty minutes, her initial nervousness had completely evaporated. She was giggling at jokes that weren't funny, leaning across the table so far her chest practically spilled out of the lace, and lightly stroking his arm.

About half an hour into the date, Silas leaned in close, dropping his voice to a greasy purr. "It’s too loud in here, sweetheart. Tell you what. Let's get out of here. I know a quiet spot where we can really get to know each other."

Chloe didn't even hesitate. She giggled, her cheeks flushed. "Okay."

Silas threw an arm around her waist, his hand resting far too low, and led her out the door. They looked exactly like a couple deeply in love.

The only person buzzing my Rune-slate was Chloe. The updates poured in like clockwork.

'He is so protective! We're officially dating!'

That text came the next day. A week later, my scroll lit up during my morning commute. 'Mom thinks I'm staying at a friend's dorm, but I moved into Silas's place!'

Then came the dangerous one. I was reviewing a massive Vault contract when the alert popped up. 'We signed a minor soul-bind today! I feel a little tired all the time, but Silas makes me soup. He says my energy is just adjusting to his.'

Silas was draining her spiritual veins dry, using her pure luck to patch his own cursed life. And Chloe, wrapped in the illusion of a sweet romance, was letting him do it.

Meanwhile, Aunt Agatha stopped her daily harassment, purely content in the belief that she had successfully sold me off to a degenerate. She got her commission, Silas got his luck-battery, and Chloe got her “truelove”. Everyone was happy.

Until my Rune-slate on the table began to violently rattle.

I was in the middle of presenting a high-level risk assessment to the bank directors. The aggressive buzzing cut through my speech. I glanced down.

[Blackwood Family Chat: 47 New Messages]

The number ticked up to 55 in the span of three seconds. My father’s contact name began flashing on the screen. Incoming call. I declined it. He called again. Again. Again. One hundred and twenty missed calls registered in less than a minute.

"Excuse me," I told the directors. "A minor family emergency. Give me two minutes."

I stepped out into the marble hallway and opened the group chat.

Aunt Agatha had started the fire. She’d uploaded a screenshot from the Mystic Enquirer, a trashy local tabloid. It was a photo of Silas Thorne, looking smug, holding up a glowing blue Pregnancy Rune.

The caption read: Ex-Hunter Silas Thorne ready to settle down! Little hunter on the way!

Agatha’s message beneath it was dripping with venom.

Agatha: @Seraphina Blackwood! Unmarried and pregnant by a jobless degenerate?! Before a formal contract is even signed? You are dragging our family’s magic down the gutter!

The rest of the family smelled blood and swarmed.

Aunt Harriet: Disgusting. A spirit-girl who doesn't respect herself ruins the luck of the whole bloodline. We are going to be a laughingstock.

Uncle Robert: There goes her fancy bank job. No financial institution is going to keep an actuary tied to a troll-hunter's debts.

Dad: SERAPHINA. ANSWER THE PHONE. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

My phone vibrated in my hand again. It was a direct call from Aunt Agatha. I leaned against the cold marble wall and accepted it.

"Seraphina, darling," Agatha’s voice oozed through the speaker, a sickening mix of fake sympathy and absolute triumph. "I am just in tears over here. I told you, sweetie. I told you girls need to be careful! But now that the damage is done, you have to fix this."

"Fix it?" I asked.

"You need to sign the formal marriage contract with Silas today," she demanded, dropping the sweet act. "Before the baby shows. I have the paperwork ready. It’s the only way to save your reputation."

"Aunt Agatha," I said softly. "Did you actually look closely at the picture you posted?"

"What are you talking about? Stop deflecting, Seraphina—"

Opening the chat, I tapped on the screenshot of the tabloid. I zoomed in tightly on the glowing blue Pregnancy Rune in Silas's hand. Every magical rune carries the spiritual signature of the mother. 

I used my stylus to draw a bright red circle around the name printed in stark, undeniable black letters right in the center of the rune. 

Mother: Chloe Fairchild.

I hit reply to Aunt Agatha’s original message. 

Seraphina: @Agatha Fairchild I think you tagged the wrong person, Auntie. Congratulations on becoming a grandmother.