Chapter 11

       1st Mission : Out Loud

       “It starts today,” Lorcan muttered under his breath.

       Morning light filtered into his room as he sat at the edge of his bed, his head bowed, one hand raking through his hair. He exhaled slowly, glancing at the clock ticking mercilessly on the wall. His thoughts drifted immediately to Seranna.

       Today was the day.

       Today they would make their relationship public—or at least, the version of it they had agreed upon. Today the act would begin. Pretending. Smiling. Convincing.

       And it would start with their families.

       That was the plan: fake dating in front of the people who knew them best. If they could fool them, the rest would be easy.

***

       Lorcan descended the stairs, his midnight-blue tuxedo immaculate. He fastened the last button as he moved, smoothing the jacket with a practiced hand. His fingers brushed briefly over the face of his arloji, adjusting it with habitual precision. Calm and composed, he crossed the dining room, pulled out a chair, and seated himself without a word.

       He picked up his utensils and began eating, each movement slow, deliberate, detached.

       Jason, noticing, frowned, “Aren’t you off today?” he asked, a thread of suspicion sharpening his tone.

       The question sliced through the quiet hum of breakfast.

       Harold and Johanna stilled, exchanging quick glances. Jason was right—Lorcan had no reason to dress like that on a Sunday. But Lorcan didn’t waver. He continued cutting into his breakfast as if the question hadn’t touched him, before responding with a calm, almost indifferent voice,

       “Where are the bunnies?”

       “Celyst’s probably in the shower,” Johanna answered carefully, reading the tension in the air. “Celyth’s still asleep. It’s Sunday, after all,”

       Harold leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at his son. There was a tightness around Lorcan’s mouth, a stiffness in his posture that betrayed him. Something was brewing.

       After a brief pause, Harold asked, voice low and deliberate,

       “Where exactly are you going, Lorcan?”

       Lorcan set his fork down with precision, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, and replied,

       “An appointment, Father,”

       A heartbeat of silence. Then, with perfect control, he added, “With Seranna,”

       Jason sputtered, nearly choking on his food. He grabbed his water, coughing loudly as he tried to recover.

       Harold and Johanna, meanwhile, exchanged another loaded glance—this one full of shock, confusion, and the unspoken realization that something far bigger than a sunday appointment was unfolding.

       Jason slammed his water glass down harder than necessary, the sound cracking sharply through the room. Lorcan didn’t so much as blink.

       “With Seranna,” Harold repeated slowly, as if testing the words on his tongue. His eyes, so often stern with expectation, softened just a fraction. He shared a quick, almost imperceptible glance with Johanna — a flicker of quiet, unmistakable relief passing between them. Finally, they thought. Lorcan was seeing someone. And not just anyone — Seranna. Strong, poised Seranna, whom they had known since she was young. A woman who wouldn’t be intimidated by Lorcan’s unshakable composure. A woman who could meet him step for step.

       Lorcan, typically impervious to emotional discussions, caught the shift instantly but said nothing. Better to let them believe what they wanted.

       “Well,” Johanna said at last, smoothing her napkin over her lap, “that’s... good news. I’m glad to see you making time for something other than business, darling,”

       Jason forced out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. Great news,”

       No one seemed to hear the bitterness buried under his words. Or maybe they chose not to.

       Harold, visibly easing, reached for his coffee. “It’s about time,” he said approvingly. “You’re not getting any younger, son. And Seranna’s a fine woman,”

       Lorcan merely nodded, accepting their reactions with a politeness that didn’t quite reach his guarded eyes. He didn’t need them to know the truth. That this was a lie. A carefully crafted illusion, necessary to serve a purpose — for him, for Seranna. Nothing more.

       Jason sat back heavily in his chair, trying to mask the roiling jealousy storming inside him.

       Fourteen years.

       Fourteen years of swallowing down the way his chest tightened whenever Seranna smiled at him. Fourteen years of standing aside, never daring to hope for more than stolen moments and casual friendship, because he had always known he wasn’t enough.

       And now Lorcan—perfect, untouchable Lorcan—was stepping into the one place Jason had never had the courage to go.

       Jason tightened his jaw, picking at the edge of his plate with his fork, “Since when?” he asked, voice clipped.

       Lorcan glanced at him, measuring. “Recently,”

       “That’s fast,” Jason said coolly, forcing a smirk. “You don’t usually rush into things,”

       Lorcan arched a brow slightly. “Sometimes change is necessary,”

       Johanna, sensing the rising tension, hurried to cut in, her voice light and a little too bright. “Well, I think it’s wonderful. We always thought you two would make a good match,”

       Jason nearly laughed aloud at that — a jagged, bitter laugh. If only they knew how wrong they were. There was no match. No romance. Only a well-dressed lie unfolding before their eyes.

       “Well, if you’re meeting her today, give her our regards,” Harold said, settling back with a satisfied sigh, clearly feeling a long-standing worry lift from his shoulders.

       Lorcan rose from his chair with fluid grace, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced ease.

       “I will,”

       He turned, offering a final glance over his shoulder before leaving.

       Jason watched him go, the weight of a thousand unsaid things pressing down on his chest until it was almost hard to breathe.

       As soon as Lorcan’s footsteps disappeared up the front hall, Jason pushed back his chair abruptly.

       “Excuse me,” he muttered, not waiting for permission as he stalked toward the back garden door, needing air, needing space.

       Outside, the crisp morning bit into his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat boiling beneath it. He stood there, hands clenched into fists, staring out over the manicured lawn without seeing any of it.

       Seranna.

       Lorcan.

       It was unbearable.

       Jason closed his eyes, the memory of Seranna’s laughter floating back to him — from long ago summers, when they had been younger, when everything had seemed possible. He had been fifteen when he first noticed how her smile could knock the air right out of his lungs. Seventeen when he realized that no other girl would ever really compare. Twenty when he had thought — maybe, just maybe — if he waited, there might be a chance.

       But he had waited too long.

       And now, Lorcan — strong, perfect Lorcan — had simply walked into the space Jason had protected all these years, like it was nothing.

       Like she was nothing.

       Jason pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, willing the ache to go away. But it stayed. It would always stay.

       He wasn’t stupid. He knew he couldn’t blame Seranna. She didn’t know. She would never know. Jason had made sure of it.

       But Lorcan—

       He wasn’t sure he could forgive this, even if Lorcan didn’t realize what he was taking. Jason drew a slow breath, straightening.

       Fine.

       Let Lorcan play his little game.

       Jason would be watching. And if there was even a crack—Even a moment of hesitation in the flawless act Lorcan was so good at—Jason would be there.

       Because some wars weren’t fought with swords or fists.

       Some wars were fought in silence, behind careful smiles, in rooms full of people who saw nothing and understood even less.

       And Jason had been preparing for this war for fourteen years.

***

       Seranna was already dressed. The navy gown clung to her silhouette with effortless grace, each curve accentuated with intention. She didn’t speak. Only the sharp clicks of her heels echoed against the marble floor as she strode through the hallway. The maids bowed as she passed, their eyes briefly lifting—but she didn’t return a single glance. Her silence held power.

       The first stop of the day was clear: her parents’ house.

       A calculated move. An unspoken declaration. She was going on a date—with Lorcan Millesernan.

       “My parents’ house,” she said, her voice clipped.

       The chauffeur gave a respectful nod. “Yes, Madame.”

       He opened the door smoothly, waited until she was seated with comfort, then started the engine.

       Her phone buzzed. Seranna. I’ll pick you up.

       She frowned at the message, her fingers moving almost instantly across the screen. Don’t bother

       The reply came almost too fast.

       She ignored it. Turned her face toward the window instead, letting the morning sun warm her skin. The road unfurled ahead like a silk ribbon. On the right, the lake shimmered beneath the sunlight, the water catching glints of gold. Birds wheeled in the sky. The world, for a moment, looked almost poetic. Almost enough to soothe her.

Buzz.

       Peace shattered. I won’t let my girlfriend ride alone. Not on our first date, Seranna.

       Her lips parted in disbelief. Girlfriend?  We haven’t even started. And I’m not driving. My chauffeur is. What is wrong with this man?

       This wasn’t the Lorcan she knew.

       The ever-composed, cold, emotionally constipated Lorcan. The man probably thought “romantic gesture” meant pulling out a chair without tripping over it. Maybe he didn’t even know how to kiss a woman properly.

       Another buzz.

       We have, Seranna. Since the moment you were officially divorced. And your chauffeur can take the day off.

       She blinked. Did he just declare their fake relationship official via text? And yet… part of her smiled. He was playing the role well. Maybe even too well. She typed back, her fingers steady:

       Fine. Pick me up at my parents’ house.

       She locked her phone, tucked it into her purse, and leaned back into her seat.

       This was it.

       The curtain was rising.

       And their performance had officially begun.