Chapter seven

(Aurora's POV)

The car slowed as it turned through the open iron gates, which stood tall and gleaming under the late afternoon sun. Each metal bar caught the golden light, reflecting it like delicate threads of silver.

My gaze swept across the vast estate—stone interlocks winding through endless gardens, each curve and contour a testament to carefully curated beauty. Towering oaks cast long, protective shadows against the mansion’s grand facade, their branches stretching out like ancient guardians.

In other words, it was truly breathtaking.

The mansion itself stood proud—not just a structure, but a living chronicle. Aged gray stone bore the weight of history, while classic windows framed memories of a past I wasn’t yet privy to. The roof was made of some material I couldn’t quite name, but it added to the timeless charm of the place. This was a house where power, wealth, and unspoken secrets had been woven into its very foundation.

Enzo must have spent a fortune acquiring this mansion. It wasn’t an inheritance—he, like me, had started from nothing.

From the driver’s seat, Enzo cast a quick glance at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips—a smile that carried more understanding than words ever could.

“Home sweet home,” he said lightly. But beneath his casual tone, I heard the layers—relief, anticipation, and something deeper, something unspoken.

From the backseat, Zeo squealed in delight, her small hands pressed against the glass.

“Mommy! Look at the castle!” she gasped, her breath forming misty clouds against the window. Wonder sparkled in her bright eyes, pure and unfiltered.

I chuckled, my heart softening at her enthusiasm. “It’s not a castle, sweetheart.” Though, looking at it, I couldn’t blame her for the comparison. “But it’s close.”

Enzo caught my eye in the rearview mirror and grinned. “Castle works too,” he teased, his tone playful—deliberately lightening the mood.

The car rolled to a stop before the mansion’s grand entryway, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires breaking the evening’s silence. A line of uniformed staff stood waiting—a perfectly choreographed welcome, their posture speaking of both discipline and deep-rooted loyalty.

The maids wore crisp, pressed dresses, their appearances pristine. The butlers, clad in tailored suits, exuded quiet authority.

This was money.

A distinguished older woman with salt-and-pepper hair stepped forward. Though her stance reflected years of service, her eyes told a different story—warm, knowing.

“Mr. Klaus, Miss Hayes,” she greeted, her voice a perfect blend of professional courtesy and genuine warmth. She must be the head of the household staff.

“Welcome back.” Her gaze softened as she turned to Zeo, something maternal flickering in her expression. “And this must be the young lady we’ve heard so much about.”

“I’m Zeo!” my daughter announced proudly, hopping onto the gravel with an endearing attempt at grown-up dignity. “Do you live here too?”

The woman—Paulina, I remembered—chuckled, a rich, genuine sound. “I do, dear. My name is Paulina.” She glanced at me, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. “Your rooms are ready. I made sure everything is perfect.”

“Thank you, Paulina,” Enzo said sincerely. “It’s good to be back.”

As we stepped inside, the tension of the past few days began to lift—like fog slowly dissipating. I had thought about my return, had prepared myself, but now that I was here, reality felt different.

The cool air carried the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers—a delicate balance of luxury and comfort. Chandeliers cast golden light across marble floors, their reflections whispering stories of wealth and legacy.

Every inch of the house screamed opulence. But beneath it, there was warmth—a sense of belonging rather than intimidation.

Livia tugged at my hand, her voice a whisper. “This is our house now, right?”

I knelt beside her, smoothing back a stray curl. “We’re staying here for now, but it’s not exactly ours.” The words felt true… yet somehow incomplete.

“But it feels like it,” she murmured, already enamored with the place—her intuition sharper than she could possibly understand.

Paulina led us to our rooms, where everything had been prepared with meticulous care. Vases brimmed with pristine white lilies, their fragrance filling the air. The bedding looked like a cloud of pure comfort, deliberately chosen for rest and peace. A small basket of essentials for Livia sat neatly on a side table—an intimate, thoughtful touch.

Enzo caught my eye and winked. A silent message.

You and Zeo deserve the best.

Dinner was served in the grand dining hall, a space that could easily seat twenty but now felt intimate, almost cocoon-like, with just the three of us. The massive mahogany table, which had likely hosted countless powerful conversations over the years, now bore witness to something far more precious.

Zeo giggled as Enzo made exaggerated faces over his soup, each spoonful becoming a dramatic act.

It was adorable, watching him distract her from her tendency to drop bread into her glass. But it was more than that. He was creating a moment—a bubble of pure, uncomplicated joy. Pushing back against the shadows that had followed us.

For those brief moments, the weight of our past melted away, replaced by warmth, laughter, and the quiet safety of a makeshift family.

Later that night, after tucking Livia into bed, I joined Enzo in the lounge. He poured two glasses of wine, the crystal catching the firelight, turning the liquid into molten amber.

We settled onto the couch, the soft leather molding to our bodies. The fireplace crackled, its rhythm almost conversational.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Enzo observed. His tone was casual, but his gaze was sharp—reading me like an open book.

I swirled the wine in my glass, watching the deep red shimmer. “Just thinking about today.”

He tilted his head, inviting me to continue.

“The airport?”

I nodded, my mind replaying the moment I had seen Killian. “Seeing him again… it threw me off more than I expected.”

Enzo leaned back, his jaw tightening. “He looked like he saw a ghost,” he muttered. Then, after a pause, “And that little scene in front of Zeo? That wasn’t two people with a clean slate.”

I exhaled slowly. “He’s bitter. He thinks I ruined him.”

Enzo's gaze darkened. “You didn’t. He did that all by himself.”

I met his eyes, the weight of old wounds and newfound strength pressing between us. “But it doesn’t matter what’s true, does it? Perception is everything. And Killian Blackwood has already decided I’m the villain in his story.”

Enzo's fingers drummed against his glass. “If he figures out Livia is his—”

“He won’t.” My voice was steel. “He lost that right the day he turned his back on me. Even if he crosses my path again, he won’t intimidate me.”

A slow, cold smile tugged at my lips. “His assistant reached out today. Blackwood organisation wants a meeting with Darlington.”

Enzo's brows lifted. “You’re seriously considering it?”

My smile sharpened. “Killian doesn’t know who runs Darlington. When he finds out… it’ll be too late.”

Before he could respond, Paulina appeared at the doorway, her usual composure slightly fractured.

“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Hayes.” Her voice carried an uncharacteristic uncertainty. “But there’s… a situation.”

I straightened, instantly alert. “What is it?”

“There’s a car parked outside the gate,” she said. “It’s been there for almost an hour. The driver hasn’t moved. Just… watching.”

Enzo and I exchanged a glance—wordless understanding passing between us.

“Should I notify security?” Paulina asked.

“Yes,” Enzo said firmly. “And have them run the plates.”

As she hurried off, tension coiled inside me.

Looks like we have an audience.

Leo’s jaw clenched. “I’ll handle it.”

But I shook my head, a slow smile playing on my lips. Equal parts warning and challenge.

“No.” My voice was steady. “If someone’s watching, they need to know one thing—I’m not afraid to face them.”