Martha watched her son's back, her eyes heavy with sorrow. Slowly, she walked toward Jaiden, who stood alone with his back to the noise of the party.
"Jaiden," she said, resting a gentle hand on his broad shoulder.
He turned his head—just his head, not his whole body—his eyes falling first to the hand that had landed on him. He knew it was his mother. But right now, he didn't have the courage to let her see his face.
Martha stepped up beside him. "Sweetheart, I know your heart is broken." She paused, choosing her words carefully, as if the wrong ones might cut deeper. "It's never easy, letting go of someone you love to someone else."
Jaiden gave a bitter smile. "It's the hardest thing I've done since I left without an explanation," he said quietly. "But... Elara deserves to be happy, Mom. At least she's with Raimond. My best friend." He let out a heavy breath, like he was swallowing something stuck in his throat. "...She'll be happier with him than with a dying man like me." The smile returned—not a happy one, but one that carried an old wound.
Martha saw it. Clearly. She pulled her son into her arms, hoping the embrace could offer some comfort to his fragile, shaken heart.
Neither of them noticed Elara standing behind the wall down the hallway near the garden, listening to every word.
The silence of the night carried their voices straight to her—she'd only meant to grab something from her car before the familiar sound of their voices stopped her in her tracks.
Martha pulled back from the hug, worry etched across her face. "I can see the way Elara looks at you—like she hates you. Wouldn't it be better if you just told her the truth? Why you really left?"
Jaiden's smile thinned. "And what would I get out of that? I don't want to ruin Elara's happiness. I already hurt her enough by leaving without a word. I won't give her a fresh wound with an explanation that should've stayed buried."
Behind the wall, Elara's brow furrowed. What are they hiding from me? And why did Jaiden just call himself a dying man?
"Elara."
Raimond's voice made her jump. She turned quickly, trying to smooth over the storm his words had just stirred inside her.
"What are you doing out here? The guests are looking for you," he said, walking toward her.
She forced a small laugh, trying to steady herself. "Don't hide behind the guests, Raimond. Too proud to just say you were the one looking for me?" she teased.
Raimond sighed, then smiled, defeated. "Alright, I guess I'm not very good at lying to you." He held out his hand. "Come on. Let's go back." He took her hand and held it tightly, as though afraid she'd slip away.
She returned to the wedding with him. It was an arranged marriage, but from the outside, they looked happy—content, even, in front of everyone.
Back in the garden, mother and son were still lost in their own thoughts.
"Jaiden, you look pale," Martha said, cupping his face in both hands, studying him closely, worry now filling every inch of her expression.
Jaiden smiled and covered her hand with his own. "I'm fine, Mom," he said, as much to convince himself as her.
She shook her head. "No, you're not fine. We're going home now. I don't want anything to happen to you," she said, her voice starting to tremble with a fear she could no longer hide.
"Mom, I'm okay. Don't leave the party. What will Aunt Winie say if we go home before everyone else?" he tried to persuade her, though even his own voice sounded weak.
"No. Your health matters more than what anyone else thinks. We're leaving," Martha said firmly, pulling him by the hand, refusing to hear another word about it.
Jaiden exhaled slowly. He knew there was no arguing with her this time.
"I'll drive. You sit in the back."
"Fine," he said, resigned.
Before starting the car, Martha called her husband, who was still at the party.
"Jaiden and I are heading home early. Something's wrong with him," she said, unable to hide the worry in her voice.
"I'll come home too, then," Gio replied, tension creeping into his tone.
"No need. Stay at the party—I'll take care of Jaiden," she said.
"Alright. Drive safe."
Jaiden said nothing, just listened in silence.
The call ended. Martha started the engine and pulled the car out of the venue.
In the back seat, blood suddenly began to drip from Jaiden's nose. He quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped it away before his mother could notice. He knew all too well how panicked she'd get if she saw him bleeding again.
His head felt heavy, his breathing shallow. Still, he forced himself to stay composed, carrying it all alone, the way he always did.
Martha kept glancing at him through the rearview mirror. From the outside, he looked calm. But as a mother, seeing her son's face so pale kept a quiet worry gnawing at her the entire drive.
The moment they got home, Martha rushed him straight to his room. "I'm calling Dr. Chloe," she said, pulling out her phone, her hand shaking slightly.
"You don't have to, Mom. Don't bother her. I'm fine." Jaiden tried again, hoping to ease her worry.
But this time, Martha ignored him completely. She called Chloe anyway.
"Chloe, something's wrong with Jaiden. Can you come over now?"
"Of course. I'll be right there," Chloe answered without hesitation.
"Thank you."
The call ended.
"Get some rest while you wait for Chloe. I'll be downstairs," Martha said, kissing his forehead before stepping out of the room, leaving him alone with his still-ragged breathing.
Time passed, and the wedding celebration finally came to an end.
That night, Raimond brought Elara home to his grand estate—as the new Mrs. Blackwood.
Dozens of staff and guards lined up to greet her with deep respect, as if welcoming royalty.
They stood in neat rows, bowing in unison. "Welcome, Mrs. Blackwood. We're at your service."
Elara smiled at Raimond, who returned it just as gently. They walked together past the rows of staff and guards.
Raimond led her straight to the master bedroom on the second floor.
The room radiated a masculine kind of luxury—black and gold, elegant and commanding all at once. Dark walls met wood-paneled trim, accented with thin gold lines that never crossed into excess. In the center stood a massive bed with a tall black leather headboard, dark sheets pulled taut and neat, giving the space a cold, exclusive feel. Gold-framed wall sconces cast a warm glow, the light catching on the black marble floor and reflecting back in soft flecks of gold.
In one corner, a black wood desk with gold metal fittings sat beside a glass cabinet, also gold-framed, displaying a neatly arranged collection of watches and men's accessories. There wasn't much else in the room—every piece looked carefully chosen, as if its owner had no patience for anything unnecessary. Luxurious. Expensive. But cold—much like the man who lived in it.
Elara's eyes slowly traced every corner of the room. As a woman who wasn't particularly fond of overly feminine spaces, she found herself drawn to it.
"Get some rest. I'm going to shower," Raimond said, disappearing into the bathroom.
Elara wandered the room, browsing his watch collection, flipping through a book of quotes left on the desk—until her hands stilled, her mind pulled back to the conversation between Jaiden and his mother in the garden.
The question echoed in her head again, this time carrying new weight. Raimond was Jaiden's best friend. If something was being hidden, chances were, he knew it too.
She looked toward the bathroom door, her jaw tightening with a resolve that had just taken root.
Whatever they were hiding, she was going to find out—even if it meant digging it out of the man who was now her husband.
