Luna Wrens POV

The dress was perfect. Too perfect. It clung to my body in all the right places, a stunning shade of red that seemed to demand attention. My mother's choice, of course—there was no mistaking her taste for anything less than impeccable. As I stood in front of the mirror, twisting slightly to see every angle, I couldn't help but wonder if this was less about me looking good and more about making her look good.

The soft silk of the fabric felt cool against my skin as I adjusted the neckline one last time. My hair was styled in loose waves that tumbled over my shoulders, and I'd taken extra care with my makeup—a subtle smokey eye and red lipstick that matched the dress perfectly. I stared at my reflection, searching for the confidence the look was supposed to inspire.

It wasn't there.

Sighing, I grabbed my heels from the edge of the bed and slid them on, wincing slightly at how tight they felt. No amount of glamour could disguise the fact that I'd rather be anywhere but here, getting ready for a night filled with strained smiles and shallow conversations.

When I finally opened my bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway, the sound of my heels against the hardwood echoed faintly in the quiet house. The scent of fresh lilies lingered in the air—my mother's favorite—and it followed me as I descended the grand staircase.

She was the first to notice me.

Standing near the piano, a glass of wine in her hand, she turned to face me as I entered the room. Her eyes swept over me, taking in every detail of my appearance. For a brief moment, I thought I saw approval flash in her expression, but it disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

"Well," she said, her voice smooth and cutting, "I suppose you can clean up nicely when you actually try."

Her words hit like a slap, though I kept my face neutral. Compliments wrapped in barbed wire—those were her specialty. I'd learned long ago that reacting only gave her satisfaction.

"Thank you," I said quietly, refusing to meet her gaze for too long.

My father looked up from his spot on the couch, where he was adjusting his cufflinks. He gave me a small nod, his expression unreadable but at least not critical.

"Let's not keep the Wellington's waiting," he said, standing and motioning toward the door. "They're expecting us."

My mother set her glass down, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she walked past me. I followed silently, the weight of her words still pressing on me as I stepped out into the elevator.

The car waited in the garage, gleaming under the soft glow of the fluorescent lights. As we climbed in, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. The red dress looked bold and striking, but the girl wearing it looked small, lost in a world she didn't quite belong to.

The ride to the Wellingtons' estate was silent, aside from the low classical music playing softly through the speakers. My parents sat in the front, my father focused on the road while my mother stared out the window, her fingers tapping against her phone.

The tension in the car felt suffocating, and I leaned my head against the glass, watching as the city lights blurred into the darkness of the countryside. The Wellingtons' mansion came into view, a sprawling estate that looked more like a palace than a home.

The party hadn't even started, and I already felt out of place.

The estate was nothing short of breathtaking. Massive gates opened to reveal a long, winding driveway lined with perfectly manicured hedges and glowing lanterns. The mansion itself was a masterpiece of architecture, all gleaming marble and towering columns, illuminated by a cascade of lights that made it shine like a beacon in the darkness.

The car came to a smooth stop in front of the grand entrance, where valet attendants stood waiting to whisk away arriving vehicles. My father handed over the keys with his usual polished efficiency, while my mother adjusted her fur stole and gave me one last appraising look.

"Remember to smile," she murmured, her tone sweet but sharp enough to cut glass. "We don't need people thinking you're ungrateful for this life."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from replying and stepped out of the car, the chill of the winter air biting at my bare shoulders. My mother had insisted I forgo a coat, claiming it would ruin the look of the dress. The sacrifice seemed trivial now as I took in the grandeur of the scene before me.

The front doors were open, spilling warm light and soft music onto the stone steps. A butler greeted us with a polite bow, ushering us into the mansion's opulent foyer. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting rainbows across the marble floor. Everywhere I looked, there were reminders of wealth—gold accents, priceless paintings, and a staircase that could rival those in fairy tales.

The guests were just as polished as the décor. Women in glittering gowns and men in tailored suits mingled in groups, their laughter and chatter blending with the soft strains of a live string quartet. My parents moved seamlessly into the crowd, their presence drawing immediate attention.

I followed closely behind, unsure where to go or who to talk to. Parties like this always felt like a performance, and I was never quite sure of my role.

"Luna!"

The voice startled me, and I turned to see a middle-aged woman approaching, her diamond necklace catching the light as she smiled brightly. She was one of my father's business partners—or maybe a client; it was hard to keep track.

"It's been ages since I've seen you! Look at you, all grown up," she said, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. Her smile faltered for a moment, as if she was calculating how much I'd changed, but it returned quickly. "Absolutely stunning, darling."

"Thank you," I said, forcing a polite smile.

The conversation quickly shifted to my parents, and I took the opportunity to step away. It was a delicate balance—staying visible enough to appear engaged but not so much that I became the center of attention. I moved through the room like a ghost, nodding and smiling when necessary but avoiding anything deeper than surface-level pleasantries.

"Your parents must be so proud of you," one man said, his eyes lingering on me a little too long.

I nodded again, murmuring a vague response. The truth was, I wasn't sure what my parents felt anymore—pride, disappointment, indifference. The lines blurred so much it was hard to tell.

The pressure of the room started to weigh on me, the air growing thicker with every passing minute. The laughter and chatter became a dull roar in my ears, and the heat from the crowd was stifling. My fingers brushed against the cool stem of my champagne glass as I scanned the room for an escape.

And then I saw it—the balcony.

It was tucked away at the far end of the ballroom, its glass doors slightly ajar. The promise of fresh air and solitude was too tempting to resist. With one last glance at the crowd, I slipped away, weaving through the guests until I reached the doors.

The night air hit me like a wave, cold and crisp against my skin. I stepped out onto the balcony, the noise of the party fading into a distant hum. The view was breathtaking—rolling hills stretched out under a blanket of stars, the lights of the city twinkling in the distance.

For the first time that evening, I felt like I could breathe.

I closed my eyes and let the cold air calm my nerves. The distant hum of the city and the faint rustling of the trees were a welcome contrast to the chaos inside. I leaned on the stone railing, my fingers brushing against the smooth, icy surface.

"You always did prefer the quiet."

The voice made me jump. I turned sharply to find Julian standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the doorframe. He was dressed impeccably, as always, in a black suit that fit him like it was made for him—which, knowing the Wellingtons, it probably was.

I swallowed, trying to steady my nerves. "Julian, I didn't hear you."

He smiled, that same disarming grin that had always made my heart skip a beat. "Didn't mean to scare you. I just needed a break from the circus there."

I nodded, trying to act nonchalant, though his presence was anything but calming. Julian had always had this magnetic energy about him, a way of drawing people in without even trying. And now, standing here under the stars, it felt amplified.

"Yeah, it's... overwhelming," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

He stepped closer, his shoes clicking softly against the stone floor. "You've never been one for these parties, have you? Too much noise, too many people."

I shrugged, feeling a little exposed under his gaze. "I guess I just don't fit in the way everyone else does."

His eyes softened, and he moved to stand beside me at the railing. "You fit in more than you think, Luna. You're just... different. In a good way."

I blinked, unsure how to respond. His words felt sincere, but there was always a part of me that doubted. After all, people like Julian lived in a world I could only navigate through my parents' expectations.

"You're not like them either," I said finally, glancing at him.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Maybe. But I've learned how to play the game."

The way he said it made something in my chest tighten. There was a sadness in his tone, a weariness that mirrored my own.

We stood there in silence for a moment, the cool wind brushing past us. The city lights in the distance felt like a reminder of another world, one far away from the expectations and façades we were trapped in.

"Luna," Julian said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

I turned to look at him, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned in. His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first, then more certain when I didn't pull away.

My heart raced as the kiss deepened, warmth spreading through me despite the chilly air. For a moment, everything else faded—the party, my parents, the pressure. It was just Julian and me, suspended in a bubble of stolen time.

When he pulled away, his eyes searched mine, as if trying to gauge my reaction. I felt a smile tug at my lips, my cheeks burning despite the cold.

"I—" I started to say something, but he stepped back, the spell broken.

"I should get back inside," he said quickly, his tone suddenly distant.

"Wait—"

But he was already walking away, disappearing into the house before I could stop him.

I stood there, stunned, my fingers brushing my lips as I tried to make sense of what just happened. A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could latch onto one, my phone buzzed in my clutch.

I frowned, pulling it out. It was a text from an unknown number.

"Not everything is as it seems, Luna."

My breath caught. My eyes darted around the balcony, searching for... I didn't know what. Or who.

The message didn't mention the kiss, but it didn't have to. It felt too coincidental, too perfectly timed. My hands trembled as I clutched my phone, my mind spinning.

"Julian?" I called out, my voice shaky.

Silence.

I took a step toward the door, ready to go find him, when I felt a presence behind me. Before I could turn, a hand clamped over my mouth, and a strong arm wrapped around my waist.

My entire body froze. Panic surged through me as I struggled, but the grip was firm.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

"It's okay, love. I'm not going to hurt you," the voice said, calm but with an edge that made my skin prickle.

I tried to place it, but my mind was too clouded with fear.

"Didn't I tell you not everyone has good intentions?"

The familiarity of the voice sent a jolt through me, but I still couldn't place it. I wanted to scream, to fight, but my body felt paralyzed.

Footsteps echoed from inside, growing louder.

The grip on me loosened suddenly, and I stumbled forward. When I turned around, there was no one there.

I looked around wildly, my chest heaving, but the balcony was empty. The only sound was my own ragged breathing and the distant murmur of the party inside.

People passed by the doorway, their laughter and conversation oblivious to what had just happened.

I gripped the railing for support, leaning over as I tried to catch my breath. My hands were trembling, my mind racing with questions I didn't have answers to.

Who was that? How did they know about me? About Julian?

I straightened up slowly, forcing myself to appear calm as I made my way back into the house. I needed to find my parents. I needed to leave.

As I stepped back into the party, my heart still racing from the encounter on the balcony, I forced myself to breathe deeply. The ornate chandeliers cast golden light over the crowd, and the hum of conversation filled the air. The laughter and clinking glasses seemed distant, muffled by the storm of thoughts in my head. I found my parents near the grand staircase, chatting with a group of sharply dressed socialites. My mother's laugh rang out, bright and practiced, as if nothing could ever crack her polished exterior.

"Mom," I said, stepping up beside her and forcing my voice to stay steady. "I don't feel well. I think I need to go home."

Her smile faltered just slightly, but she quickly recovered, turning to me with a look that could cut glass. "Nonsense, Luna," she said, her voice low but firm. "You're perfectly fine. These people don't need to see you running off like a child."

"But—"

Her hand on my arm silenced me. "You're staying," she hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes flashing a warning. Then, as if flipping a switch, she smiled brightly at the couple she had been speaking to. "Teenagers, always so dramatic, aren't they?"

The man chuckled, and I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation. "She's certainly grown into a stunning young lady," he said, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

"Thank you," my mother said, ignoring the way my shoulders tensed. She squeezed my arm lightly, her nails biting into my skin as a silent reminder to behave.

"Luna," she said, releasing me and gesturing toward another group of guests. "Why don't you go say hello to the Robinsons? They've been asking about you all night."

I nodded stiffly, my throat tight with suppressed frustration. I made my way across the room, my steps heavy, my stomach twisting. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of small talk, forced smiles, and compliments that felt like weapons. My face ached from pretending, and my mind was miles away, replaying the events of the balcony and the chilling text message.

When the clock finally struck an hour late enough to leave, I couldn't hide my relief. My parents said their goodbyes with the same grace and charm they wore like armor, and I followed them silently to the car. The crisp night air hit me as we stepped outside, and I shivered slightly, my red dress doing little to keep the cold at bay.

The ride back to the city was as silent as the drive to the party had been, except for the occasional comment from my mother about how well the evening had gone. My father grunted his agreement, his eyes fixed on the road, while I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and white.

When we pulled into the underground garage of our house, I was the first to step out of the car. The sharp echo of my heels against the concrete was the only sound as I walked toward the elevator, my parents following behind. The familiar ding of the elevator arriving felt like a small mercy, and I stepped inside, leaning against the cool metal wall as the doors slid shut.

The ride up was silent, save for the soft hum of the elevator. My mother adjusted her earrings in the reflection of the mirrored wall, and my father checked his phone, his brow furrowed. I stared at the floor, my mind too cluttered to focus on anything but the events of the night.

When the elevator doors opened, the familiar scent of fresh flowers greeted me. The house was just as pristine as we'd left it, every surface gleaming under the soft lighting. My parents walked ahead, their voices low as they discussed something about the party. I lingered for a moment, my feet rooted to the floor as exhaustion washed over me.

"Luna," my mother called from the living room, her tone sharp. "Don't just stand there. Make yourself useful and grab the mail."

I ignored her, heading straight for my room and closing the door behind me. My fingers trembled as I locked it, needing the barrier between myself and the rest of the world. The sound of the lock clicking into place brought a sliver of relief, but it wasn't enough to erase the knot in my chest.

I leaned against the door, closing my eyes as I took a deep breath. The night had been a nightmare, and I didn't have the energy to face my parents—or anyone else—for a second longer.

The first thing I did after locking myself in my room was head straight for the balcony door. The curtains hung slightly open, the city lights spilling into my room and casting long shadows on the floor. My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the glass, my mind replaying the moment from earlier—the voice, the hand over my mouth, the words whispered so close to my ear. I forced myself to step forward, my fingers trembling as I locked the door. The click of the lock felt too quiet, too insignificant against the roar of my thoughts.

I tugged the curtains shut, yanking them harder than necessary until the room was plunged into darkness. Only then did I take a step back, staring at the heavy fabric as if it were the only thing standing between me and the outside world. A shiver ran down my spine, and I rubbed my arms, trying to shake off the feeling of unease.

The hot water of the shower couldn't come fast enough. I let it cascade over me, my forehead resting against the cool tile as I tried to process everything. The events of the night—the kiss, the text, the stranger on the balcony—swirled in my mind like a storm I couldn't control. My skin still prickled with the memory of his voice, low and teasing, yet strangely familiar.

"Didn't I tell you not everyone has good intentions?"

The words echoed in my head, making my chest tighten. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on the present. The heat of the water soothed my tense muscles, but it couldn't reach the knot of anxiety lodged deep inside me.

After drying off, I wrapped myself in my robe and walked to my closet. The faint glow of my desk lamp illuminated my room, casting warm light on the familiar space. As I pulled out a pair of soft pajamas, my eyes caught on something out of place: a folded pile of clothes sitting on the chair by my desk.

Kai's clothes.

I froze, staring at the neatly folded shirt and pants as if they might move on their own. I hadn't even noticed them before. They looked so casual and harmless, yet something about seeing them here—in my space—made my stomach twist. A faint unease crept over me, and I couldn't pinpoint why. They were just clothes, after all. But they were his.

I quickly turned away, slipping into my pajamas and shoving the thought to the back of my mind. The robe joined the pile of discarded laundry, and I moved to my bed, hoping that the comfort of my blankets would finally quiet the chaos in my head.

I turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, but sleep didn't come easily. I tossed and turned, my mind refusing to settle. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the balcony again—felt the hand on my mouth, heard his voice in my ear. My fingers clenched around the blanket as I stared up at the ceiling, the faint city lights bleeding through the edges of the curtains.

Who was he? What did he want?

And why, no matter how hard I tried, couldn't I shake the feeling that I'd heard that voice before?

The night stretched on, heavy and suffocating. My thoughts spun in endless circles, chasing answers I couldn't find.

And somewhere out there in the city, I knew someone was watching.

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Hiii! So sorry for this very late update!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!!!!

Who do you think the person on the balcony was? Haha! I'm sure you already know!!

Thank you for reading my lovelies!!!😘- Willow