As I aimlessly strolled through the expansive gardens of the Château, a question lingered in my mind since morning: Why didn't the Volkners make this fabulous estate their home?

The place was like something out of a movie—an opulent paradise fit for royalty. With a total of 18 meticulously manicured gardens and pristine artificial ponds adorned with stunning bronze sculptures of mermaids and sirens, this mansion surpassed any dream conjured from movies or books.

As I ventured deeper into the estate, I swung open a pair of ornate gates and stepped onto the gravel path of the rose garden. A rush of joy hit me as I took in the sight: a thousand red roses in full bloom, their vibrant petals a testament to nature's artistic touch. Dedicated gardeners worked tirelessly, their commitment evident in the garden's stunning beauty.

"Madame, fancy trying some rose tea?" A middle-aged French lady with silvery blonde hair called out from behind.

I turned to face her, nodding and offering a warm smile.

"Follow me," she grinned, gesturing towards a nearby structure—a shed that looked more like a brick-built house. If this were in central London, it would easily fetch a price tag of at least 10 million pounds.

Inside, to my surprise, it was the gardeners' quarters. Beyond just storing their tools, it featured a sleek modern kitchen, an airy open-concept living area, and an impressively large television. A few guys were deep into a football match, seemingly unfazed by my sudden appearance.

The lady set the kettle to boil, deftly arranging a handful of dry rosebuds and a couple of saffron sprigs into a delicate glass teacup. With precision, she poured the steaming water over these aromatic elements. The saffron responded by weaving its magic, unfurling a captivating golden swirl within the crystal-clear liquid.

"May I ask where this saffron comes from?" I inquired, the luxurious fragrance and the ember colors from the saffron swirled in the warm water on the cup.

"Well, Madame, this saffron is from our Rya Volkner Madame's garden in Kashmir," she replied.

"Who is Rya Volkner?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. How many Volkners were there in this family?

"Oh, you didn't know?" she asked with a hint of concern in her voice. I shook my head, still perplexed.

"She is the sister of Monsieur Royce. She will be visiting here the day after tomorrow, and all the Volkner family members will gather to celebrate multiple birthdays."

The first sip of the rose tea was quite an unpleasant surprise. I was accustomed to the rich flavors of Bengali chai, and this tea was a far cry from that experience. It was tasteless and devoid of the sweetness I was used to. I could not help but find it atrocious. However, I assumed that perhaps this was considered a delicacy among the wealthy, and my taste buds simply were not attuned to it. Despite my distaste, I managed a polite response.

"How is it?"

"Umm, perfect," I lied, forcing another sip. It tasted like nothing more than boiled, rose-flavored water, but the lady seemed content with my lies.

Our conversation came to an abrupt halt as the rhythmic clopping noises of hooves reached us from the other side of the brick walls.

"What's that?" I asked, curious about the source of the sounds.

The lady grabbed a large bucket and secured it at her waist, grunting as she felt the weight. She walked toward me and inquired, "Would you like to see our owls?"

"Owls?" I echoed in surprise.

"Yes, owls."

"Why do you have owls?" I questioned, following her as she left the shed, and we headed toward an open area where the source of the clopping sounds became clear.

Several beautiful stallions were running freely on a large expanse without riders. One of them, a glossy black, caught my eye with its brilliant coat that resembled silk from a distance.

"What else do you have on this estate?" I asked her as we continued walking toward a distant, spacious green cage. I noticed a nearby greenhouse that was even larger than the shed.

"We have a sizable herd of cows, chickens providing the freshest eggs every day, the stallions you see here, a few lambs... and two alpacas."

"Two—what?" I inquired, taken aback.

"Alpacas. They're a mated couple."

"Why alpacas?" I asked, genuinely curious.

She gave me an odd look as if my lack of knowledge about the reason for having a pair of alpacas was a grave offense.

"Monsieur Rhys loves alpacas!" she explained with evident enthusiasm, prompting me to silently slap my forehead.

Of course, the eccentric Rhys fucking Volkner would have a fascination with alpacas.

"...These owls belong to him too," the lady added as we drew nearer to the cage. A faint but unpleasant stench reached my nose—the unmistakable odor of owl droppings. I couldn't fathom why Rhys was fond of these creatures, given the rather unappealing side effect of their presence.

As I approached the cage, I hesitated. The smell, while not as overpowering as I had initially feared, was undeniably the odor of owl excrement. The constant sounds of owls hooting and chirping enveloped the atmosphere. My curiosity about the rose tea had all but disappeared, and the lady kindly took the cup from my hand, setting it down on a nearby wooden bench before venturing into the cage herself.

"Would you like to see?" she offered.

I was initially hesitant, but then I noticed a few individuals inside the cage diligently cleaning the floor with dust brushes. Straws were scattered all around, presumably to absorb the owl droppings, and they were being replaced with fresh ones.

I made up my mind and entered the cage. Inside, I observed small trees where the owls could perch. A white owl turned its head to gaze at me with big, yellow eyes, tilting its head as if curious about my presence.

Little Kaya's voice within me squealed with delight at the white fluffy owl's cuteness, and I noticed a tag on its hind limb. I had the urge to approach it, but before I could extend my hand, a velvety, low-pitched purr emanated from behind me.

"Floof!"

The owl took flight and soared over my head. I followed its trajectory and saw it alight on the extended arm of a man.

Correction: It was not Sameer's arm. It was RhysFuckingVolkner's arm.

His beaming face, filled with happiness, ignited a seething rage within me. He was dressed in a black shirt and matching black jeans, attempting to exude an air of posh mystery, as though black were the only outfit color on the planet.

Rhys walked over to me and asked, "Would you like to hold it?" He extended his pet toward me, and the white owl appeared to be smiling, eager to befriend me.

I gazed into Rhys's beautiful Prussian blue eyes, which held no trace of guilt, as if he had forgotten what he had said to me just the day before.

But I had not forgotten. No, I would never forgive him. I turned away from him and moved toward another owl.

This one... This particular owl was incredibly small and undeniably cute. It gazed at me as if I were a threat, its large yellow-black eyes appearing even bigger in proportion to its tiny body. Its feathers were a lovely brown with delicate white specks, making it look irresistibly adorable.

"Is it a baby?" I inquired, addressing a nearby worker who was busy cleaning. While all the other owls were gracefully flying overhead, this little one remained perched on a branch right in front of me.

"No, it's an adult. They're little owls," he informed me.

"Little owls!" I exclaimed in fascination. I wished I had known about these creatures when I was a child; I would have dreamt of having one as a pet.

"Is it tame?" I asked the worker, intrigued.

"It's highly trained. It can carry things as heavy as its own weight. Go ahead, give her a good head massage," he suggested, a warm smile on his face as he continued his task of handling the soiled straw bedding.

This made me squeal with joy, a bit. Slowly, I extended my hand, cautiously approaching the little owl. It looked at me with hesitant eyes, but as I stroked its head, it closed its eyes, seeming to relish the gentle touch. An unexpected fondness for this beautiful creature welled up within me. The idea of owls as potential pets had never crossed my mind, yet here I was, forming a newfound bond with one.

Suddenly, Rhys's voice rang out from a distance, screaming,

"Minerva!"

The owl I had been petting took flight and landed on Rhys's outstretched arm. I followed the owl's flight trajectory and witnessed a sight I was not prepared for.

Rhys Volkner stood in the middle of the cage, resembling the homeless pigeon lady from the movie "Home Alone." All the owls swarmed around him, and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to burst into laughter at the comical sight. However, the memory of what he had done and said to me the day before yesterday quickly bred my mood.

"You look exactly like my Minnerva," Rhys addressed me from a distance, as if the events of the previous day had never occurred.

Did he expect me to respond with affection, as if everything was as lovey-dovey as he had anticipated? Or he thought I was suffering from short-term memory loss disease?

But no, he had made this situation even worse for himself. Despite being everything a girl might desire in a man, he had revealed his disgusting toxic traits by attempting to manipulate and control me.

So I stood up and left the cage. I decided to return to Minerva the next day, when Rhys Volkner would not be present. I had genuinely grown fond of the little owl.

But then, God of heaven and earth blessed me with a sight so unexpected that it defied all imagination. Royce Volkner, dressed in an ash-grey business suit, knelt in front of a white alpaca, embracing it with his eyes closed. His pants were becoming increasingly muddy as he continued to hug the alpaca with an expression of sheer bliss. The alpaca was chewing a straw with more bliss.

"What the fuck?" I almost yelled out in disbelief. Royce opened his eyes and gave me a silly grin, his face almost buried in the alpaca's neck.

"Yeah, Volkner men are weird,"

Maria commented from the wooden bench where she sat. The bench had three parts and was designed like a picnic bench for seating and eating. She playfully ran her index finger along the rim of my glass cup that the lady had left on the bench. I walked over to her.

Maria appeared tired, incredibly tired. Dark circles had formed under her eyes within the span of a few hours. It was heartbreaking to see her in such a state. This was Maria Volkner, the woman feared by most on Earth. She should not look so defeated.

"Are you alright?" I inquired, my voice trembling as I fought back tears. I was not prepared to witness my idol, my biggest inspiration on earth, in such a vulnerable condition.

"Yeah. Why?" she replied, offering a lie in her defeated tone while forcing a smile. I wanted nothing more than to embrace her and reassure her that I understood she was not okay.

"Nina told me what happened! I was so worried about you all afternoon. What went wrong?" I asked her, concern filling my voice.

Maria clenched her jaw and shut her eyes tight.

"Kay, I know questions are running through your mind... But we don't discuss our office matters in our home. It's a strict policy we maintain."

A heavy feeling settled in my stomach. I had almost forgotten that I was an outsider.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked about that," I stammered.

"Oh, no! Don't think that you can't. You can ask me anything your heart desires. But remember: no discussions of business in the home, and no discussions of home in business. Always keep that in mind," she reassured me with a weak smile. She looked down at my cup, where rosebuds circled in the saffron water, along with a few saffron strands. She appeared deeply upset and defeated, and I wanted to jump over the bench and give her a tight hug.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked her.

Baba Yaga's blazing eyes turned her gaze toward me. I could see the burning rage, anger, and turmoil lurking behind her beautiful gray eyes. She was doing her best to hold it back.

"What do you want to do for me?" The stone-cold tone of her inquiry sent a chill down my spine.

It was at that moment that I truly realized why everyone feared her. If I had not known her as well as I did, I might have soiled my clothes. Her response made me regret asking if there was anything I could do for her, but there was something in her tone that conveyed her anger was not directed at me. Her question was genuinely curious.

"Anything... anything that will relieve your stress," I emphasized, my sincerity evident in my voice. I meant every word I said. She continued to fix her intense gaze on me.

After what felt like an eternity, a wicked half-grin crept across her face.

"Anything?" she almost whispered, her curiosity piqued.

"Just ask," I commanded, unwavering in my commitment.

Her grin grew more comprehensive, and the anger in her eyes slowly gave way to satisfaction. A thin line of tears welled up in her lower eyelid. She couldn't blink, but she kept staring at me as if she could peer into my soul, dissecting my thoughts and emotions.

"Don't tell me Aunt Rita is coming!"

Rhys suddenly rushed out of the cage, yelling at his father, who was still wrapped in an embrace with an alpaca.

Maria's expression underwent a swift transformation, shifting from a lethal demeanor to a more motherly one in the blink of an eye. She almost rolled her eyes at the mention of Aunt Rita.

".....Be prepared to talk with me tomorrow," Maria commanded as she stood up. I glanced back at the father-son duo, who were on the verge of a heated argument.

"Rita is a lunatic! Why did you invite her?" Rhys lashed out, placing the blame squarely on his father.

"Why the fuck would I invite Rita and Rya to our house?" Royce retorted.

"You know Kay is in the house! She would blast My Kay with her deluded accusations!" Rhys shouted, his concern for me evident in his voice.

"I invited them,"

Maria declared as she rushed over to mediate the brewing confrontation. Another alpaca approached Maria and began rubbing its head against her arm, seeking her attention. I was curious about their conversation, so I moved closer to them.

"Mum, why would you do that? They will make Kaya's life hell!" Rhys implored, seeking an explanation.

"It was a bad idea to invite my sisters. You know they've hated you from the beginning. Now, they'll start hating her, especially when she has zero interest in giving your son another chance in their relationship," Royce explained, his gaze shifting toward me. Maria looked back at me and smiled.

"You'd do anything to relieve my stress, wouldn't you?" she called out to me from a distance. I almost halted in my tracks at her statement.

Royce gave me a quizzical smirk, while Rhys appeared astonished by what he had just heard. I was willing to do anything to help Maria, but dealing with the Volkners and their drama?

NO!

That was a whole different challenge.

Maria turned her attention to Rhys and asked, "Do you really think she can't handle your aunts?"

Maria shook her head at her son's empty response and then walked back to me.

"Rita and Rya think every non-rich girl is a gold digger. When I married Royce, they believed I did it for his money. After 20 years and multiple expansions of our businesses, they still think I'm only after Royce's money. They think the same about Nina, despite Nina dating my own nephew. And they'll think the same about you—that you're after Rhys's money," Maria explained.

Her words nearly made me choke and feel nauseated.

"I fucking hate your son! I've decided to act along in this little game of yours, pretending to date your son because....."

Then it hit me.

As I stood there, unable to finish my sentence, it hit me like a freight train on my fucking face.

Maria's sharp gaze pressed me to finish my sentence. But the words would not come out. How could I tell her that I was playing along with her son's charade because, deep down, I love him? I could not admit it, not even to myself.

My love for Sameer, who was also RhysFuckingVolkner, would never fade away, no matter what happened. Rhys may have wanted to scare me, may have tried to make my skin crawl with his toxic masculinity, and his face might have ignited anger within me, but I loved him. In truth, I loved him like a 13-year-old girl falling in love for the first time.

Even if the earth were to shatter beneath my feet or the sky crumbled down tomorrow, I could never change this fact: this man had shown me what love could look like—the type of love I had always dreamt of since I was a child.

"Because what?" Maria asked, her eyes seemingly able to read the turmoil in mine, the love and the hurt battling within me.

"Never mind," I mumbled, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes.

I walked back to the castle.

When I reached my room, I cried like a baby on my bed.

I wished I could stop loving him. I wished I had never figured out who he was or what he had done to me. Our cycling adventure, our Eiffel Tower tour, our first kiss, our sleeping together... replayed in my mind like a movie until the sun set on the horizon and my once-white room became cloaked in the darkness of the twilight sky.