Luna stood there, her cheek still burning, her mind reeling.
She turned slowly—only to see Xander standing across the room, his arms folded, his expression unreadable.
Luna's throat tightened. Without a word, she turned away, her eyes downcast. She walked quickly toward the hallway, blinking back tears she refused to let fall.
The golden gown swayed behind her, bright against the shadows, as she disappeared down the corridor—alone.
Inside the dimly lit guest room, Luna sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she tried to contain the storm inside her. But the dam broke.
Tears spilled down her cheeks—hot, angry, humiliated tears. Her body shook with silent sobs, and she pressed her hands to her face, trying to steady her breathing. Her gaze drifted down to her hand… and there it was.
The ring.
The cold metal sparkled mockingly against her skin—a symbol of a family she felt like a stranger in. Of expectations she never asked for.
Her anger surged. With a furious breath, she yanked the ring off her finger and threw it across the room. It clinked softly against the marble floor and rolled—stopping at the feet of someone standing just inside the doorway.
Perry.
Silently, she bent and picked up the ring. Her eyes lingered on it for a moment before she stepped into the room.
"Dimple used to admire this ring when she saw it on Mother Miley's hand," Perry said softly, her voice carrying both wistfulness and tension. "She used to say she wanted it one day."
Luna didn't look at her. She sat still, her gaze distant, her expression unreadable.
Perry walked closer, her tone changing—more measured, more pointed. "But this isn't just a ring, Luna. It's a key. A treasure."
Luna's brow twitched, but she didn't respond.
"You want to know who the real treasure is in this house?" Perry continued, stepping forward and holding the ring in her palm like it held more weight than gold.
"It's Xander."
That name broke through Luna's silence.
Perry's voice lowered, filled with unspoken meaning. "That's why Mother Miley is so protective. Not just because he's her son—but because he is the image of Blackwood. He carries everything—legacy, power, pride. That ring is a symbol of his future."
Luna finally looked up, her eyes red but sharp. There was no awe or fear in her gaze—just a cold burn of betrayal.
"So, what am I then?" she asked bitterly. "A placeholder? A piece to fit into their perfect family portrait?"
Perry didn't answer. She simply placed the ring on the nightstand beside Luna and turned away, her final words lingering in the silence.
"Maybe. Or maybe you're something they can't control. And that's what terrifies them most."
After that confrontation, Xander didn't see Luna again.
He waited, lingered by the hallway for a while—arms folded, pretending to be unaffected—but minutes passed and she didn't return.
He went to her room. Empty.
He glanced at the balcony. The curtains danced in the breeze, but there was no trace of her. His eyes lingered on the bed where the ring still sat, untouched. He clenched his jaw.
Where did she go?
Without a word to anyone, he made his way toward the kitchen. The lights were dimmer now, the servants quietly wrapping up after the party. Dimple was wiping the counter, clearly irritated at something—or someone. Perry was stacking plates, her movements soft and tired.
Xander stepped in casually, pretending to look around.
Dimple noticed him immediately. Her back straightened. "Need something?" she asked, her voice deliberately polite.
"No," he replied, eyes sweeping the room as if inspecting it, though it was clear he wasn't looking at plates or people. "Just checking in."
Perry's gaze darted to him, then to the door. She noticed the restlessness in his stance. The way he tapped his fingers once against the edge of the counter, then stopped himself.
"She's not here," Perry said quietly, reading the question he hadn't asked.
Xander paused. "Who?"
Perry gave him a look, dry and sharp. "You know who."
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned away, masking his frustration behind cool indifference. "If you see her, tell her... never mind."
Dimple smirked from behind the counter. "Maybe she finally realized she doesn't belong here."
Xander froze mid-step. His head turned slightly, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. "Watch what you say."
Dimple's smile faded. Perry shot her a warning glance and returned to her dishes.
Without another word, Xander walked out of the kitchen, his shoulders tense.
He didn't want to admit it—but there was a knot in his chest. A growing unease. Luna wasn't the type to just disappear quietly.
And yet... she was gone.
Xander sat in his room, restless. The echo of the evening's chaos still clung to the silence around him. He kept glancing at the door, almost expecting Luna to walk in. But minutes dragged on, and she never came.
Unable to sit still any longer, Xander rose and stepped out of his room. He didn't admit—even to himself—that he was looking for her, but his eyes scanned each hallway with quiet urgency.
As he turned the corner leading toward the outer wing of the mansion, a flicker of movement caught his eye.
There, standing alone on the balcony, was Luna. Her figure was silhouetted by the soft glow of the moonlight, her yellow gown gently swaying in the breeze. She stood still, gazing down at the silent, glimmering surface of the swimming pool below.
Xander slowed his steps, watching her from a distance.
Something about the way she stood—still, distant, fragile—stirred something unfamiliar in him. For a moment, he didn't know whether to approach her or leave her in peace.
But his feet had already started moving.
Committing suicide is forbidden," Xander said, his voice calm but sharp as he stepped onto the balcony. "And I told you before—you won't die by jumping from here."
Luna didn't turn to look at him fully, just slightly shifted her stance. "It's my life. I'll jump from wherever I want. Besides, I wouldn't die after informing anyone first, would I?" Her tone was laced with quiet defiance.
Xander took another step closer. "Where's the ring?."
Her eyes burned with a fiery mix of pain and fury. "Oh, I'm sorry—should I have treated your family's sacred heirloom with reverence? Right after your mother slapped me in front of an entire room?"
His jaw clenched. "Mother was upset. You—"
"Wore red?" Luna cut in sharply. "Or danced with my friends? Or laughed a little too freely? What exactly was my crime, Xander?"
He had no answer. His eyes held hers, but his silence was louder than words.
Luna stepped closer, her voice cracking—not from fear, but from the strain of holding herself together. "I'm not your family's puppet. I didn't ask for any of this. Not the ring, not the mansion, not the damn name."