Lila didn't sleep the night Adrian arrived. She had tried—blown out the lamp, buried herself beneath the quilts, turned on her side, her back, her side again. But her thoughts were loud, relentless, circling like crows over the idea of him settling into their estate with the quiet assurance of a man who knew he belonged.
Because he didn't. Not really.
He didn't belong to her world of cracked tiles, worn-out ledgers, and dusty skirts hemmed with old thread. He came from moonlit court halls and corridors filled with sharpened smiles and poisoned wine.
And yet…
There he was, the next morning, sitting across from her father in the solar, sleeves rolled and expression taut with focus, as if this had been part of his life all along. His voice was calm, measured, noble. Discussing trade routes and tax adjustments as though he truly cared—not just about the estate, but about her.
Lila stood in the doorway, watching the two men exchange thoughts over the estate's new market structures. Her father had seemed more alive than she'd seen him in months—speaking like a lord again, not a man shackled by ruin. The staff, too, had straightened their backs, repressed their frowns. The presence of Adrian Blackwood lit something in them.
But that only made her more uneasy. Because everything had changed too fast.
And Adrian… he was dangerous in the way only someone utterly capable of reshaping a world could be.
That afternoon, she found him alone in the eastern garden, skimming over letters with a furrowed brow. Lila stood a moment too long, hesitating. He noticed her instantly.
"You're frowning," he said, not looking up.
"And you're reading through correspondence as though you're not currently in someone else's home under suspiciously noble pretenses."
He chuckled softly, folding the parchment with practiced ease. "That's a rather dramatic way to thank someone for saving your estate's reputation."
She crossed her arms. "Adrian, don't."
His smile faltered.
Lila sighed and stepped closer. "I'm grateful. I am. You've done more than you had to. But you can't pretend this is normal. That people won't start asking questions. That they aren't already."
"I want them to ask questions," he replied simply. "Just… not the wrong ones."
She gave him a long, measured look. "You're doing all this to protect me. And I want to know—why?"
His expression shifted. Something darker flickered in his eyes. "Because I care about you."
Her breath caught.
He stood, voice quiet but unflinching. "You're not a pawn, Lila. You never were. But people will try to treat you like one. Evelyne already is. If I can shield you even just long enough for you to rise above the whispers, I'll do it."
Her gaze dropped. "And when you leave again?"
His silence was deafening. After a moment, he stepped forward and reached into his coat, withdrawing a small, rolled scroll bound with a Blackwood seal.
"Then you'll use this," he said. "My signature. My crest. You'll declare whatever initiative you like. You'll show them you are not some fragile noblewoman—they'll see a woman who commands the attention of a high lord and the respect of the realm."
Lila took the scroll, the parchment firm in her grip.
"This won't fix everything," she murmured.
"No," Adrian said. "But it gives you a sword. And you're clever enough to know how to wield it."
That evening, Lila walked through the estate alone, her thoughts tangled.
She wasn't naive. His presence changed things. Staff whispered. Servants speculated. The village girls watched the manor more eagerly now, daring to dream that a noble's carriage might stop by again.
But it wasn't just the politics. It was him.
Adrian had a way of seeing her not just the girl who stumbled into the wrong world, but the one who might change it. He listened. He defended her. He knew when to fight and when to let her take the reins.
And yet that made it harder to breathe.
Because what did it mean when the male lead of the story stopped chasing the heroine… and started protecting her?
Lila stared out from the manor's balcony at the starlit sky, her fingers still brushing over the scroll he had given her.
She had been reborn as a character doomed to be overlooked. But the story had shifted. The court could say what it liked. Evelyne could scheme in her polished halls. Adrian was here.
And as much as she hated the idea of needing him—she wasn't foolish enough to pretend his presence didn't tilt the scales in her favor. For now.