Maria.

The door opened.

I turned instinctively, my breath catching as Daniel stepped into the room. For a brief moment, everything seemed to pause, time, sound, even my thoughts. His foot barely crossed the threshold before he stopped short, his entire body stiffening as his eyes landed on Galen.

The look that crossed his face was unmistakable.

Shock.

Not the mild kind, not surprised, but the sharp, naked kind, like a man who had just been caught standing in the ruins of a mistake he thought no one would ever discover. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightening as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

And then he looked at her the way someone looks at a crime they regret committing.

My heart sank.

I didn’t know what bound them together, didn’t know the shape or name of it, but I knew one thing with certainty: whatever it was, it wasn’t ordinary. It wasn’t the relationship between an Alpha and a servant. It wasn’t casual, and it definitely wasn’t insignificant.

Daniel recovered quickly. Too quickly.

In the span of a heartbeat, the shock vanished, replaced by the calm, composed mask of an Alpha who had mastered the art of control. He straightened, smoothed his expression, and stepped fully into the room as though nothing out of place had just occurred.

But it was already too late.

I had seen it.

"Maria," he said gently, his voice steady as he moved closer to me. "Come sit. I asked you to rest, you are still recovering."

His words were directed at me, his attention firmly fixed on my face, yet something about it felt deliberate. Intentional. He didn’t spare Galen even a glance.

Not even one.

I did as he asked, though my body felt heavy, my movements slow. As I settled back onto the bed, my eyes drifted toward Galen despite myself.

The change in her was immediate, and painful to witness.

Galen had always been good at pretending. Good at smiling when things hurt. Good at shrinking herself into the role of a rogue, as though she were trying desperately to convince the world, and perhaps herself, that she belonged there. But no matter how hard she tried, something about her never quite fit that mold.

And now, standing there in Daniel’s room, that pretense was cracking.

Her face had gone pale. Her lips trembled as she pressed them together, and her hands were clenched tightly in front of her, fingers twisting the fabric of her dress as if she were holding herself together by force alone. The smile she often wore was gone, replaced by something raw and exposed.

Fear?

Pain?

I felt a knot tighten painfully in my stomach.

"Alpha Daniel..." she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was something pleading in it. Something unfinished.

"You are dismissed," Daniel snapped sharply, cutting her off before she could say another word. "Your attention isn’t needed here."

The sudden harshness in his voice made me flinch.

He didn’t look at her. Not once.

It was as though she wasn’t even standing there.

Galen stiffened, her breath hitching audibly. For a second, I thought she might argue, or break down, but instead, she turned abruptly and strode toward the door. Her movements were rigid, controlled, as if any pause would cause her composure to shatter completely.

The door slammed shut behind her with a loud, jarring thud.

The sound echoed in the room, leaving behind a heavy, unsettling silence.

I stared at the door long after it closed, my thoughts tangled and restless.

What was that?

Why did Daniel react that way? Why did Galen look like she had just been cast aside rather than dismissed? And why did it feel like I had just witnessed the aftermath of something far deeper than I was meant to see?

I turned my gaze back to Daniel, but he had already resumed his calm demeanor, adjusting the sheets, moving about the room like nothing unusual had happened.

But my mind refused to let it go.

What was with her reaction?

Was she truly just a rogue assigned to a guest... or was there something far more dangerous and complicated hiding beneath that label?

"Maria, come over here," Daniel called a few seconds after Galen left.

His voice broke through the thick silence she had left behind, but it did nothing to ease the heaviness sitting in my chest. I hesitated for a heartbeat, my eyes still fixed on the closed door, as if it might suddenly open again and explain everything for me.

It didn’t.

I swallowed and moved toward him slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. The room felt smaller now, tighter, as though the walls had drawn closer after Galen’s abrupt exit. Daniel stood near the bed, his posture relaxed on the surface, but I noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed slightly at his sides.

I stopped a short distance from him.

So many questions burned on my tongue.

What was going on between him and Galen?

Why had she looked so shaken?

Why had he dismissed her like that, so coldly, so decisively?

The questions crowded my mind, pushing against each other, demanding to be asked. Yet I remained silent. I pressed my lips together and lowered my gaze.

It wasn’t my place, I told myself.

This wasn’t my business.

"Oh heavens," I muttered inwardly, almost scoffing at my own thoughts.

Not my business?

I let out a slow breath, my fingers curling into the hem of my dress. How could I pretend it wasn’t my concern when my fate was already tangled with his? If Daniel won the competition, I would go with him. My life would no longer be my own, it would be tied to his, bound to his choices, his past, his secrets.

I couldn’t afford to walk blindly into that.

I needed to know him. Truly know him.

Yet the affection he had shown me since I woke up had felt real, warm, gentle, protective in a way I wasn’t used to. The way he looked at me, spoke to me, held me when I broke down... none of it felt forced.

But then Galen happened.

And now doubt crept in quietly, like a shadow slipping under a door.

Was the care he showed me the same care he had shown her?

Maybe that was just the kind of man he was, kind to everyone, gentle by nature, offering comfort without meaning anything deeper by it. The thought unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

"Maria," Daniel said suddenly, reaching out and tapping my forehead lightly with his fingers. "What’s going on in that head of yours?"

The touch startled me, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I blinked and looked up at him, my eyes meeting his.

He was watching me closely now, his expression softer, curious. Concern lingered in his gaze, but there was also something else, something cautious.

I didn’t answer immediately.

I just stared at him.

I took in the sharp lines of his face, the calm authority that seemed to cling to him even in moments like this. He looked nothing like a man burdened by secrets, yet my instincts screamed otherwise.

My heart beat faster.

Without fully realizing it, the words slipped past my lips.

"Alpha Daniel," I said quietly, my voice steadier than I felt, "what’s your relationship with Galen?"

The effect was immediate.

He froze.

Not in the casual, almost metaphorical way people did when they were surprised, but completely. As though something inside him had short-circuited. His body stopped obeying the quiet rhythm it had carried moments ago.

His hand, which had been lowering back to his side, hung suspended in the air, fingers slightly curled, caught between motion and stillness. His shoulders drew tight, the relaxed line of them locking into place, and the easy calm he’d worn so effortlessly only seconds earlier shattered, clean and sharp, like glass hitting stone. It was gone before he could recover it.

For a fraction of a second, his eyes widened.

Just a fraction—but enough.

The mask he carried slipped, not fully, not dramatically, but just enough to reveal something raw beneath the carefully constructed composure. Something unguarded. Exposed.

Shock.

Maybe guilt.

Or fear.

I couldn’t tell which one dominated, or if it was a dangerous mix of all three, tangled together in that single, unguarded moment. But I saw it. I felt it. And once seen, it couldn’t be unseen.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Silence dropped between us, thick and suffocating, pressing in from all sides until it felt almost physical. It rang in my ears, so loud that I could hear my own heartbeat, fast, uneven, pounding against my ribs. Each second stretched, heavy and deliberate, daring one of us to move first.

I became acutely aware of how close we were sitting.

Too close.

Close enough to feel the warmth of him, to sense the tension radiating off his rigid frame. The air between us felt charged, alive with everything that hadn’t been said, everything that had been buried and ignored for too long. Unspoken truths hovered there, sharp and dangerous, threatening to cut the moment open.

I hadn’t meant to corner him.

I hadn’t planned to ask, not then, not like that. The words had slipped out before I could weigh them, before I could stop myself and retreat behind safer questions. Behind silence.

But there was no taking it back now.

It was too late.

I had crossed a line, stepped into a space neither of us was prepared to face. And judging by the way Daniel sat there, unnaturally still, eyes locked on mine as if the ground beneath him had cracked open, I knew I had asked the one question he probably wasn’t ready to answer.