Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
EMILIA
I was running on three hours of sleep and a stolen coffee pod from the faculty lounge.
The old drama hall floor had left lines down my back, my fingers were stiff from the cold, and my ribs still ached from trying to curl tight enough to stay warm.
But none of that mattered today.
Alexander was coming.
Which meant I had to look… together.
I stood in the tall glass lobby of the academy’s main building, smoothing my blazer with a practiced sweep, teeth biting gently into my bottom lip as I faced the mirror near the entrance.
I needed a smile.
Not my real one — not the kind I used when I actually felt something.
I needed the Adams heir smile.
The one built for rooms like this. For dynasty lunches and empire expectations.
The one that said everything was fine.
I tried one .
Too tense.
Another.
Too tired.
I adjusted my posture. Rolled my shoulders. Lifted my chin.
There.
That one. Calm. Soft. Strategic. Just enough warmth to say I was happy to see him, not enough to raise suspicion.
Then I heard the door open behind me.
I glanced up instinctively — and froze.
Bastion Crow was there.
He was leaning against the doorframe like he’d just stepped out of the admin office behind him — hands in his pockets, school tie undone, his usual scowl softened by something far worse: silence.
Stillness. That focused way only the Crow twins could stare, like they were memorizing how you broke before deciding whether it was worth the effort to shatter you more.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t smirk.
He didn’t look away.
Just watched.
And for one awful second, I was certain he’d been standing there long enough to see it all.
The half-practiced smiles.
The way my hands shook.
The lie I was about to wear like perfume.
I had no idea why he was even in this part of the building.
The Crows didn’t do admin. They didn’t wait for appointments.
But maybe that was what unnerved me most — the fact that he’d come from that office, and yet still managed to look like the hallway belonged to him .
I dropped my gaze and turned away, slipping the chosen smile into place like armor.
Then I walked past him.
Soft steps. Controlled pace.
Like I hadn’t seen him.
Like he hadn’t just seen everything .
Outside, the black cars were already pulling up.
Men in suits stepped out first, scanning the path ahead.
My brother would be behind them — tall, sharp, and untouchable — the crown of our family stitched into the lapel of his coat.
I crossed the courtyard as if nothing was wrong.
As if Bastion Crow hadn’t just watched me rehearse how to survive.
He didn’t say a word. And I didn’t look back.
My bottom lip trembled as I tried not to cry.
Not because of the lunch with my brother — that had gone perfectly .
He told me I looked radiant. That I reminded him of our mother when I smiled like that.
I didn’t tell him how long it took me to choose that smile.
I didn’t tell him I hadn’t slept in my own bed in weeks.
That my perfume had been replaced by the must of old theatre curtains.
That my shampoo had been reduced to a travel bottle I hid under auditorium seats.
I just smiled. Ate slowly. Nodded politely.
And by the time I got back to the academy, the email was already waiting.
Office of Residence Disciplin e
SUBJECT: TIME-LOCK LODGEMENT ENFORCEMENT
Time-lock.
My stomach turned at the word.
Everyone whispered about it, but no one actually got put on it — not unless they’d seriously messed up.
And I hadn’t even done anything .
They said I’d “neglected communal dorm policy.”
They gave me three months.
Ninety days of mandatory curfew, beginning tonight.
7 p.m. lockdown.
8 a.m. release.
My fingerprint and location had to be lodged via the Academy app before 7:00:00 PM each evening.
And worse — the new system required confirmation by a housemate to verify the biometric scan.
Without a second fingerprint, my lodgement would be flagged.
And if I failed to lodge three times, I’d be pulled from the academy.
And still, the worst part?
They hadn’t told my brother.
Yet.
I pulled up the app.
TimeLock v4.7.0
A slick navy interface with red countdown numbers:
00:04:53
00:04:52
I had less than five minutes.
I was still outside the Crow residence, hand frozen on the gate keypad.
I hadn’t walked through that front door before midnight in nearly a month.
I didn’t even know what I expected to find inside .
Rejection?
Silence?
Judgment?
Probably all three.
But none of them compared to being the first Dynasty Daughter to be expelled.
I inhaled once. Deep. Controlled.
And walked in.
The smell hit me first — that mix of cedarwood and something darker. Expensive. Dangerous. Masculine.
The way the Crow house always smelled.
It was quieter than I expected.
No shouting. No thudding footsteps.
Just the faint hum of the kitchen fridge and the buzz of the digital clock in the living room.
And then I saw him.
Cameron.
He was lounging in the open-plan living space, one leg draped over the side of the couch like he ruled the place, scrolling lazily through a notification stack on his phone.
He didn’t see me at first.
I hesitated for a second, then took a few soft steps toward him.
He heard me.
His head lifted, and for a second, he blinked like he was seeing a ghost .
Then, his brows shot up.
“Crowns and collars,” he muttered. “Look what the thunderstorm dragged in.”
I clutched my phone, screen lit with the TimeLock countdown.
00:03:18
I cleared my throat, voice soft. “Hey… I’m sorry, but… can you do something for me?”
He looked up, skeptical. “Depends. Does it involve throwing someone off a balcony?”
I forced a smile, holding out the phone. “Can you… lodge that I’m here?”
He frowned. “What?”
“My fingerprint won’t go through without a housemate to verify I’m actually in residence. I need someone to press their fingerprint next to mine.”
He stared.
I waited.
Then, slowly — with that signature Crow smirk playing at the corner of his mouth — he reached out and took the phone.
But before he pressed anything, he paused.
“What’s in it for me?”
I blinked.
“Whatever you want,” I said quickly, too desperate to mean anything else. “I’ll owe you.”
He leaned back. “ Anything ?”
I nodded.
He arched a brow. “I want the breakfast platter.”
I blinked again, confused. “The… what?”
“The one you used to get delivered. You know — those flaky croissants, the mini cinnamon scrolls, the egg soufflé cups with the sun-dried tomato crust? You stopped them.”
I stared at him. “You ate those?”
He gave a low laugh. “Emilia. Everyone in this house ate those. You think they just disappeared into the bin?”
I didn’t know what stunned me more — the fact they liked them, or the fact they noticed when they stopped.
“Deal,” I whispered.
He grinned and pressed his thumb to the screen next to mine .
LODGED: 6:58:43PM
RESIDENCE: THE CROW HOUSE
WITNESS: CAMERON CROW
“Thanks,” I said quietly, taking the phone back.
“What’d you do to get slapped with a TimeLock?” he asked, stretching.
I hesitated. Then exhaled.
“Forgot to fill out the fridge usage form for the communal dorm,” I muttered.
He stared at me. “You’re kidding.”
I wasn’t.
That was the excuse they gave me. The paperwork excuse.
But we both knew it wasn’t about the fridge.
It was about punishment .
Control .
Power .
He shook his head. “Bet they wouldn’t’ve done it if your brother stuck around five more minutes.”
I nodded faintly.
“Don’t forget the platter,” he added as I turned to leave. “And make it the one with the pastries. None of that Greek yogurt health crap.”
I nodded again and walked toward the stairs, holding the phone to my chest as if the confirmation screen might disappear if I didn’t protect it.
I hadn’t walked into this room before midnight in nearly a month.
And somehow… the six minutes before it struck felt heavier than any of the nights I’d crept in while they were already asleep — or pretending to be.
I hovered outside the door. Phone in hand.
My fingerprint already logged. Cameron’s, too.
Location matched. Lodged .
I’d been in the house hours ago. But I hadn’t been here . Not really.
I let out a slow breath.
The brass handle was cool under my fingers. I turned it.
The door opened without a sound.
They were both inside.
Luca was in bed, one arm behind his head, shirtless. His eyes flicked up when I entered, unreadable.
Bastion was sitting at the desk by the window, typing something — dressed in black sweats, hair wet from a shower.
Neither of them said anything.
Neither of them looked surprised.
The air in the room was thick with silence and low firelight.
The same wood-burning scent that always made my throat catch — oak and smoke and whatever cologne they used that lingered in the rugs and sheets.
My bed was still there. Across from theirs.
Still untouched.
Still mine.
My things were minimal. Exactly how I’d left them when I stopped staying here.
I’d packed everything down to avoid annoying them — no makeup, no cookies, no pink, no perfume.
I was forgettable now. Background noise .
I crossed the room quietly, placing my phone down on the nightstand.
I didn’t glance their way.
I didn’t say anything.
I peeled back the covers. Sat down. Pulled my legs underneath me and reached for the sleep shirt I’d left folded under the pillow.
Cotton. Neutral.
Nothing soft .
Nothing satin.
Still, I felt both their eyes on me.
Bastion didn’t stop typing.
Luca didn’t shift.
But I knew .
Their silence was louder than words.
I turned off the lamp and slid into bed. Back to them. Eyes open. Breathing as steady as I could manage.