Chapter 2 Shadows in the Palace

Zara's POV

Sleep didn't come easy.

The Martins' mansion was too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that soothed, but the kind that pressed against my chest and made every creak of the floorboards feel like a warning. I lay awake in the oversized bed, my wedding gown finally abandoned for a silk robe, staring at the ceiling that glittered faintly under the moonlight.

Leon's words wouldn't stop echoing. Never go near the west wing.

I turned restlessly, biting my lip. What could possibly be hidden there? Why even mention it if he wanted me to ignore it? He could have locked the place, set guards, yet instead, he'd issued a warning, one that sounded more like a dare.

The clock ticked past midnight before I finally gave up on sleep. I slipped on my slippers, tied the sash of my robe tighter, and padded out into the hall.

The Martins' mansion felt even larger in the dark. Shadows stretched across the gold-trimmed walls, and portraits of long-dead ancestors stared at me with painted eyes. I passed the grand staircase, where chandeliers dangled like cages of diamonds, and made my way deeper into the corridors.

My heart beat faster with each step.

Finally, I reached it. The west wing.

The double doors loomed ahead, darker wood than the rest, older, carved with intricate patterns that looked almost... secretive. I hesitated, fingers trembling as they brushed the handle.

Don't do it, Zara.

But curiosity was a stronger force than fear.

The door gave way with a soft click.

Cold air rushed out to meet me, carrying a faint scent, dust, metal, and something else I couldn't place. The hallway stretched ahead, cloaked in darkness, lined with doors on either side. Unlike the rest of the mansion, this wing was untouched by wealth: no polished chandeliers, no fresh paint, only silence and shadows.

I swallowed, taking a step inside.

My slipper brushed against something on the floor. I bent quickly, picking it up. A small silver cufflink glinted in the moonlight from the window. Expensive. Engraved. With the initials... A.M.

My breath caught. Not L.M.

A.M.

I frowned. Who is A.M.? Another Martins?

Before I could process what that meant, a sound drifted from further down the hall. Not footsteps. Something softer. A shuffle. A low metallic clang. I stilled, straining my ears.

My instinct screamed to run back. But another part of me, the part that had always asked too many questions, the part my father once scolded as "reckless curiosity", pushed me forward.

I crept down the hallway, passing doors that looked locked, others slightly ajar. The air grew colder the deeper I went, my skin prickling with unease.

Then, another noise. A sharp slam, like a door being shut.

I froze.

"What are you doing here?"

My stomach dropped.

Leon stood at the end of the hallway, his tall figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the faint glow of moonlight. His eyes, usually cold and unreadable, now burned like steel.

And this time, he didn't look indifferent.

He looked dangerous.

My throat went dry. I quickly hid the cufflink in my palm, tucking my hand behind my back. "I... couldn't sleep," I said, forcing my voice to steady. "I was just... walking."

His gaze flicked to my hand, then back to my face. "Walking?" His voice was calm, but laced with warning. "In the one part of the house I told you to stay away from?"

My heart hammered. I wanted to lie, to shrug it off, but my pride pushed me to challenge him. "You said not to get curious. You might as well have handed me a map with an X marked on it."

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then Leon moved closer, each step deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine.

When he finally stopped in front of me, I had to tilt my chin upward to meet his gaze. He was close enough that I caught the faint scent of his cologne, dark, expensive, suffocating.

"You don't listen very well," he murmured.

"Maybe," I shot back, though my pulse thundered. "Or maybe you're hiding something you don't want me to find."

His jaw tightened.

For a flicker of a second, something unreadable passed through his eyes, guilt? Anger? Fear? But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same cold mask he wore at the wedding.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Zara," Leon said, his voice low. "This house has rules. And if you break them, you won't like the consequences."

My breath caught, but I refused to look away. "Then tell me what you're hiding."

His lips curved faintly, not a smile, but something sharper. "No. It's safer if you don't know."

He reached past me and, with a swift motion, pulled the door shut. The sound echoed like a final warning.

I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Leon leaned close, his breath warm near my ear. "Stay out of the west wing."

Then he walked away, leaving me standing in the shadows, my fingers clenched around the cufflink in my palm.

I exhaled shakily, my heart still pounding.

Whatever Leon was hiding... it wasn't just about wealth, politics, or family legacy.

It was something far darker.

And now, I had proof.

The cufflink burned against my skin. A.M.

Whoever that was... they were part of the Martins' secret.

And I wasn't sure if finding the truth would save me or destroy me.