CHAPTER 26Terms & Conditions
The Wǎngshā estate was unusually quiet that evening. Fen and Tao had retired early. Ming was at a charity event. Zara was... somewhere, probably hacking something for fun. Sylas was in Berlin handling the server breach fallout.
Only Luna and Leo remained in the west wing.
At precisely 8 PM, Luna knocked on the door to his private study. Not the office at SilkWeb—this was his personal sanctuary within the estate. The door opened before her knuckles touched wood a second time.
He'd changed. Gone was the sharp black suit. He wore dark trousers and a simple black sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He looked younger. More human.
"Come in."
The study was not what she expected. Yes, there were screens—but smaller, muted. And books. Actual physical books filled floor-to-ceiling shelves. A fireplace crackled with real wood. The air smelled of sandalwood and old paper.
On a low table sat two covered dishes, a bottle of wine, and two glasses.
"You cooked?" Luna asked, surprised.
"The kitchen staff prepared it. I arranged it." He gestured to the seating area. "Please."
She sat on one of the deep leather armchairs. He poured the wine—a deep red—and handed her a glass before taking the chair opposite.
"To terms," he said, raising his glass.
"To terms," she echoed, taking a sip. The wine was rich, complex. Like everything about him.
For a few minutes, they ate in silence. The food was exquisite—seared scallops, truffle risotto, vegetables so fresh they tasted of the earth.
"Why did you really agree to the marriage contract?" Luna asked, setting her fork down. "You could have refused. Your family's power is absolute. You didn't need the Xiānyǔ alliance."
He swirled his wine, watching the liquid cling to the glass. "My grandfather is dying."
The statement landed between them, stark and unexpected.
"He has a degenerative neurological condition. It's slow, but inevitable. In five years, maybe less, he'll be gone. And when he goes, the old alliances—the ones held together by his will and my grandmother's cunning—will fracture."
"And you'll take his place."
"I'll try." He met her eyes. "But I'm not him. I don't command the same fear. I needed something—someone—to legitimize my authority during the transition. A visible alliance. A partner from an old family who understands our world but isn't corrupted by it."
"You think I'm not corrupted?"
"You care about preservation. About truth. That's a rare quality in our circles." He leaned forward. "I didn't just need a marriage, Luna. I needed a conscience."
She absorbed that, the weight of it settling on her shoulders. "And if I fail as your conscience?"
"Then we fail together." He stood, walking to the bookshelf. He pulled out an old, leather-bound volume and handed it to her. "My father's journal. The last one he kept before he died."
Luna took it carefully. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Open it. Page forty-two."
She did. Pressed between the pages was a faded photograph of a young man with Leo's eyes, smiling beside a woman who looked like a softer version of Ming. And tucked beside it, another paper crane—this one white, meticulously folded.
"He made that the day I was born," Leo said quietly. "He said it was a wish for my future. That I would always find my way back, no matter how far I flew."
"You keep it with his journal."
"I keep it to remember that he believed in things beyond data and power." He took the book back, his fingers brushing hers. "My father was… sentimental. It got him killed."
Luna's breath caught. "How?"
"He discovered something. About the original alliance between the four families. Something so damaging that it would have destroyed us all. He was going to expose it." Leo's jaw tightened. "He died in a car accident the night before he was supposed to meet with the city's attorney general."
"You think he was murdered."
"I know he was." Leo returned the journal to its shelf. "And I think the same people who killed him are the ones trying to break our marriage now. Because a strong Wǎngshā-Xiānyǔ alliance threatens to expose whatever secret he died for."
Luna stood, drawn to him. "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to find the truth," he said, turning to face her. "And we're going to use it to burn their house down."
He was close now. Close enough that she could see the flecks of silver in his dark eyes. Close enough to kiss.
"And what about us?" she whispered. "What are we going to be, Leo?"
His hand came up to cup her cheek. "Whatever we choose."
This time, when he kissed her, there was no hesitation. No calculation. It was heat and hunger and a promise. She kissed him back, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
The world narrowed to the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands on her waist, the solid warmth of him against her.
When they broke apart, both were breathing heavily.
"The terms," he said, his forehead resting against hers. "I want a real marriage. Not just on paper. I want a partner. A confidant. A wife."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I'll sleep on the couch for the rest of our lives." A faint smile touched his lips. "But I'd really rather not."
She laughed, the sound surprising both of them. "No couch."
"Good." He kissed her again, softer this time. "Then we start tonight."
He led her to the door connecting the study to his bedroom—their bedroom. The room was different now. His things were there, mingled with hers. A second robe hung beside hers in the bathroom. A watch rested on the nightstand.
It felt like a home. Or the beginning of one.
"Wait," she said as he reached for the hem of her sweater. "The data leak. My father. Jett. We still have—"
"Tomorrow," he said, his voice rough. "Tonight is ours."
And for the first time since she'd arrived at the Wǎngshā estate, Luna let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, this gilded cage could become something beautiful.