[Jay's POV]
The morning after my "integration" into the Watson family felt like waking up inside a soft, golden cloud. I felt light, radiant, and—as Mamma Serina had predicted—a little physically drained. I didn't have the energy to pick out a complex outfit, so I did what felt most natural: I grabbed another one of Keifer's crisp, white designer shirts. It was huge on me, the cuffs swallowed my hands, and it smelled so much like him that it made my heart ache with a quiet, private joy.
I padded down the stairs with Keifer right behind me. His hand was resting firmly on the small of my back, his thumb tracing slow circles through the thin fabric of the shirt. We looked like a unit—relaxed, intimate, and unshakable.
But as we rounded the corner into the breakfast hall, the "homey" atmosphere vanished.
Three strangers were standing near the buffet, their posture stiff and their luggage still being whisked away by the staff. Mamma Serina and Pappa Keizer were already there, looking unusually formal.
"Keifer, Jay," Mamma said, her voice carrying a warning edge. "These are the Chens. My cousins from the Shanghai branch. Della, Josh, and their daughter, Bridget."
The family was the picture of elite perfection. Josh and Della offered polite, distant nods, but it was Bridget Chen who caught my attention. She was wearing a blood-red silk dress that looked far too expensive for a casual breakfast. She was beautiful in a sharp, crystalline way—like an ice sculpture.
"Keifer," Bridget purred. She didn't look at Mamma. She didn't look at me. Her eyes were fixed on Keifer's face, and as they traveled down his body, my internal sensors went into a full-blown red alert.
It wasn't the look of a cousin. It wasn't even the look of a friend. Her eyes were dark, heavy with a primitive, calculating lust. She looked at Keifer not as a relative, but as a prize she had been waiting years to claim.
"It's been far too long," Bridget said, stepping into Keifer's personal space, completely ignoring the fact that his hand was still on my waist. "You've certainly... matured since our last summer in the islands."
She reached out, her long, manicured fingers hovering near the buttons of his shirt—the same shirt I was currently wearing a duplicate of.
"And who is this?" Bridget finally flicked her gaze toward me. It wasn't a friendly look. She scanned me from head to toe, her eyes lingering on the oversized shirt I was wearing. "A little houseguest? Or did the help forget to give the students their own uniforms?"
I felt the air in the room drop twenty degrees.
Beside me, I felt Keifer's entire body turn to reinforced steel. His hand moved from my waist to my shoulder, pulling me flush against his side in a possessive, protective grip.
"Bridget," Keifer's voice was like a blade of ice cutting through the room. "This is Jay. She is my fiancée, the Empress of this house, and the only person in this room who has the right to wear my clothes. I suggest you calibrate your tone before you find out how short a two-week stay can actually be."
Bridget's eyes flickered with a momentary shock, but she didn't back down. Instead, she let out a small, tinkling laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, Keifer. Always so dramatic. I was just admiring her... rustic charm."
She turned back to Keifer, her gaze dragging over his chest again with a hunger that made my skin crawl. "I hear you're the youngest CEO in the world now. I brought some documents from my father's firm. Perhaps we can spend the afternoon in the library? Alone? To discuss... 'business'?"
The implication was so thick you could have mapped it with a radar.
Pappa Keizer cleared his throat, a deep, rumbling sound. "Bridget, the library is for study. Keifer is on holiday. And Jay is his priority."
We sat down for breakfast, but the "Glow" I had been carrying felt like it was being tested by a toxic acid. Bridget sat directly across from Keifer. She didn't eat. She spent the entire meal staring at him—watching the way he moved his fork, the way he tilted his head, the way he spoke. Every time he leaned over to whisper something to me or to put a piece of fruit on my plate, I could feel Bridget's gaze burning into my temple like a laser.
She didn't see me as a person. She saw me as an "error" in her master plan.
"You're very quiet, Jay," Bridget said suddenly, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Is the conversation too... high-level? I forgot that university life is so much simpler than the corporate world Keifer and I belong to."
I set my tea down slowly, meeting her predatory gaze. I remembered the way Keifer had held me last night. I remembered the bloodstains on the sheets and the way he had carried me to the bath. I wasn't just a student anymore
The conversation is perfectly fine, Bridget," I said, my voice calm, cold, and echoing the "Empress" tone I used in the lab. "But in my world, we value efficiency. Staring at someone else's fiancé during breakfast is a very poor use of data. It's a 100% waste of energy, especially since the result of his heart is already a closed loop."
Keifer let out a sharp, triumphant smirk, squeezing my hand under the table.
Bridget's face paled for a fraction of a second, her grip tightening on her silver fork until her knuckles were white. The "Lust" in her eyes turned into a sharp, jagged envy.
The Chens were here for two weeks. Bridget Chen had just walked into a war zone, and she had no idea that the "Empress" she was underestimating was the only one with the keys to the kingdom.