[Jay's POV]
The air in the Watson Estate was thick with the scent of ten thousand white roses and the frantic, electric energy of a high-stakes engineering project. Only this time, the project wasn't a satellite or a data stream—it was me.
I was sitting in the living room, tucked into the solid, warm curve of Keifer's body. For the past week, he had been my shadow, my protector, and my anchor. After the "System Crash" of the previous days, he had cleared his entire schedule, treating my recovery like the most critical mission of his life.I felt his heart beating against my back, a steady $100\%$ rhythm that synced perfectly with mine. We were looking at a tablet, trying to finalize the seating for the squad, but it was hard to focus when he kept kissing the side of my neck.
"Keif, stop," I whispered, though I was leaning back into him, my eyes fluttering shut. "Calix and Mayo cannot sit at the same table as the vintage wine. The probability of a disaster is too high."
"Let them cause a disaster," Keifer murmured, his voice a low vibration against my skin. "As long as you're standing at the end of that aisle, the rest of the variables don't matter."
The Return of the Glitch
The heavy front doors groaned open, and the sound of dragging wheels echoed on the marble. I felt Keifer's arms tighten around my waist instantly—a protective reflex that was now hardwired into him.
Bridget had returned.
She looked exhausted, her hair messy from the university trip, dragging a designer suitcase that looked like it had seen better days. She stopped dead in the foyer, her jaw dropping as she took in the transformation of the house. The foyer was draped in silk, and the golden archways for the ceremony were already.being bolted into place.
"What is this?" she snapped, her voice high and shrill. "Why is there a construction crew in the foyer? And why is the West Wing smells like a florist's shop?"
Mamma Serina walked out from the dining hall, looking every bit the commander-in-chief of the Watson legacy. She had a clipboard in one hand and a stopwatch in the other.
"Bridget, you're late," Mamma said, not even looking up from her notes. "Leave your bags. The caterers need help organizing the silver and the crystal. We have exactly six days to reach perfection."
"Perfection for what?" Bridget stammered, her eyes darting toward the living room where Keifer and I were practically fused together.
The Declaration
Mamma Serina finally looked at her, her eyes sparking with a cold, triumphant light. "For the wedding, dear. April 25th. Keifer and Jay are making it official. Now, move. We don't have time for idle questions."
I watched Bridget's face from across the room. It was like watching a machine overheat in real-time. She turned pale, then a mottled, angry red. She looked at me—wearing Keifer's oversized hoodie, his 5-carat brooch pinned over my heart, and his arms wrapped around me—and she looked like she wanted to set the room on fire.
"The 25th?" Bridget screamed, her suitcase falling over with a loud thud. "That's next week! You can't be serious! Keifer, she's a nobody! She's just a student you picked up from a lab! You're going to give her the Watson name? In front of everyone?"
Keifer didn't move. He didn't even stand up. He just tilted his head, looking at her with the cold, detached gaze of a CEO dismissing a failed proposal.
"She's not 'just a student,' Bridget," Keifer's voice was like velvet-wrapped steel. "She is the Empress of this estate. And on the 25th, the 'Constant' becomes permanent. If you find that difficult to process, I suggest you go to your room and recalibrate your attitude."
The Explosion of Envy
"It's not fair!" Bridget wailed, her jealousy finally bursting out in a jagged, ugly sob. She stepped toward us, her finger shaking as she pointed at me. "I've spent my whole life trying to be a Watson! I have the pedigree! I have the grace! And you choose... this? A girl who cries in hallways and gets panic attacks? She's a glitch, Keifer! She's a mistake!"
I felt the old fear try to rise, but then I felt Keifer's hand move to my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin, grounding me. I looked at Bridget, and for the first time, I didn't feel small. I felt 100% whole.
"Bridget," I said, my voice steady and clear, the 'Empress' fully online. "The difference between us isn't pedigree or grace. It's that I'm here for the man, and you're here for the name. You can polish the silver all you want, but you'll never have the 'Glow.' That's a variable you can't fake."
Bridget let out a choked, animalistic sound of pure rage. She looked at Mamma Serina, who was pointing toward the kitchen with a stern expression, and then back at the two of us—lost in our own perfect world.
She didn't help with the silver. She snatched her bag and bolted up the stairs, her screams of frustration echoing through the house until her bedroom door slammed shut with a force that made the roses tremble.
Keifer turned me in his arms, his eyes soft and filled with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
"Analysis, Jay?" he whispered.
"System check: Hostile interference cleared," I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck. "And the 'Glow'? It's at 100% saturation."
"Good," he said, leaning down to kiss me. "Because in seven days, the whole world is going to see it."