JAY'S POV —
By the time evening settles over the Watson mansion, I should feel exhausted.
Emotionally drained. Socially dead. Ready to disappear into silence for at least twelve business days.
Instead—
I'm standing near the balcony doors with a glass of sparkling water in my hand while Sam aggressively explains to Lola why "married glow" is scientifically real, and somehow—
Somehow—
They keep looking at me while saying it.
"I do NOT have a glow," I argue immediately.
"You literally do," Sam says, scandalized. "You walked in here looking like corporate murder and now you look soft."
"I have never looked soft a day in my life."
Lola smiles into her tea. "That's what makes it noticeable."
Traitors.
All of them.
The living room is warm now, quieter than before, sunset pouring through the massive windows in gold streaks while Kade and Serina argue lightly over dessert portions in the background like this is a perfectly normal family evening and not the psychological destruction of my entire personality.
And the worst part?
I fit here too easily.
That's the terrifying part.
Not the teasing.
Not the rituals.
Not even the fact that I currently own enough Watson property to start diplomatic conflict.
It's this.
The comfort.
The way mom keeps touching my arm absentmindedly when she talks to me. The way dad already included me in family business jokes. The way Lola looks at me like she can finally breathe easier now that Keifer "isn't alone anymore."
Like I was always supposed to be here.
Which is insane because this is fake.
Fake fake fake.
So why does it feel so terrifyingly real?
"You're spiraling again," a low voice says quietly beside me.
I nearly jump.
Keifer.
Of course.
I look up at him, irritation immediate. "You appear too silently."
"You think too loudly."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"It does to me."
Annoying.
Deeply annoying.
He's loosened up since morning—black button-down now, sleeves rolled to his forearms, watch slightly undone, hair messier than before like the day finally caught up to him, and I absolutely refuse to acknowledge how unfairly attractive he looks standing under warm evening light.
So naturally—I glare at him harder.
His mouth twitches.
"You're staring," he says.
"I'm judging."
"Dangerously close activities."
Before I can reply, mom suddenly looks over from the couch.
"Oh good, both of you are here," she says way too sweetly.
No.
That tone means danger.
Immediate danger.
"What now Mom?" Keifer asks cautiously.
Serina smiles.
"You're staying tonight."
Silence.
My brain stops functioning.
"…What?"
"No," Keifer says instantly at the exact same time I do.
Kade looks up from his drink. "Why not?"
"Because we live twenty minutes away and I don't have my stuff with me?" I offer weakly.
"And because we're leaving," Keifer adds calmly.
Lola looks genuinely offended. "It's the new year's and you both already don't want to spend time with us?"
"That is emotional manipulation," Keifer says flatly.
"It's working though," Sam whispers to me dramatically.
It is.
Horribly.
Serina folds her arms. "Absolutely not. First New Year day is spent with family it's a Watson tradition."
"Another tradition?" I whisper in horror.
"This family has too many customs," Keifer mutters beside me.
"You are part of this family."
"That's unfortunately how genetics work."
Kade laughs into his glass while Sam nearly falls sideways again from laughing too hard, and I make the mistake of looking toward Lola—
Big mistake.
Because she's smiling softly and suddenly saying no feels impossible.
Keifer notices it too.
I know he does because his posture shifts slightly beside me, his expression tightening for half a second before he exhales slowly.
"…Fine," he says finally.
Immediately the room erupts like they just won a war.
"YES," Sam yells.
"Oh thank God," Serina sighs dramatically.
Lola looks genuinely emotional.
Meanwhile I stand there blinking because how did we lose this battle so fast?
"You people are terrifying," I mumble.
"Welcome to the family," Kade says proudly.
I hate it here.
Except I don't.
Which is worse.
Much worse.
About twenty minutes later, we're upstairs.
Correction—I'm upstairs.
In Keifer's room and that realization alone feels weird enough to short-circuit me.
Because this room—This room is him.
Not the polished public version.
Not the cold executive.
Not the controlled man from meetings.
Just… Keifer.
The real one.
The walls are darker than I expected, shelves lined with books that actually look read, not decorative, awards stacked carelessly near the study instead of displayed arrogantly like most rich men would do, and then—
Photos.
I stop near the shelf automatically.
There's one of him and Sam years ago, her missing front teeth while he looked deeply exhausted even as a teenager.
Another with dad and the entire at some racing event.
One with Lola.
And then—One with me in it.
I freeze.
It's old.
A Sunday brunch years ago.
I'm laughing at something off-camera while Keifer stands beside me looking irritated—but not actually irritated and Jace standing on my other side and infront of him little Sam.
In the picture he was....looking at me.
My stomach flips violently.
"What the hell," I whisper.
"You found the embarrassing archive already?"
I turn instantly.
Keifer stands near the bathroom door now, sleeves rolled higher, watching me with obvious resignation.
"You kept this picture in a frame??"
"It's just a picture."
I narrow my eyes suspiciously before looking around more carefully and that's when I notice it.
An old scar across his shoulder in another framed photograph from some college sports event.
Then another one.
Smaller.
Faded.
Different.
My expression shifts.
"…Keifer."
He pauses and suddenly the room changes.
Because until now—I've only known the version of him that faces the world.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Untouchable.
But this room?
This room knows things I don't.
Things nobody told me and before I can ask anything—
A knock interrupts us.
Keifer glances toward the door. "Probably Mom."
"I'll get it."
I walk over carefully, opening the door just enough to see Serina standing there with the most suspicious smile I have ever seen in my life.
"Oh no," I say immediately.
"Don't be dramatic," she says, handing me a silk gift bag.
"What is this?"
"Something for the night."
I stare at her.
She stares back.
Then—She winks.
Actually winks and walks away before I can interrogate her.
Excuse me???
I close the door slowly.
Lock it.
Turn around.
Keifer's already disappeared into the bathroom, voice drifting out casually, "I'm taking a shower."
I narrow my eyes at the bathroom door before finally looking down at the bag.
Suspicion rises immediately.
"No," I whisper already.
I pull the wrapping paper aside.
And then—I stop breathing because inside the bag is not pajamas.
Not normal sleepwear.
Not anything remotely safe for human civilization.
It's a blue silk nightdress so scandalously tiny and sheer it should legally require government approval.
Lace.
Thin straps.
Almost transparent.
I hold it up in complete horror.
"Oh my God."
This isn't clothing.This is a criminal offense.
I stare at the nightdress.Then toward the bathroom.Then back at the nightdress.
And suddenly—For the first time since this fake marriage started—
I genuinely don't know how I'm surviving this night....