The doorbell rings at precisely eight o''clock. Miles, already dressed and eating cereal at the kitchen table, perks up. "Is that Daddy?"


    "Not this time," I say, checking my appearance in the hallway mirror. I''ve dressed casually today-jeans and a nice blouse-but I still feel nervous. There''s something about Caleb that makes me want to impress him, as if I''m trying to prove I would have been a worthy Willford all along.


    I open the door to find Caleb standing there with arge box under one arm and a garment bag slu shoulder. He''s dressed impably as usual, and suddenly feel like a slob.


    "Good morning," he says with a smile. "Ready for your first lesson?"


    over his


    "As I''ll ever be," I reply, stepping aside to let him in. Miles darts into the entryway while Caleb is standing there, taking everything in. "Miles, buddy, you remember Mr. Caleb, right?"


    Caleb''s expression softens at the sight of Miles. "Hello, young man. It''s nice to


    see you


    Miles hides behind my legs but smiles shyly at Caleb, and Caleb returns the smile. It''s a relief to see such a nice interaction after the way Arthur''s parents acted, and gives me more hope that Miles will finally be epted into the family I know he deserves.


    Caleb sets the box down on my coffee table and carefully hangs the garment bag on a hook near the door. "I brought a few things to help with today''s lessons," he exins, opening the box to reveal fine china teacups, cloth napkins, and an assortment of silverware.


    "You''re not messing around," I mutter.


    "Etiquette is the most important thing in high society," he says. "Let''s begin with the basics."


    For the next hour, Caleb guides Miles and me through proper table manners- Miles, curious, asked to join, and Caleb graciously included him in the lesson. We go over which fork to use for what course. How to hold a fe. The correct way to sip soup from a spoon. How to dab, not wipe, your mouth with a napkin.


    Miles, surprisingly, takes to it like a fish to water. He sits up straight, chin lifted, carefully mimicking every movement Caleb demonstrates. I''ve never seen him so focused on anything before.


    "Excellent posture, Miles," Caleb praises, and Miles beams in response.


    Something warm unfurls in my chest as I watch them together, Maybe someday, Caleb will be the doting uncle Miles deserves. Maybe Miles will finally have the extended family that loves and epts him unconditionally. That would fulfill all of my wildest dreams. And it will make lying to Arthur for a few days totally worth it. "Now for you, Iris," Caleb says, turning his attention my way. "Let''s work on your sitting posture. Shoulders back, spine straight, but rxed."


    I adjust myself ordingly, bncing a book on my head as he instructs. "Like this?"


    "Almost. Chin slightly lower-there, perfect." Caleb nods approvingly. "You''ve got natural grace. No surprise there-it''s in your blood."


    J bite back ament about how my "natural grace" didn''t seem to help me at the g or during that disastrous interview. Instead, I focus on maintaining the posture while practicing the tea-pouring technique he''s showing


    1. me.


    "You want to appear effortless," Caleb exins as I carefully tilt the teapot. "Everything should look easy, even though it''s not."


    "That seems to be the theme in high society," I mutter. "Pretending things are easier than they are."


    Calebughs. "You know, you have a better sense of humor than Se-" He quickly stops himself, face reddening. My throat bobs at the mention of Selina, who''s still in ama in the hospital. This must be hard for Caleb; she''s still the sister he was raised with, even if she''s a bat out of Hell.


    14


    After another hour of practice, we take a break. Miles wanders off to his room to y, leaving Caleb and me alone at the table.


    "You''re a quick study," Caleb says. "Better than I was at your age."


    "I''ve always been able to adapt,” I reply with a shrug. "When you grow up in an orphanage, you learn to fit in wherever you can."


    Caleb''s expression darkens. “You shouldn''t have had to adapt. You should have grown up with your real family."


    "Well. I try not to dwell on what might have been," I say, even though that''s a massive fucking lie. The truth is, I''ve been dwelling on nothing else since I found out. It still feels like I''m dreaming, or perhaps sitting in a padded room somewhere, hallucinating andpletely disconnected from reality.


    A silence falls between us as we sip our tea, but there''s something on my mind


    that I have to bring up. "Caleb," I begin hesitantly, setting down my cup. "I''ve been thinking about Arthur. About telling him the truth.”


    Caleb tenses, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around his teacup. "I thought we agreed to keep this between us for now."


    "I know, but..." I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "He''s my mate. It feels wrong to keep something this massive from him."


    "It''s only been two days," Caleb points out.


    "I know that. But I also know Arthur. He''d want to know, and he deserves to know."


    I study Caleb''s face, noting the tight set of his jaw. "Is it because of what happened to Selina? Is that why you don''t trust him?"


    Caleb''s expression closes off. "Arthur wasn''t exactly careful with my sister-with the woman I believed was my sister for twenty-six years. He nearly killed her."


    "It was an ident," I say firmly. "Arthur would never hurt anyone intentionally." Caleb raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"


    I nod firmly without hesitating. "Positive."


    He sighs, setting down his cup. "I just don''t want to see you suffer. Politics is a-


    "A dirty business, I know," I cut him off. "But I have to tell him, Caleb, and I will. Not today, and not tomorrow, but soon. I''ll give you a few more days so we can settle in, but no more than that. Despite what you think, Arthur is my mate. I won''t keep secrets from him."


    For a moment, Caleb looks like he might argue further. Then, surprisingly, his expression shifts to one of respect.


    "You''re more like our mother than I expected," he says. "She has the same stubborn streak. The same loyalty." He nods slowly. "Alright. A few more days, but that''s all."


    Relief washes over me. "Thank you for understanding."


    "I don''t understand," Caleb admits with a slight smile. "But I respect your conviction. It''s... admirable."


    We return to our tea lesson, the tension gradually easing as Caleb teaches me the proper way to host a tea party. Within a few minutes, we''reughing over Caleb''s story about a disastrous diplomatic function where he identally used the wrong fork and offended a foreign dignitary.


    Suddenly, the door opens, and we all turn to see Arthur standing in the entryway. He''s holding a bouquet of flowers.


    But it''s not the flowers that catch my attention-it''s his eyes. They sh bright red for a split second as he takes in the scene.


    He''s jealous. And if there''s one thing I know about a jealous Alpha, it''s that this is not going to go over well.