Xavier's shadow loomed in the dim corridor, his father's words still echoing in his mind, a cacophony of disappointment and old money. His footsteps, heavy with the weight of legacy, carried him away, past the portraits of stern ancestors, to the sanctuary of his childhood room—his escape from the man he was expected to be.

Silence greeted him but for the soft breaths of his little moonbeam, Bella's chest rising and falling in the tranquil rhythm of sleep. A sliver of moonlight caressed her face, painting her in ethereal strokes of silver and shadow. Xavier stood there, a moment suspended, watching the little girl, who had become both his torment...