Chapter 22: Morning Light & Complications

Allison Croft

The first thing Allison noticed when she woke up—

Was the silence.

Not the heavy kind.

Not the suffocating kind she had gotten used to in the Morrison house, where silence meant someone was about to speak and she needed to be ready.

No.

This silence... breathed.

Soft light filtered through the tall windows, warm and steady, stretching across the bed like it had nowhere else to be.

Allison stared at the ceiling for a moment, her body slow to move, her mind even slower to catch up.

No anxiety.

No dread.

No Martha.

She blinked.

"...huh."

Then memory hit.

The dinner.

The reveal.

Anthony’s face.

Her father.

Her mother.

Lucian—

Allison sat up abruptly.

"...oh no."

The kiss.

Heat rushed up her neck so fast she dropped back onto the pillows and covered her face with both hands.

"Nope. Absolutely not. We’re not doing this."

Her brain, clearly uncooperative, replayed it anyway.

The way he looked at her.

The way he didn’t rush her.

The way he waited—

"...he kissed me back," she whispered into her hands.

And not like Anthony ever had.

Not distracted.

Not entitled.

Intentional.

That was the problem.

Allison groaned, dragging her hands down her face.

"Dangerous. This is dangerous."

A soft knock interrupted her spiral.

She froze.

Then scrambled upright, grabbing a nearby pillow like it could somehow restore dignity.

"Come in!"

The door opened.

And there stood Nora.

Perfect posture.

Impeccable as always.

Calm.

Too calm.

Allison narrowed her eyes slightly.

Nora met her gaze with complete composure.

"Good morning, Miss Croft."

"...morning."

A pause.

A very specific pause.

The kind where two people knew something had happened and were absolutely not going to address it.

Nora didn’t blink.

Didn’t smirk.

Didn’t even breathe differently.

It was honestly impressive.

Allison, on the other hand, was one wrong sentence away from combusting.

Nora stepped further into the room.

"Breakfast is prepared," she said smoothly. "Mr. Calloway is downstairs."

Of course he was.

Calm.

Collected.

Probably not internally screaming like a normal person.

Allison cleared her throat. "Okay... thank you."

Nora inclined her head.

Then paused.

Just slightly.

"There is also a guest."

Allison blinked. "A guest?"

"Yes."

That was it.

No elaboration.

No explanation.

Just guest.

Allison frowned. "You’re being vague on purpose."

Nora’s lips twitched.

Just barely.

"I find it encourages movement," she said.

Allison stared at her.

"...I don’t know if I like you yet."

Nora’s expression softened.

"You will," she said simply.

That caught Allison off guard.

The tone wasn’t formal anymore.

It was... warm.

Unexpectedly so.

Nora glanced briefly around the room, then back at her.

"I hope you rested well."

Something in the way she said it—quieter now, more personal—made Allison’s shoulders drop slightly.

"I did," she admitted.

Nora nodded once.

"Good. You needed it."

A beat.

Then, as if deciding something—

"If you’re unsure where anything is, or if you’d like changes made to the room... you only have to ask."

Not sir.

Not Mr. Calloway.

Ask.

Allison studied her.

"You do realize I just got here, right?"

"Yes."

"And you’re already offering to rearrange the house?"

Nora’s expression remained calm.

"Not the house," she said. "Just your comfort in it."

That landed.

Soft.

Unexpected.

Allison blinked.

"...okay," she said quietly.

Nora gave a small nod, satisfied.

"I’ll let you get ready."

She turned toward the door, then paused.

Without looking back, she added—

"And Miss Croft?"

"Yeah?"

"...you have a very nice laugh."

The door closed before Allison could respond.

Allison stared at it.

"...oh my God."

She flopped back onto the bed.

"She definitely knows."

⸻

By the time Allison made her way downstairs, she had pulled herself together.

Mostly.

Outfit: simple, effortless.

Hair: loose.

Face: natural.

Armor: minimal.

Because she refused to walk into breakfast looking like she was emotionally spiraling over a kiss.

Even if she absolutely was.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, voices drifted toward her.

Lucian’s—low, steady.

And another.

Lighter.

Easier.

There was humor in it—but underneath, something sharper flickered through the tone.

Allison slowed.

"...you look tired," the unfamiliar voice said.

"I’m not," Lucian replied.

"You definitely are."

"...Theo."

A warning.

Subtle.

Ignored.

Allison stepped into the room.

And saw him.

The man turned toward her.

And something in her chest dropped.

Not because of how he looked—

Though he was striking in a careless way. Tall, relaxed posture, dark hair slightly messy, features sharp but softened by an easy smile.

No.

It was his eyes.

They recognized her.

Immediately.

Allison’s breath caught.

"...you."

The word slipped out.

His smile shifted.

Less playful.

More real.

"Yeah," he said.

And just like that—

Rain.

Blood.

Her hands pressing down.

His voice, weak but still teasing.

"You’re a terrible liar."

Her eyes widened.

"The accident—"

He nodded slowly.

"You stayed," she said.

"You told me to."

A breathless laugh escaped her.

"That’s—wow. You look..." she gestured vaguely, "...less like you almost died."

"That’s the goal, yeah."

She stepped closer without thinking, eyes scanning him instinctively.

"You’re actually okay?"

Theo watched her carefully.

Every flicker of concern.

"Yeah," he said softer. "I am."

A pause.

Something shifted.

Lucian stepped in then.

Smooth.

Grounding.

"Allison," he said, "this is Theo."

A beat.

"My cousin."

Allison blinked, looking between them.

"...of course he is."

Theo grinned. "Runs in the family."

Lucian gave him a look.

Theo ignored it.

⸻

Breakfast was... layered.

Not tense.

But not simple either.

Allison sat across from Theo, Lucian at the head of the table.

The food was perfect.

The atmosphere?

Less so.

"You cook?" Allison asked.

"No," Lucian said.

"He supervises," Theo added.

"I manage."

"You hover."

"I ensure results."

Allison smiled despite herself.

Theo watched that.

Closely.

Too closely.

Her phone rang.

The sound cut through the table, sharp and unexpected.

Allison glanced down.

And then her entire face changed.

"Hold on—"

She grabbed it immediately.

"Hello?!"

A voice burst through the speaker—

Loud.

Dramatic.

Absolutely unfiltered.

"Bitch."

Allison lit up.

"SIMONE?!"

Lucian blinked once.

Theo choked on his coffee.

"I KNOW YOU’RE NOT ACTING SURPRISED," Simone continued. "YOU BLEW UP A WHOLE FAMILY LAST NIGHT. I HAD THREE PEOPLE TEXT ME AND ONE OF THEM OWES ME MONEY."

Allison laughed—full, real, bright.

"I was busy!"

"Oh, I saw," Simone said. "Green dress? Execution? Iconic. You ate and left no crumbs."

Theo leaned back, deeply entertained.

Lucian watched Allison.

Not the conversation.

Her.

"You’re back in town?" Allison asked.

"Obviously. You think I’d miss this? Absolutely not. We’re meeting. Today. Immediately. I need details, names, and emotional damage reports."

Allison grinned. "You’re insane."

"And you love me. Where are you?"

Allison hesitated, glancing up briefly—

At Lucian.

Then Theo.

Both watching her now.

Different expressions.

Same focus.

"...I’ll text you," she said.

"Good. Dress cute. We’re celebrating your villain era."

Click.

The call ended.

Silence.

Theo leaned forward slightly. "I like her."

"You would," Allison shot back.

Lucian’s voice cut in, calm. "Who is Simone?"

Allison smiled.

"Simone Laurent. My best friend."

"A dangerous woman," Theo added.

Allison pointed at him. "You don’t even know her."

"I don’t need to. I respect the energy."

Lucian’s gaze flicked between them.

Measured.

Then back to Allison.

"You’re meeting her today?"

"Yeah."

A pause.

Then—

"Good," Lucian said.

Simple.

But something in it felt intentional.

Supportive.

Allison softened slightly.

But across from her—

Theo watched.

Quiet now.

Thoughtful.

Because in less than an hour—

He had learned something important.

Allison Croft laughed easily.

Felt deeply.

And trusted selectively.

And Theo?

Theo had just stepped into her world.

For real this time.

No distance.

No observation.

No shadows.

And as he leaned back in his chair, watching her smile fade into something softer—

He realized something else.

He didn’t want to watch anymore.

He wanted in.