Chapter 10: "Your Daughter’s Future Wife"
Morning
Asteria slowly opened her eyes.
The room was still dim, the only light provided was a small lamp on the bedside table, its warm glowing back against the darkness just enough to reveal shadows and shapes.
There were no windows here—not a single one. The hotel suite, if it could even be called that, was hidden away on the second floor underground, buried beneath the earth like a secret that was never meant to see the sun.
No morning birds. No creeping daylight. Just the soft, artificial glow of a lamp and the heavy silence of a place that did not want to be found.
Asteria tried to move.
A pained groan slipped from her lips as her entire body protested. Every muscle felt stiff, locked into place, as if she had been folded and tied into knots and left there overnight.
Her back ached. Her hips throbbed. Even her fingers felt heavy when she tried to curl them into fists.
Last night had been too much.
Keres had so much stamina—relentless, unending, a force of nature that Asteria had no hope of matching. The memory came back in fragments: warm skin, whispered words she couldn’t quite remember, hands that held her and didn’t let go. Her face flushed just thinking about it.
Speaking of Keres.
Asteria reached beside her, her hand patting the cool sheets, searching for warmth, for presence, for anything that told her she wasn’t alone.
But her fingers found nothing except empty fabric and the indentation of a body that had already left. The space beside her was cold and Keres was not there anymore.
Instead, a single piece of paper rested on the pillow—a note, folded neatly, waiting for her.
Asteria took the note with trembling fingers and brought it close to her face, squinting at the handwriting. The letters were sharp, confident, slanted in a way that spoke of someone who wrote quickly because they expected to be understood the first time.
"Stay for as long as you want. I already ordered my men to guard you. I’m just going to fix something—like the mess from last night.
Keres Eisenthurn."
Because Asteria had only finished fourth grade elementary, her reading comprehension and speed were not good. The words blurred together, unfamiliar shapes that she had to sound out in her head one by one.
She recognized some of them—stay, long, men, fix, mess, night—but they didn’t arrange themselves into anything coherent. The only words she truly understood were at the bottom.
Keres Eisenthurn.
That name was not hard to read. It was sharp and clear, two words that carried more weight than any sentence ever written.
Keres Eisenthurn. The woman from last night. The woman who had held her, touched her, looked at her like she was something worth seeing.
Asteria’s eyes widened.
The fog of sleep vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, creeping sobriety that made her stomach drop and her heart slam against her ribs.
She couldn’t make sense of the note—most of it was just shapes and guesses—but that name alone was enough. Keres Eisenthurn. The heir of the Eisenthurn family. The most powerful, most feared woman in the underworld.
And Asteria had spent the night with her.
"Oh my God." The whisper escaped before she could stop it, barely audible, cracking in the middle.
She pressed her free hand to her mouth, her eyes still wide, her pulse hammering. "What have I done?"
She tried to move again—really move this time, not just shifting under the blankets—and another groan was forced from her throat. Her hips ached badly, a deep, throbbing pain that made her wince.
Her thighs were still shaking a little, small tremors that she couldn’t control no matter how hard she tried to steady them. Every part of her body reminded her of what had happened, what she had done, what she had allowed.
"I have to get up."
The words were a command, sharp and desperate. Asteria forced herself upright, ignoring the protest of her muscles, and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, a shock that helped clear her head. She looked around the room—still dim, still windowless, still unfamiliar—and spotted her clothes scattered across the floor like evidence of a crime.
She slid off the bed, her legs wobbling beneath her, and bent down to pick up her panty. The fabric was soft in her fingers, and the moment she touched it, the memory slammed into her: Keres pulling them off of her last night, those sharp eyes watching her face the entire time.
Asteria couldn’t even speak. She just put them on, her movements was mechanical and her face was burning.
Next came the bra—another memory attached, another flush of heat across her cheeks. Then her dress, the fabric wrinkled from being discarded so carelessly, smelling faintly of perfume and something else she couldn’t name.
She pulled it over her head and smoothed it down with shaking hands, not bothering to check if she looked presentable. She just needed to leave. She needed to go home, to her tiny room, to the familiar pain of her own life where at least she knew the rules.
Her face was a deep shade of pink now—embarrassment, shame, something warmer that she didn’t want to name. She couldn’t look at herself in the mirror and she couldn’t bear to see whatever expression was on her face.
She rushed to the door and pulled it open.
Two massive men stood on the other side, both dressed in dark suits, both built like walls of muscle and silence. They turned their heads in unison when the door opened, their eyes landing on Asteria with the calm, professional assessment of bodyguards who had seen everything and were surprised by nothing.
"Ms. Asteria?" The one on the left spoke first, his voice deep and rumbling.
Asteria’s throat tightened. "Y-Yes?"
The bodyguard nodded once. "You must come with us."
"W-Why?" The word came out smaller than she intended, almost childlike.
"Boss Keres gave us an order." The bodyguard’s expression did not change. "To escort you safely back home."
Asteria’s blood ran cold. Home. The place where her father waited, where punishment was always just one mistake away. Her hands began to tremble at her sides.
"W-Wait." She took a half step back, her voice barely above a whisper. "H-How did Keres Eisenthurn know my name?"
The two bodyguards exchanged a glance—the kind of look that passed between men who shared the same employer and knew better than to answer certain questions.
"The boss has her own ways of knowing people, Ms. Asteria." The bodyguard’s voice was gentle but firm, as if he were explaining something to a child who wouldn’t understand the full answer anyway.
"Please don’t ask us. We’re just her men."
Asteria stared at them for a long moment, searching their faces for something—kindness, deception, or even a hint of what was waiting for her. But there was nothing there except professional neutrality. They were doing their jobs. They didn’t care about her fear.
She nodded slowly, her shoulders sagging in resignation. She had learned long ago that compliance was safer than resistance.
She stepped out of the room, and the bodyguards fell into step beside her, one on each side, flanking her like prisoners being escorted to their cells.
They led her through a maze of hallways—all dim, all windowless, all identical in a way that made her head spin. She had no idea where she was or how far underground they were. The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of expensive perfume.
They did not take her to the main exit.
"The boss wants you to use the secret exit." The other bodyguard spoke this time, his voice even deeper than his companion’s, vibrating in his chest like distant thunder. "Paparazzi are at the front entrance and exit. They’ve been camped out since early morning."
Asteria’s stomach dropped. "W-What’s going on?"
Neither man answered. They just kept walking, their pace urgent but not rushed, their shoes silent against the carpeted floor. They turned a corner, then another, and suddenly they were standing in front of a plain white door that looked like it led to a storage closet.
One of the bodyguards pushed it open.
Beyond was a narrow stairwell leading up, the walls bare concrete, the lights flickering weakly and Asteria followed them up, her legs are still shaking and her breath coming in short, nervous gasps.
They emerged at the top into a small garage, empty except for a single black limousine, its engine already running, its windows tinted so dark she couldn’t see inside.
The bodyguard on the right opened the door for her. "Someone took a photograph of you and Boss Keres last night," he said, his voice matter-of-fact, as if he were reading the weather.
"Kissing each other. They released it to the media this early morning."
Asteria felt the blood drain from her face.
She stood there, frozen, her hand hovering over the door handle, her mind struggling to process the words. A photograph of her and Keres. Kissing each other and was released to the media.
Her throat closed up. Her vision blurred at the edges and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
The bodyguard waited until she finally forced herself to move. She climbed into the limousine, her legs barely supporting her, and sank into the plush leather seat. The door closed behind her with a soft, final thud.
The vehicle moved smoothly through a secret route—tunnels and back alleys, paths that were never marked on any public map. They drove in silence for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, until finally they emerged and blended into the public road, just another black car in a city full of them.
Asteria stared out the tinted window, watching the buildings pass by, her reflection ghostly and pale in the glass. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know what to say, and she was definitely nervous—the kind of deep, gnawing anxiety that settled into her bones and made her stomach churn.
Once her father, William Auclair, found out about the photograph, he would surely punish her brutally again. The thought made her hands tremble visibly, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. She could already hear his voice—"You disgrace me again, Asteria!"—could already feel the whip cracking against her back, the boot pressing down on her hand, the door slamming shut while she bled on the floor.
The fear was cruelly crushing her heart, squeezing it until she thought it might stop.
Flashbacks flickered through her mind—beatings, screams, cold, indifferent faces, the taste of blood, the feeling of being trapped, the knowledge that no one was coming to save her, because no one had ever come.
She snapped back to the present when she noticed the driver had turned onto an unfamiliar road.
Asteria leaned forward, her brow furrowing, her heart already starting to race again. "Uhm, excuse me?" Her voice was shy, hesitant, as if she was apologizing just for speaking. "T-This is not my way back home."
The driver’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror—briefly, before returning to the road.
"I’m sorry, Ms. Asteria." His voice was calm, unhurried. "But Boss Keres gave me strict orders."
"What orders?"
The driver didn’t answer. He simply turned the wheel, guiding the limousine left onto a road that was secluded by towering trees on both sides, their branches forming a canopy overhead that blocked out most of the sky.
The road was wide enough for a car but barely, the pavement smooth and new, as if it had been paved specifically for private use.
They drove for another few minutes, the trees growing thicker, the world growing quieter, until suddenly they stopped in front of a massive black iron gate.
The gate was tall—at least fifteen feet—with ornate bars twisted into patterns that looked both beautiful and menacing. A small automated identification screen was attached to a stone pillar beside the gate, its blue light blinking softly in the morning shade.
The driver put his window down and reached out to the screen, pressing his thumb against a small sensor. The screen flashed green.
"Access granted."
The confirmation was spoken by a computerized voice, cold and emotionless, and then the massive gate began to open on its own—slowly at first, then faster, swinging inward to reveal a long, winding driveway lined with ancient oak trees.
Asteria’s eyes went wide. "W-Where is this place?"
The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror again, and for the first time, something like a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"This?" He guided the limousine through the gate and onto the driveway. "Welcome to the Eisenthurn estate mansion."
"W-What?"
Asteria pressed her face against the window, her breath fogging the glass, her eyes struggling to take in everything at once. The mansion was massive—a sprawling structure of dark stone and tall windows, with turrets and balconies and chimneys that disappeared into the morning mist.
The architecture was old, gothic almost, but everything looked new and expensive and carefully maintained. Dark colors dominated—charcoal grays, deep blacks, rich mahoganies—but it didn’t look gloomy. It looked powerful. Intimidating. Like a fortress built by people who had never learned to be afraid.
The driveway curved around a fountain—a stone angel pouring water from an urn—and ended at the front door, which was easily twice Asteria’s height and made of dark wood carved with intricate patterns.
"H-How?" Asteria whispered, but she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.
The driver parked the limousine, got out, and opened her door before she could even reach for the handle. He offered her his hand, which she took without thinking, and helped her step out onto the cobblestone driveway.
He made sure she didn’t hit her head as she emerged, a small courtesy that seemed almost absurd given the circumstances.
"Uhm." Asteria looked around, her head swiveling, her eyes wide. "What should I do here?"
The driver did not answer. He simply closed the door, walked back to the driver’s seat, and drove the limousine away, disappearing around the side of the mansion toward what she assumed was a parking area.
Asteria stood alone in front of the massive doors, feeling small and lost and terribly, terribly scared. But she was used to that feeling. She was used to being left alone in unfamiliar places, used to not knowing what came next, used to the cold weight of uncertainty pressing down on her shoulders.
Being treated this way didn’t bother her much anymore. It was just another version of the same story she had been living her entire life.
She didn’t have to wait long.
"Asteria."
The voice was familiar—warm, feminine, carrying a note of recognition that made Asteria’s heart skip. She turned her head slowly, her body stiffening, and saw a woman walking toward her across the cobblestone driveway.
Mrs. Faye Eisenthurn.
She looked almost exactly the same as Asteria remembered from fifteen years ago—elegant, poised, with kind eyes and a smile that seemed to light up her entire face.
She was dressed simply but expensively, her dark hair swept up in a loose bun, her hands reaching out as she approached.
"Mrs. Eisenthurn?" Asteria’s voice came out small and surprised. She hadn’t expected to see her again. She hadn’t expected to see anyone who remembered her name.
Faye closed the distance between them in a few quick steps and pulled Asteria into a warm, tight hug. The embrace was so unexpected, so genuinely affectionate, that Asteria froze for a moment before her arms slowly lifted and returned it.
"It’s been so long since we saw each other!" Faye pulled back just enough to look at Asteria’s face, her hands still resting on her shoulders.
"Oh, sweet child. Are you okay? Keres informed us that she would have her men bring you here." Her expression shifted to something softer, more worried. "I heard about the scandal, so I panicked and immediately got worried."
Asteria blinked. "What scandal?" Her mind is still a bit hazy and couldn’t properly process information, the bodyguards earlier already told her about it but she forgot again.
"You and my daughter."
The voice came from behind her—deep, blunt, unapologetically direct. Asteria turned and found herself face to face with Alfonso Eisenthurn, who had emerged from the mansion without her noticing.
He was a large man, broad-shouldered and powerful in his gray long coat, and gray streaking his dark hair and a face that looked like it had seen too much and cared too little.
"You both had sex last night, didn’t you?"
Alfonso’s words hit Asteria like a physical blow. Her eyes went wide, her mouth fell open, and her cheeks flushed so deeply that even her ears turned red. She was so surprised by his sudden, blunt question that she couldn’t form a response—couldn’t even breathe.
"Alfonso!" Faye sneered at her husband, her voice sharp with irritation. "Show some respect to Asteria!"
Alfonso shrugged, completely unbothered by his wife’s anger. "What? We’re all open-minded here." He said it like it was obvious, like he couldn’t understand why anyone would be upset by such a direct question.
Faye’s eyes narrowed. "Even if so! Asteria is a girl! Your daughter’s future wife!"
The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible.
Asteria heard them—heard every syllable, every letter—but her brain refused to process them. She stood there, frozen, her mouth still open, her eyes still wide, her mind scrambling to make sense of what Faye had just said.
Future wife.
Her future wife.
Keres Eisenthurn’s future wife.
"HUH?!" The sound burst out of her before she could stop it, loud and disbelieving, echoing across the cobblestone driveway. "FUTURE WIFE?!"
Asteria’s head spun. Her knees went weak. And somewhere behind her, Alfonso let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by the entire situation, while Faye simply smiled—warm, knowing, and utterly unapologetic.
The morning had only just begun. And Asteria had a feeling that nothing in her life would ever be the same again.
