Between Shadows and Unexpected Alliances

Chapter 1

**After the Unfortunate Engagement, the Alliance with the Indomitable Dragon**
Alden Blackwood found himself wed to Julian Everhart as a mere substitute.
He was the discarded son of Lady Beatrice Blackwood, while Julian Everhart was the castaway of the Everhart Clan.
But they were not the same; Julian had the freedom to choose, and Alden did not.
To everyone's surprise, Julian Everhart did not refuse.
Living with a stranger for the first time, Alden Blackwood was cautious, trying not to disturb the cool demeanor of the man beside him.
Yet, things did not go as planned; somehow, Julian Everhart was disturbed.
Seeing the crease in Julian's brow, Alden felt he might be thrown out at any moment.
But Julian only asked, “Are you hurt?”
In that instant, Alden thought that perhaps Mr. Everhart could be one of the few good men left in the world.
If Julian Everhart knew what Alden was thinking, he would probably scoff.
If he were a good man, then there would be no such thing as a bad one.
Having lived through the trials of his past life, Julian Everhart had little attachment to this world.
Whether through broken engagements, humiliation, or being used by others, once he witnessed his suitors begging at his feet for mercy, everything lost its charm.
Only Alden Blackwood was different.
Alden was like a timid cat, always retreating into the corners, cautious even with each breath.
Yet this very person had been the one to bring the entire Goldwyn Family to its knees in the past life.
Curiosity piqued, Julian decided to marry Alden.
He wanted to see, up close, how a frail cat could transform into a fierce tiger.
As time passed, he found himself caring for this lovely cat licking its own wounds.
Julian Everhart changed his mind.
He wanted to protect Alden Blackwood, ensuring that this cat remained beautiful and forever nestled in his arms.
“Alden, don’t worry; it’s slippery out with the snow. We still have an hour to go,” the driver said.
“Uh… just call me by my name, please. Thank you,” Alden replied softly.
The chauffeur glanced at the rearview mirror. The boy sat there, wrapped in an old black down coat, huddled deeply into the collar. Long hair concealed his brow, giving him a somewhat forlorn appearance.
He sighed inwardly.
Despite addressing Alden as “young master,” the truth was Alden wasn’t really a child of the Goldwyn Family.
He had been brought into the Goldwyn fold by his mother through remarriage—what people would call a burden.
The members of the Goldwyn Family didn’t particularly like Alden.
However, the driver didn’t understand why; by the time he worked for the Goldwyn Family, Alden had already moved to The Boarding Academy.
He took another glance in the rearview mirror.
Perhaps sensing that the journey was still long, Alden leaned against the window and seemed to drift off to sleep.
His long hair fell over Alden’s pale cheek, the contrasting colors reminding the driver of a dying bird.
A brief lapse in focus was excusable, especially on a slippery day, but no matter how skilled a driver might be, he couldn’t help but jostle the passenger in the backseat, causing the car to veer back on course.
“Good thing it’s not the usual spoiled young lady in the back; if she were uncomfortable, my job would be history,” he reassured himself.
He eventually parked and turned back apologetically.
Alden merely winced from where he had hit his forehead, silently gesturing that he was fine.
However, during the rest of the journey, every nerve in him remained tense as he sat rigidly for the next hour.
Alden wasn’t wasting time in silence; he was engrossed in thoughts about why his mother, who usually neglected him at The Boarding Academy, suddenly wanted him back at Goldwyn Manor for the New Year.
Despite his musing all the way, he could not conjure an answer.
Upon arriving at Goldwyn Manor, Alden looked at the villa that seemed somewhat foreign and felt a surge of trepidation.
His past experiences resurfaced as if they had just occurred; every detail was still vivid.
“You’ve arrived, Alden!” the driver called.
Alden blinked, jolted from his reverie, and murmured his thanks.
Outside, although the sun shone, the thick blanket of snow remained.
His shoes offered little warmth, and a gust of cold air rushed up his pants leg, prompting him to shiver and step back a couple of paces.
The driver had already driven to the underground garage; there was no turning back now.
Thankfully, the parking area was not far from the villa's entrance, so Alden hunched his shoulders and quickly made his way to the eaves, ringing the doorbell.
The door swung open almost instantly, revealing a kind woman in an apron.
“Oh my, Alden, you’re back! Is it cold outside?” she inquired, her voice filled with warmth.
“Not too cold, thank you, Aunt Matilda,” Alden replied, feeling a bit taken aback by her enthusiasm as he lowered his head.
Aunt Matilda had been the Goldwyn Family’s housekeeper for years, an excellent cook, and notably absent during the incident that led to the family's downfall, so she had avoided being dismissed along with them.
Noticing Alden still standing in the doorway, Aunt Matilda wiped her hands on her apron and took his icy hand, leading him inside.
“Goodness, your hands are freezing! Come in and warm up.”
Just as they stepped out of the foyer, a voice called from inside.
“Aunt Matilda, the soup is still simmering; can you keep an eye on it? I’ll chat with Alden for a bit.”
A woman emerged from the kitchen, dressed elegantly yet casually, her hair styled in a lovely updo—she appeared hardly the type to spend time with pots and pans.
“...Mother.”

Chapter 2

Aunt Matilda received Lady Beatrice Blackwood's urgent message and hurried back to the kitchen, leaving Alden Blackwood to feel the chill in the air creep back into his fingers without her warm grip to anchor him.
“Honestly, Alden,” Lady Beatrice said, her brows furrowing as she scanned her son up and down, “why do you let your hair grow so long? You look ridiculous.”
He pursed his lips, choosing silence over a snappy retort.
Lady Beatrice ignored his lack of response and, after scolding him a few more times, ushered him into the spacious dressing room. She began rifling through the wardrobe, pulling out several new outfits with an excited flair.
“I bought you some new clothes! Come look!”
It felt as if they were playing a game of dress-up, and Alden stood there, cheeks burning, as Lady Beatrice insisted he try each piece on.
After several attempts, where most items ended up either fitting poorly or looking shabby, she finally found one that was acceptable—and promptly discarded a tattered black down jacket onto the floor.
Alden glanced back at the crumpled old jacket. Though it was dull and nowhere near as stylish as the new one now draped over his shoulders, he felt an unnameable reluctance to throw it away.
Sensing his hesitation, Lady Beatrice sighed, her face momentarily shadowed by sadness. “It’s been two years since I last saw you. You’ve grown so tall.”
The sudden tenderness from his mother caught him off guard. He bit his lower lip, refusing to meet her gaze. “Mom, if there’s something you want to say, just say it.”
Her smile faltered, and she feigned indignation. “What’s wrong with showing concern for my son?”
He fell silent, weighing her words against his mother’s unusually composed demeanor, her dark eyes glaring back at him with a hint of insincerity.
“It’s nothing, really. I just thought I’d have you home for a few days with New Year’s coming up. I’ve missed you,” she said, her forced cheerfulness distracting her as she turned to straighten up the clutter she had created.
“The Goldwyns probably don’t want me around,” Alden said bluntly, calling out the lie she was trying to sell him.
“Besides, this isn’t my home.”
This was unlike Alden. He usually accepted things with a quiet nod, but when it came to Lady Beatrice, the only blood relative he had, he found it impossible to stay silent.
With her back turned, Lady Beatrice stilled, her movements halting before she sank onto the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumping as if defeated.
Alden had intended to stay out of it, but seeing her tear-filled eyes unsettled him. “What’s wrong?”
She took the tissue he offered, dabbing at her cheeks until only the red splotches remained.
Alden looked at her, barely able to recognize the woman who once commanded attention in every room. Though still striking, her years of depending on men had taught her to wear her vulnerability like armor.
“Alden, did you know about the marriage agreement between the Everhart Clan and the Goldwyns?”
“No,” he replied. He had only spent a few months with the Goldwyns; how would he have known?
Lady Beatrice cleared her throat, feeling awkward. “Originally, the agreement was supposed to be between Master Julian Everhart and Sylvia Goldwyn. But Sylvia, as you might guess, is quite headstrong and refuses to marry just anyone.”
Alden listened quietly, not yet understanding how this tied to him.
“The Goldwyns didn’t want to end the engagement, so…” She hesitated, searching his face for understanding.
“Are you saying you want me to marry Master Julian?” Alden’s voice was flat, tinged with disbelief.
He wasn’t naive; the implications of her words were crystal clear. To them, he was just a pawn—a nominal member of the Goldwyns expected to fulfill an obligation he never sought.
“I refuse,” he stated firmly.
The plea in Lady Beatrice's eyes was palpable, but Alden felt an inexplicable helplessness. This decision shouldn’t be made without his consent. Did Master Julian want a partner like him? Even if he were open to the switch, would he want to trade a woman for a man?
Alden pulled off the warm clothing once more, bending down to reclaim his old jacket. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.”
He had hoped Lady Beatrice had changed, perhaps understanding that the high-society life was not quite the bliss it was made out to be. Instead, he realized she merely wanted him to step into the shoes of Sylvia Goldwyn as part of some archaic arrangement.
As he turned toward the door, he forced a smile that fell flat.
Before he could exit, Lady Beatrice caught his arm, her grip intense.
“Alden. Please. Help your mother. Only you can save me.”
Desperation edged her voice, the tears spilling over her cheeks.
“Alden, just consider this a plea from your mother. Help me just this once!”
She nearly dropped to her knees in front of him, raw emotion spilling forth.
Alden instinctively jerked back, but she gripped him tighter. “What do the Goldwyns have to do with you? Even if they don’t want me, I can take care of you now. I’m of age.”
Lady Beatrice shook her head, tears cascading down her face as a bitter expression fluctuated over her features. “You don’t understand.”
Alden turned, not wanting to engage further.
But he halted when her next words caught him off guard. “I’m pregnant.”
He spun back around, shock coursing through him.

Chapter 3

Tears streamed down Beatrice Blackwood's face as she wiped her eyes with one hand, while the other clutched her abdomen protectively.
"The Goldwyn family said that if you agree to this marriage, they'll let me have this baby," she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Alden, I can’t bear the thought of life without this child. He is my future."
Lady Beatrice, with her makeup smeared from crying, was far from the picture of elegance, but this time her anguish felt genuine.
Alden Blackwood stood still, his long bangs draping over his forehead, obscuring his expression.
"And what about me?"
His voice was barely a whisper, yet clear enough for Lady Beatrice to catch every word. She turned away, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Alden, I don’t want to live through those difficult days anymore…”
"Life with the Goldwyns hasn’t been easy. Without a child of my own, I won’t have a place to stand in the future.”
“Besides, Lord Cedric Goldwyn promised that if you marry him, we’d get a 1% share of the Goldwyn family fortune.”
Yes, Beatrice’s current lifestyle was something that Alden Blackwood could never provide—not in his wildest dreams. Exotic cars parked in the driveway, a sprawling villa, chauffeurs at her command, luxurious goods at her fingertips. She could indulge in beauty treatments, all while needing only to smile at her husband.
He was a burden, a liability, whereas that child growing inside her was a golden ticket.
The thought of it stung Alden. A baby could guarantee his mother a life of comfort, while he could only bring her instability.
In the suffocating silence, he opened his mouth to voice his thoughts, but the words remained trapped.
"Alden, I’m not asking for you to excel, just give me this one chance. It’s for both our sakes. You wouldn’t have to struggle anymore. You’d be able to rely on the Everhart heir and enjoy a good life, while I'd have my own footing in the Goldwyn family."
He bit his lip, gazing at the pleading expression on his mother's face.
He couldn’t bring himself to say “I agree.”
He simply didn’t want to sacrifice his life like that.
They remained locked in silence until Lady Beatrice managed to compose herself, rising from the chair and dabbing her eyes dry with a tissue.
"You don’t have to decide right now. It's New Year’s Eve; let's just enjoy the holidays together."
Noticing Alden still rooted to the spot, Beatrice gently nudged him while handing him a set of new clothes she had picked out for him.
"Selwyn Goldwyn isn’t around, so you don’t have to worry about running into him."
At the mention of that name, Alden's heart raced, and he instinctively stepped back, even shying away from his own mother’s touch.
Lady Beatrice felt an awkward tension; she sensed Alden's unease surrounding Selwyn Goldwyn.
Chiding herself for bringing it up, she hurried to clarify, "Just stay for a few days, okay? Just to keep me company."
“It’s been two years since I last saw you.”
The tears threatened to fall again as Lady Beatrice spoke, and Alden found it impossible to say no.
After all, she was the only family he had.
As they descended the stairs, a festive spread awaited them at the dining table, but Aunt Matilda had already left to celebrate elsewhere.
Brushing off the traces of her earlier tears, Beatrice put on a flawless layer of makeup. She glanced at the dishes laid out, noticing a missing soup, and started to head toward the kitchen. Alden interjected.
“I’ll get it.”
He stole a look at his mother’s belly, and she immediately understood his unspoken message, awkwardly retracting her hand.
The freshly made soup sat on the kitchen counter, and Alden took it upon himself to serve it. As he approached the stairway, a sudden shove came from behind, causing him to lose his grip on the bowl. The hot soup spilled out in a mess.
Before he could even process who had pushed him, a mocking voice echoed behind him.
"Hey, new maid? Why are you so clumsy? It’s not a big deal that you spilled the soup, but can you pay to fix this imported carpet from the UK?”
The sarcastic remark came from a girl, whose tone was laced with arrogance, openly expressing her disdain.
"Sylvia Goldwyn."
Before Alden could respond, a voice, neither gentle nor harsh, called out for Sylvia. It was his stepfather, Lord Cedric Goldwyn.
Turning reluctantly, Alden muttered, “Hello, Uncle.”
But Lord Cedric didn't acknowledge him, directing his attention to Sylvia instead.
"That’s your Aunt Lin’s son."
Sylvia seemed to only just recognize him, a gasp escaping her lips.
“Oh! It’s you! With that wild hair, I thought you were some country bumpkin who didn’t know manners."
She added, smirking, "But then again, it makes sense. Your mom’s quite a piece of work.”
Lord Cedric didn’t intervene in the jeer aimed at Alden, prompting him to feel even more isolated.
"Sylvia, dinner's ready," called Lord Cedric again.
With a haughty sniff, Sylvia shot Alden a contemptuous glance, pointing at the mess on the floor, commanded, “Clean that up.”
Avoiding her glare, Alden turned away. Though his hair was long, it wasn't long enough to obscure his gender, yet her ridicule was deliberate.
Lady Beatrice shot Alden a worried glance, then looked back at Cedric for reassurance. Seeing he was unperturbed, she dashed over to Alden.
"How many times have I told you to be careful? Just go back to the kitchen and serve another bowl. I’ll clean this up."
“Mom, let me handle it. You go serve the soup,” Alden insisted, surveying the steaming remnants on the floor. The bowl lay shattered, its jagged edges glimmering dangerously amidst a puddle of broth.

Chapter 4

Alden Blackwood had a choice to ignore it all, but his mother couldn’t do the same.
After all, they were still living under someone else’s roof.
"Lady Beatrice, come join us for dinner," Lord Cedric Goldwyn called out, his voice echoing in the spacious Goldwyn Manor, as if Alden’s presence didn’t matter at all.
Sylvia Goldwyn chuckled softly, her arms crossed as she leisurely sat down to eat.
While Alden Blackwood had no insight into how Lord Cedric and Sylvia enjoyed their meal, Lady Beatrice fidgeted nervously, glancing his way with deep concern but too timid to acknowledge it directly under Cedric's watch.
Alden didn’t hasten his pace due to his mother’s worried glances. He took his time cleaning up the scraps left over, nearly consuming the entire meal duration.
This was deliberate.
He could sense Sylvia’s dislike for him. He had no doubt that after dinner, if Sylvia was in a foul mood, he would become her target for frustration.
Better to steer clear of the potential conflict.
Alden had learned long ago how to minimize these clashes; he was always the one to suffer.
Once Lord Cedric and Sylvia finished eating, they both retreated upstairs.
With the two gone, Lady Beatrice approached Alden to warm up his food.
Alden shook his head and silently resumed eating a few cold bites, ending it there.
Later that evening, Alden found himself alone in a guest room, enveloped by a strange sense of isolation. This room felt alien, just as Goldwyn Manor did—a barrier between him and the world.
Three years prior, he had relocated to Goldwyn House with his mother after her remarriage, spending six anxious months there before finding refuge at the Boarding Academy.
Lord Cedric’s first wife had passed away long ago, and the marriage to Lady Beatrice came years later.
Alden was aware that before marrying Cedric, his mother had been involved with him for a time. It was the only choice she felt she had after Alden’s father had died, leaving their world in ruins.
Lady Beatrice had once been cared for by Alden’s father, but after his death, it was as if the ground beneath them had crumbled away. With no means to sustain herself and Alden, she chose this route.
Alden gazed at the unlit room, the only beacon of light being the moon spilling through the large window.
At that moment, he shivered slightly, his fingers instinctively clenching the edge of his shirt.
Selwyn Goldwyn wasn’t here anymore…
Selwyn Goldwyn wasn’t here…
He chanted in his mind, but flashes of memories from that chaotic and embarrassing night flooded back, a wave of helplessness washing over him.
“Knock knock.”
The sudden sound of a knock interrupted Alden's spiraling thoughts. He whipped around to face the door, heart racing, lips trembling like a bird caught in a trap.
The knocker waited a moment, but there was no response.
He recalled locking the door after entering and felt slightly reassured—but then he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Quickly, the doorknob twisted as he expected.
Please don’t come in.
He silently urged.
But the door opened, revealing not who he had imagined, but Lady Beatrice instead.
Clad in a loose nightgown, her makeup gone, she looked softer, gentler.
"Why is it so dark in here?" Lady Beatrice asked, balancing a cup in one hand and reaching for the light switch with the other. "I noticed you hardly ate anything for dinner, so I brought you some warm milk."
"…Thanks, Mom."
It took Alden a while to recover from his surprise before he grasped the cup she offered him.
"Is something wrong? You’re sweating."
As the lights flickered on, Lady Beatrice instantly noticed his distress.
Although Alden’s long bangs covered much of his face, the beads of sweat on his forehead were visible.
"It’s nothing."
He evaded her touch, offering a brief explanation.
"It’s a bit warm in here."
Lady Beatrice sighed as she settled beside him.
"Alden, don’t act so distant with me."
He remained silent, eyes fixed on the cup of milk in his hands.
"Do you remember that one year during the Spring Festival when I didn’t come home?"
"At that time, we didn’t have money, and we were deep in debt. I had to work. I spent New Year’s Eve washing dishes in a kitchen."
"Very few people wanted to work during the New Year, so I could earn more that night."
Alden tightened his grip on the cup.
He remembered all too well.
They couldn’t afford new year’s goods, not even a meal of dumplings.
Outside, the snow fell heavily as he searched for his mother, unable to find her. He fell and scraped his knee but didn’t have the courage to tell her.
When Lady Beatrice returned the next day, they finally shared a warm plate of dumplings.
He remembered her frostbitten hands as she held him close, crying and lamenting not being able to provide him with a better life.
"You were always so sensible as a child, helping to ease the burdens at home. I have always been so grateful for you, my son."
"Bringing you to Goldwyn House was meant to give you a better life. I know you’ve faced some challenges here, but please forgive me; I can’t help you in the way that I wish."
"Even I lack a voice here in Goldwyn House."
Lady Beatrice's voice trembled as unshed tears pooled in her eyes.
Alden’s gaze shifted, resting on the wooden floor where moonlight had recently fallen.
In that moment, the room was brightly lit, the soft glow of moonlight now overwhelmed.
"About what I mentioned earlier... please think it over."
"The Everhart Clan is a prestigious family. Young Mr. Julian has no adult supervision in his house. You wouldn’t suffer there."
"Do this for me, and consider your future sibling. One day, they may become your support."
Hearing his mother bring it up again was like digging a knife into an already tender wound.
He couldn’t help but remind her:
"I’m still a student."
Even as an adult, he felt like he was still a student.
"It’s okay; you can get engaged first, just to ease into things."

Chapter 5

Alden Blackwood listened to his mother's rapid-fire responses, blinking several times as he felt his gaze waver.
“I’m feeling a bit overheated, I need to wash my face.”
Unable to endure the conversation any longer, Alden sprang to his feet, leaving in a rush and dashed into the bathroom.
Once inside, he locked the door behind him, leaning against it as he gulped down deep breaths.
The bright light from the overhead chandelier was almost blinding, forcing Alden to squint.
It was truly despairing.
Alden suddenly felt a wave of laughter bubble up within him, and he let out a silent chuckle.
He shouldn’t have expected anything.
Hoping for even a flicker of maternal affection from his last living relative felt naive.
But gradually, that smile faded, and Alden brushed his hair back, tucking his longer bangs behind his ears, revealing a striking face that was a testament to his mother’s beauty.
Staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink, Alden felt a familiar sense of emptiness wash over him, mingled with a touch of disgust.
This face, while undeniably handsome—masculine yet delicate—had caused him countless problems, forcing him to hide behind his unmanageable locks.
In the mirror, Alden's icy expression reflected the inner turmoil he felt. His lips were pressed together, void of emotion.
After a long while, strands of hair slipped from his forehead, cascading back over his face.
Alden splashed water on his face, the cool droplets inevitably clinging to his hair.
They trickled down his neck, the chill saturating his collar, a sensation not unlike the one he felt when confronted with his mother’s demands.
Alden stepped out, finding Lady Beatrice Blackwood still seated where he had left her.
When she noticed him, Lady Beatrice stood up, her expression mixed with concern.
“Why did you take so long? You had me worried!”
“I simply washed my face, Mom. What was there to worry about?”
Lady Beatrice paused, sensing something subtle yet unsettling about him; he seemed different, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint how.
With a soft smile, she took a step forward, but Alden interrupted her.
“I want my share—1% of the House of Goldwyn.”
At those words, the smile abruptly froze on Lady Beatrice's face.
“Why do you bring this up so suddenly?”
With an understanding that felt almost predatory, Alden challenged her, “That 1% share you’re referring to isn't just for me; it’s for the child you’re carrying, isn’t it?”
There was absolutely no way Lord Cedric Goldwyn would give something so significant to a stranger. It was an obligation he had given to Lady Beatrice, practically promising it to their unborn child instead.
Yet Lady Beatrice had intended to use it as leverage over Alden.
Caught off guard by his boldness, she gave a strained chuckle, her tone faltering, “Giving it to your brother means it’s just as good for you…”
Alden shot her a steely gaze, sensing the naïveté of her words.
Even Lady Beatrice herself likely had doubts about that, as her voice trailed off, leaving her expression uncertain as she regarded him.
“I only have this one request, and I trust you can meet it.”
His resolve was unwavering, his eyes behind his bangs as detached as if he were negotiating with someone else’s life in mind, not his own.
“You can think it over. I can wait.”
Alden felt an overwhelming fatigue since stepping into the House of Goldwyn, his heart weary to a point where he loathed the idea of dealing with Lady Beatrice any longer.
Lady Beatrice paused, lost in thought as she made her way towards the door.
As she reached for the handle, she stopped, turning back to Alden.
“Fine, but you’ll have to give me time to figure things out.”
Her concession did little to lift his spirits.
Lying in bed later, Alden stared up at the ceiling, his eyelids heavy with the weight of sleeplessness.
Eventually, he closed his eyes, and it felt like he drifted off.
With this deal settled, he wondered how Lady Beatrice would explain it all to Lord Cedric. Surprisingly, Lord Cedric had even glanced at him during breakfast.
“His hair is too long. Take him to get it cut later.”
Lord Cedric’s words carried the weight of command for Lady Beatrice, and right after lunch, she took Alden to a shop she frequented.
Alden had no objections, going along with Lady Beatrice’s plans, almost as if he hadn’t been the one making demands just the night before.
The stylist, a familiar face to Lady Beatrice, greeted Alden warmly and presented several stylish options.
Lady Beatrice watched her son, who sat motionless in the chair, exuding an aura of indifference.
“Just a simple trim, something fresh would be nice.”
Such vague requests often led to misunderstandings, yet the stylist paused only briefly before expertly dampening Alden’s hair.
As his locks gradually fell away, Alden’s face emerged, sharing a striking resemblance with Lady Beatrice.
“Madam Judith, your son is incredibly handsome; he’s certainly inherited your features,” the stylist remarked, unable to contain the praise, even though Alden offered no reaction.
Lady Beatrice smiled proudly but glanced into the mirror, a look of wistfulness crossing her features.
The stylist felt that whatever haircut he fashioned now was somewhat irrelevant; with a face like that, even a buzz cut would look wonderfully refreshing.
However, adhering to his professionalism, he focused intently, eventually creating a clean yet elegant look for Alden.
With Lady Beatrice stepping outside, the stylist ventured, “Alden, what do you think of this?”
“I’m not a Goldwyn.”
Startled by Alden’s unexpected retort, the stylist felt the air thicken with awkwardness.
Yet Alden didn’t elaborate, simply nodding his approval.
The stylist sighed with relief, reassured that at least Alden found his new look acceptable.
Having served the elite women for so long, he’d learned not to pry into their affairs, but still, he noted Alden’s quiet rebellion in the back of his mind.

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