Chapter 18: Back To Perfection

The quiet stillness of the Vaelis mansion was suffocating.

Dorian sat in the corner of his room, the large windows casting soft streams of light across the polished floors, but the warm sunlight did nothing to ease the tension that coiled tightly in his chest. His hands rested idly in his lap, the weight of his phone noticeable by its absence. He hadn't been allowed to touch it since the day he was discharged from the hospital—his parents' orders.

Everything had been strictly controlled since then.

The past few days at home had been a blur of recovery and intense scrutiny. Eryx and Cassandra had watched over him like hawks, their expectations weighing heavily in the air as they made sure every aspect of his recovery was monitored. The suppressants had finally settled into his system, dulling the edges of his instincts and pulling him back from the chaotic intensity of his rut, but the physical recovery had been the easy part.

It was the emotional aftermath that left Dorian feeling hollow.

His parents had wasted no time in drilling him back into their routine of perfection. Every day since returning home, he had been subjected to strict schedules, rigorous lessons, and thinly veiled lectures about control. Control over himself, over his instincts, over everything that had led to what they clearly saw as a failure.

"You lost control," Eryx had said just that morning, his voice cool and disapproving. "We cannot afford to let that happen again."

The words had cut deep, but Dorian had nodded, biting back the urge to argue. It wasn't as if he didn't know what was expected of him—he had lived his entire life under the weight of his parents' expectations. But something had shifted inside him during those days in the forest. Something he couldn't quite explain.

And Rhys...

Dorian's mind drifted back to the Omega. He hadn't heard a word from him since the hospital. There had been no texts, no calls. He couldn't even check in on him, because his parents had confiscated his phone, telling him that "distractions" were the last thing he needed.

But Rhys had been more than a distraction. He had been there when Dorian needed him most. He had been the steady presence, the voice that had pulled Dorian back when the storm of his rut had threatened to consume him. And now, he had no idea what had happened to him—if he was okay, if he had gone home, if he was thinking about Dorian too.

The thought made Dorian's chest tighten with frustration. He had always known that his parents had a tight grip on his life, but now it felt like they were suffocating him, closing off every outlet, every connection to the outside world that didn't fit into their carefully crafted image of who he was supposed to be.

"Dorian," Came his mother's sharp voice from outside the door, pulling him from his thoughts.

He straightened automatically, his body reacting out of habit, before the door swung open and Cassandra Vaelis stepped inside. She looked as composed as always, her dark amber eyes scanning the room with the precision of someone who missed nothing.

"It's time for your session with the tutor," She said, her voice smooth but with an undertone of control that Dorian had become all too familiar with. "Your father expects a report on your progress later this evening."

Dorian nodded, rising from his seat as he fought back the wave of irritation that threatened to bubble to the surface. He had been doing everything they asked of him—he always had—but somehow, it never felt like enough. They always wanted more. Always demanded perfection.

But even as he moved toward the door, his mind was elsewhere.

Rhys.

He didn't know why, but something about the way Rhys had looked at him—so openly, so honestly—had stuck with him. It had made him feel... real, in a way that nothing else did. And now, with his phone locked away and his parents watching his every move, the silence between them felt unbearable.

"I'll be there in a moment," Dorian said quietly, glancing at his mother.

Cassandra gave him a long, assessing look, her amber eyes narrowing slightly as if she could sense the shift in his mood. But she said nothing, simply giving a curt nod before turning and walking out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Dorian let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His gaze drifted toward the window, the soft light casting shadows across the room, and for the first time in days, he felt the overwhelming weight of it all pressing down on him.

He couldn't keep living like this. The perfection they demanded, the endless control—it was strangling him.

His mind drifted again to Rhys, the memory of the Omega's easy smile and unflinching honesty. The way Rhys had looked at him with no expectation, no judgment.

Dorian's fists clenched at his sides, the frustration bubbling up inside him once more. He wanted to reach out, to talk to Rhys, to find some sense of normalcy in this whirlwind of pressure and control. But for now, that was impossible.

As he turned to head out of his room for yet another session of his carefully controlled life, one thought lingered in his mind, pulling at him with every step he took.

What if Rhys never stopped thinking about him, too?

_

The heavy scent of polished wood and old leather filled the air in Eryx Vaelis' study, a place that always felt more like a command center than a room meant for relaxation. The large mahogany desk dominated the space, papers neatly organized in precise piles, while the walls were lined with shelves filled with books on business, strategy, and leadership. It was here that Dorian found himself standing, his hands clasped behind his back, speaking in careful, measured tones as he recited the information his father expected him to know.

"The fluctuation in market shares is largely due to the instability in the overseas markets," Dorian explained, his voice steady but his chest tight with the weight of Eryx's scrutiny. "If we move our assets now, we can leverage the dip to our advantage."

Eryx sat behind his desk, his cold blue eyes never leaving Dorian's face, watching his every movement, every word. His expression was unreadable, but Dorian could feel the silent judgment in the air. His father expected nothing less than perfection—anything less, and he would hear about it later.

"Go on," Eryx said, his voice low but commanding.

Dorian took a deep breath, continuing with the detailed analysis of the business world he had been taught since he was a child. The words felt hollow on his tongue, as if he were reciting lines from a script rather than speaking his own thoughts. But this was what his father wanted, and Dorian had long since learned that there was no room for personal feelings in these discussions.

Just as Dorian was about to finish his analysis, the door to the study opened with a soft click, drawing both of their attention.

Cassandra Vaelis entered, her dark amber eyes sharp as always, though there was a faint smile on her lips that immediately put Dorian on edge. His mother didn't smile like that unless she had something planned—something that would change the course of his day.

"Eryx," Cassandra said smoothly, stepping further into the room. "I thought this would be the perfect time to introduce Lila."

Dorian's stomach tightened at the sound of her name.

From behind Cassandra stepped a girl—no, an Alpha—who couldn't have been more than sixteen, just a year younger than Dorian. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, with long dark hair that cascaded down her back in neat, glossy waves. Her skin was fair, almost porcelain, and her features were delicate but cold, like they had been carved from marble.

But it was her eyes that made Dorian's heart skip a beat.

They were the same shade of gray that had haunted his thoughts for days. The same eyes that had looked at him with mischief, with warmth, with genuine feeling.

But these eyes... these eyes were nothing like Rhys'.

Where Rhys' eyes had been bright, full of life and rebellion, Lila's were cold and flat, as if they were empty. There was no spark, no warmth—just a lifeless, robotic quality that sent a chill down Dorian's spine.

"Dorian," Cassandra said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "This is Lila Andros, your future fiancée."

The word fiancée hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck.

Lila gave a slight nod, her expression perfectly neutral, but there was something off about the way she moved—mechanical, precise, as if every gesture had been rehearsed a thousand times. She stepped forward, her gaze flicking toward Dorian with no emotion, no curiosity. Just a cold, polite acknowledgment.

Dorian's mind spun, trying to process what was happening. He had known for years that his parents would arrange his future marriage—it was practically a given in families like theirs. But to see her now, standing in front of him, was something else entirely.

She was beautiful, yes, but in the same way a statue was beautiful. Perfectly crafted, but hollow inside.

"Lila," Eryx said, his voice as cold and commanding as ever, "Has been raised to understand the responsibilities that come with our world. Like you, she comes from a strong lineage."

Cassandra stepped closer to Dorian, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder as if to guide him. "Her parents passed away when she was twelve, and she has been raised by her aunt, who shares our values. We thought this was the perfect time for you both to start becoming familiar with each other."

Familiar.

The word tasted bitter in Dorian's mouth. His gaze flicked back to Lila, who stood there without a hint of emotion on her face, as if this entire conversation didn't affect her at all. Her posture was perfect, her expression unreadable, and for all intents and purposes, she looked like the ideal Alpha match for someone of his status.

But to Dorian, she felt... wrong. So wrong.

"Pleased to meet you," Lila said in a flat, polite tone, her voice as lifeless as her eyes. It was clear she wasn't here by choice either.

Dorian swallowed hard, forcing himself to respond. "Likewise."

For a moment, the room felt too small, too suffocating, with the weight of his parents' expectations pressing down on him from every side. His father's cold gaze, his mother's controlling hand, and Lila's robotic presence—it all felt like a cage closing in around him.

"Lila has already proven herself capable of managing family interests," Cassandra continued, her voice filled with satisfaction. "She is an excellent match for our family."

Dorian's chest tightened as he tried to maintain his composure. He had learned to play this game for years—to be the perfect son, the perfect Alpha—but now, standing in front of the girl who was supposed to be his future, he felt more trapped than ever.

"I'm sure we'll... get to know each other," Dorian said quietly, though the words felt like they were being forced from his throat.

Lila didn't respond, merely offering a small, stiff nod, her gray eyes staring at him with no recognition, no spark of connection.

Dorian couldn't help it—his mind drifted to Rhys. The thought of him made his chest ache with something raw and unspoken. Rhys, with his rebellious nature, his fire, his life. Everything about him had felt real. And now, standing in front of Lila, who was everything his parents wanted for him, Dorian felt the sharp contrast like a wound reopening.

"Dorian," Eryx said, his voice breaking through Dorian's thoughts. "You'll be spending more time with Lila in the coming weeks. I expect you to treat this engagement with the seriousness it deserves."

The command in his father's voice left no room for argument.

Dorian nodded stiffly, his throat tight as the weight of the future his parents had planned for him settled like lead in his chest.

"Yes, Father," He said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

As he stood there, watching his parents discuss the next steps of his life, Dorian felt something inside him begin to fracture. And in that moment, all he could think about was how much he wanted to break free.

_

The Vaelis family garden was a masterpiece of careful cultivation, each plant and flower meticulously placed to create an air of serenity and control. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the pathways, and delicate blossoms added splashes of color amid the greenery. It was supposed to feel peaceful, but today it felt like a prison.

Dorian walked beside Lila, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as they moved in silence. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the garden, but the silence between them was heavy, almost suffocating. Every step they took felt like a carefully rehearsed performance—something neither of them wanted, but both were obligated to participate in.

Lila walked with perfect posture, her expression neutral, her gray eyes staring ahead as if the world around them held no interest for her. There was no warmth, no spark of life in her gaze, and Dorian found himself struggling to figure out what to say. He had never been good at forced conversation, and this—walking with the girl who was supposed to be his fiancée—felt more awkward than he could have imagined.

For a moment, Dorian's mind drifted to Rhys, and a pang of longing shot through him. With Rhys, conversation had flowed naturally, even when they were arguing. There had been something real between them, something electric and alive. But now, standing beside Lila, everything felt hollow.

He cleared his throat, his eyes flicking over to her as they walked. "So," He began, trying to keep his voice casual, "I don't think we've had much of a chance to talk. I thought it might be nice to get to know each other a bit."

Lila glanced at him briefly, her expression unchanged, though there was a faint flicker of something in her eyes. "I suppose that's what we're expected to do," She said quietly, her voice polite but distant.

Dorian swallowed hard, feeling the tension between them growing thicker with every passing second. He knew this was just as awkward for her as it was for him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeper behind her detached demeanor.

"What... what do you like to do?" Dorian asked, trying to find some common ground. "Outside of all this, I mean."

Lila's gaze shifted slightly, her eyes flicking toward the flowers as if she were searching for an answer. For a long moment, she said nothing, and Dorian began to wonder if she would ever respond.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but carrying a weight that surprised him. "It doesn't really matter, does it?"

Dorian blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of her words. "What do you mean?"

Lila sighed softly, her hands clasped in front of her as she walked. "Whatever I want or enjoy isn't really important in the grand scheme of things. My life is already set. My future... everything has already been decided."

The words hit Dorian harder than he expected. There was a coldness to them, but also a deep sense of resignation that made his chest tighten. He had heard similar words from his parents all his life—that his future had been planned, that everything he did was in service to their legacy—but hearing it from someone else made it feel even more suffocating.

"I know what you mean," Dorian said quietly, his voice softer now.

Lila glanced at him, her gray eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to read him. "Do you?"

Dorian hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. His parents had always drilled into him the importance of control, of keeping his emotions in check. But something about Lila's quiet resignation made him want to be honest, at least for a moment.

"Yeah," He said finally, his voice low. "I mean, my parents have had everything planned out for me since I was born. What I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to act. Even who I'm supposed to be with." He gave her a small, wry smile. "Guess that's where you come in."

Lila didn't smile, but there was a faint flicker of something in her eyes—something that told Dorian she understood exactly what he was talking about.

"I lost my parents when I was twelve," Lila said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "My aunt raised me after that. She... she means well, I suppose. But everything I've done since then has been for them. For my family's legacy."

Dorian's heart ached at her words. He hadn't known about her parents, hadn't realized that she, too, had been molded into something she never asked for. The more she spoke, the more he realized that her life mirrored his own in ways he hadn't expected.

"I'm sorry," Dorian said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

Lila's gaze shifted, her eyes locking onto his for a brief moment before she looked away again. "It is what it is. I've accepted it. But... sometimes I wonder if there's more. If there's a part of me that's been lost in all of this."

The words sent a shiver down Dorian's spine. He had wondered the same thing for years—if the person he was supposed to be had been buried beneath the expectations and demands of his parents. And now, standing beside Lila, he realized that she, too, was living the same carefully crafted lie.

But where he had felt anger and frustration, Lila seemed to have resigned herself to it. She had accepted her role, her fate, in a way that made Dorian's stomach churn.

"I think we all lose parts of ourselves," Dorian said softly, his voice barely audible. "But that doesn't mean we can't find them again."

Lila didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the flowers ahead of them, her expression unreadable. The silence between them grew heavy again, but this time it wasn't the awkward, uncomfortable silence from before. It was something deeper—something filled with the weight of their shared experience.

As they continued to walk through the garden, Dorian couldn't help but feel a strange sense of understanding between them. They were both trapped in the same world, the same expectations, and yet they were nothing alike. Lila had chosen to accept her fate, to live within the confines of the life her family had built for her. But Dorian...

Dorian wasn't sure how much longer he could keep pretending.