Nightow_l

Seraphina Vale has always lived in a world of elegance, where fabric weaves stories and beauty is her silent armor. As the face of her mother’s renowned fashion empire, she walks the runway with grace, but off-stage, she’s the quiet storm—reserved, untouchable, and calculating.

Her twin brother, Caelum, is her opposite—a scheming charmer with a heart too big for his own good. And then there’s Isolde, the warm yet enigmatic girl who has been part of their family for as long as memory serves. Caelum adores her. Seraphina trusts her. But love and trust are fickle things.

Enter Lucian Drax—the cold, infuriatingly charming heir to the wealthiest family in Velmoria. Once the golden boy of the city, he vanished without a trace, only to return years later with an unreadable gaze and a past he won’t speak of. To the world, he is untouchable. To Seraphina, he is the one mistake she never saw coming.

A single night. A tangled fate. A secret neither of them is ready to face.

Neither Lucian nor Seraphina remember much about the night they spent together—except for one detail, a clue that only he knows. It lingers in his mind, an unsolved mystery, whispering a question he cannot ignore: Could the woman he shared that fateful night with be the very same girl he once thought was an unreachable star?

In a world of whispered scandals, stolen glances, and the kind of love that burns slow but deep—Seraphina and Lucian find themselves in a dance of fate neither of them can escape.

Because some echoes refuse to be silenced.
And the past never truly stays forgotten.

Echoes of the unforgotten

The bar pulsed with energy, a world away from the refined elegance of the Vale estate. Neon lights cast a sultry glow over the crowd, bodies swayed to the rhythm of deep bass beats, and the air was thick with the scent of liquor and temptation.

Seraphina Vale sat in a secluded booth, fingers tracing the rim of her untouched glass. She had not wanted to come, but Astrid had insisted, whispering about how the real fun had just begun.

"This," Astrid drawled, draping an arm around Seraphina's shoulders, "is the part of the night you'll actually remember. Or won't." She giggled, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Seraphina merely sighed. "I'd rather be home."

"Don't be such a bore," Astrid pouted. "We're celebrating. You don't turn twenty every day, do you?"

Isolde, who had taken a seat beside Seraphina, narrowed her eyes at Astrid. "We already celebrated. This is just an excuse to get wasted."

Astrid smirked. "And? Isn't that the point?"

Unbeknownst to Seraphina, Astrid's plan extended beyond just a night of drinking. She had invited a group of men—sleek, charming, and utterly dangerous in their hunger for conquest. Among them was one who had caught Astrid's eye for this very purpose—a predator draped in charm, with a taste for breaking the untouchable.

Astrid leaned into him now, whispering against his ear. "She's a princess," she murmured. "Make her fall. Hard."

Meanwhile, across the bar, Lucian Drax lifted a glass to his lips, drowning in the cheers of his old friends.

"To Lucian!" one of them bellowed, slamming his own drink down. "Finally back from exile!"

Lucian smirked, his cold gaze scanning the room. "It wasn't exile," he corrected. "It was necessary."

"Oh, please." Another friend laughed, clapping Lucian on the back. "Whatever you call it, we call it you vanishing and becoming a ghost. We've missed you, man."

Lucian merely lifted his glass, though his mind was elsewhere. His return to Velmoria had been uneventful so far, but something in his bones told him that was about to change.

"You're too serious," one of his friends grumbled. "You can't keep living like this, hung up on a girl from the past. We've arranged something for you tonight."

Lucian arched a brow. "I don't need 'something.'"

"Oh, you will." A drink was pushed toward him. "Have a few more of these, and you won't even remember why you're resisting."

He sighed but lifted the glass. "Fine. One more."

Back at Seraphina's table, Astrid was all but shoving drinks into her hands. "Just one," she cajoled. "Loosen up, Sera. We're here to have fun."

Seraphina hesitated. Isolde's gaze burned into Astrid with suspicion, but Astrid's charm was like a snake's lullaby, enticing even when dangerous.

The night was young, and fate had begun to weave its threads tighter.

And in the neon-lit haze of the bar, two paths were set to collide—one unsuspecting, the other inevitable.

Shadows in the Night