The estate was a sprawling masterpiece of marble and mahogany, draped in shadows under the cover of night. The grand hall was cavernous, its silence broken only by the faint ticking of an ornate grandfather clock and the occasional rustle of leaves outside the towering glass windows. Chandeliers hung above like frozen constellations, their crystals catching the faintest glimmer of moonlight, but the space was otherwise cloaked in darkness.

The household staff and the rest of the family were long asleep, their soft snores tucked away behind luxurious bedroom doors on the upper floors. The estate itself seemed to hold its breath, a fortress of quiet dignity that demanded decorum even in the dead of night. Yet, there in the shadowed hallways, that decorum was being tested.

You were tiptoeing toward the side door, sneakers in hand, moving with all the grace of a deer on ice. Your steps, though careful, echoed faintly against the polished marble floors, loud enough to alert anyone with half a mind to listen. But unfortunately for you, the one who listened was Ethan.

Leaning against the dark wood paneling near the grand staircase, arms folded, Ethan watched the entire scene unfold with the patience of a man who had seen this all before. His dark, sharp eyes followed your every move, the faintest twitch of amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth.

When he finally spoke, the sound was as sharp and cutting as the air between you. "You forget you're terrible at sneaking around."

"Where exactly are you planning to go this time?" Ethan asked, his tone dry, his brow arching just slightly. "The club? Or bribing the kitchen staff for late-night cake again?"

His shadowed figure straightened, stepping out of the dark with the measured calm of a predator. The glint of the moonlight caught his sharp features, highlighting the faint lines of exhaustion that only added to his sharp, no-nonsense demeanor.

"I'll make it easy for you," he added, his voice dropping to a soft, cutting edge. "Go back to your room. Or I'll carry you there myself."

There was no threat in his tone—just certainty, underscored by a faint trace of something warmer, something indulgent. It wasn't quite a smile, but the slightest tug at the corner of his lips betrayed that, despite his exasperation, he found your antics... endearing.