Lucas Caelum Draeven was halfway through the executive corridor when it hit him.
A sudden chill.
Sharp. Piercing.
Like cold water had been dumped over his shoulders.
He stopped.
His suit was dry.
The hallway was warm.
But his body shivered.
It wasn’t physical.
It was something else.
He frowned, pressing a hand to his chest.
And then—just seconds later—he saw her.
Elara.
Soaked from head to toe, her cream blouse clinging to her skin, her slate gray trousers damp and wrinkled. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks, and she clutched a navy blue jacket that clearly wasn’t hers.
She looked cold.
Uncomfortable.
Vulnerable.
Lucas’s eyes narrowed.
I felt that.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t approach.
But something inside him shifted.
He pulled out his phone and dialed.
“Riven.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Buy clothes for Elara. Something warm. Comfortable. Neutral tones. Make sure it suits her. Deliver it to her directly. No one else sees it.”
“Understood.”
Lucas paused, then added:
“Be fast.”
“On it.”
He hung up.
He didn’t explain the chill.
Didn’t mention the strange connection.
Some things didn’t need words.
As he reached the elevator to the executive floor, Riven was already waiting, coat in hand.
“I’m heading out now,” Riven said. “I’ll make sure it’s discreet.”
Lucas nodded once.
“Good.”
He stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind him.
He didn’t look back.
But the image of Elara—soaked, shivering, clutching someone else’s jacket—stayed with him.
And for the first time, he realized:
He didn’t just feel responsible.
He felt connected.
Not by duty.
Not by legacy.
But by something deeper.
Something the seal had awakened.
Elara had just returned to her desk, wrapped in Mina’s hoodie, her damp blouse folded neatly in her bag. She was still chilled, but the worst of it had passed.
She didn’t expect anyone to notice.
She didn’t expect anyone to care.
So when Riven Lau appeared beside her desk—quiet, composed, and holding a plain paper bag—she blinked in surprise.
“Ms. Mariselle,” he said softly. “This is for you.”
He placed the bag gently on her desk. No one else was around. Mina had stepped out. The hallway was quiet.
Elara opened the bag slowly.
Inside was a fresh change of clothes: a soft beige sweater, a pair of black slacks, and a simple pair of socks. All neatly folded. All warm. All modestly priced—nothing flashy, nothing extravagant.
Just… thoughtful.
She looked up at Riven, eyes wide.
“I—thank you. Really. Can you thank the person who sent this?”
Riven nodded once, then placed a second item on her desk—a small insulated cup.
“Warm chocolate. I figured you’d need it.”
Elara smiled sweetly, her fingers curling around the cup.
“You figured right.”
Riven didn’t sit. He didn’t linger. But his gaze was steady.
“Did you happen to see the President earlier?”
Elara hesitated, then shook her head.
“No. Why?”
Riven gave a small nod, unreadable.
“Just curious. That’s all.”
He turned to leave, but Elara stopped him.
“Wait—if someone asks where I got these clothes… what should I say?”
Riven paused, then offered a quiet answer.
“Say a friend from Caelure sent them. You mentioned you worked there. It’s believable.”
Elara nodded, grateful.
“Thank you. Again.”
Riven gave a faint smile.
“Take care, Ms. Mariselle.”
And with that, he walked away—no questions, no explanations.
Just quiet understanding.
Elara looked down at the clothes again, her heart warm despite the chill.
They weren’t expensive.
They weren’t flashy.
But they were exactly what she needed.
And somehow…
Someone knew that.