Bound to my Enemy novel Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Chapter 30.

I woke up earlier than usual.

My body just refused to stay asleep. The house was quiet in that early-morning way. I lay there for a bit, staring at the ceiling, listening to the low hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of someone moving around downstairs.

I eventually got up, showered, and dressed in something simple. Jeans. A soft long-sleeved top. Nothing fancy. I tied my hair back, glanced at myself in the mirror, and looked away before I could start overthinking.

When I got downstairs, breakfast was already set.

Auntie May was moving between the counter and the table, humming under her breath. She’d been in Lucas’s house for as long as I could remember. Longer than Ivy, longer than Caleb. She used to make my lunch before school, braid my hair when I was too young to care, scold me when I skipped meals. At some point, she stopped feeling like staff and just became... family.

"Morning, my girl," she said when she saw me. "Sit. Food will get cold."

I did.

Ivy came down a few minutes later, still in one of Lucas’s oversized shirts, hair messy, eyes barely open. She dropped into the chair beside me and rested her head on my shoulder.

"You look like you didn’t get much sleep," she murmured.

"I slept," I said. "Just... barely ."

Lucas and Noah joined shortly after. The table filled the way it always did. Plates clinking. Chairs scraping. Someone asking for more coffee.

Normal.

Too normal, considering everything.

We were halfway through breakfast when Auntie May disappeared upstairs and came back down carrying a large box.

It was matte black. Clean. Heavy-looking. There was a cream-colored envelope taped neatly to the top.

She stopped beside me.

"This came early," she said. "Courier asked for you by name."

I frowned. "For me?"

She nodded and set it down gently, like it was fragile

The room went quiet.

Ivy straightened immediately peering at the box. "What is that?"

"I don’t know," I said honestly.

The envelope had my name written on it in clean, sharp handwriting. No return address. No explanation.

I slid my finger under the seal and opened it.

It was an invitation

Formal. Thick paper. A dinner date, time, location. Zane’s name printed at the bottom like a signature.

And then there was a second note tucked inside.

Short.

You’ll wear what’s in the box.

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