Too late to want me back

The Errand

Seraphina Evermore learned early that gratitude could feel a lot like a leash.

By sixteen, she already knew how to smile when people humiliated her.

She knew how to keep her head down when rich girls whispered loud enough for her to hear. 

She knew how to pretend she didn’t notice the pity in the servants’ eyes whenever they looked at her mother in the Ashford mansion.

And most importantly—

She knew how to come running whenever Lucien Ashford called.

Her phone buzzed against the desk during literature class.

Lucien: Buy condoms. Same brand as last time.

No hello.

No please.

Just another order.

Seraphina stared at the message while the teacher’s voice faded into background noise. Her cheeks heated instantly, though it wasn’t shock anymore. Lucien had been making her do things like this for months.

Sometimes cigarettes.

Sometimes alcohol.

Sometimes gifts for Isolde Sterling.

Sometimes hotel bookings under fake names.

And sometimes—

This.

“Seraphina?”

She looked up quickly.

The teacher frowned. “Would you like to answer the question?”

A few students laughed under their breath.

At the back of the classroom, Isolde Sterling crossed her legs elegantly, smiling like she was watching a servant embarrass herself.

Seraphina slowly stood up.

“The poem is about emotional dependency,” she said softly. “The speaker mistakes suffering for love.”

For one second, the room went quiet.

Then somebody snorted.

“How appropriate,” one of Isolde’s friends muttered.

Even the teacher looked awkward.

Seraphina sat back down, gripping her phone tightly under the desk.

Another message popped up immediately.

Lucien: Don’t forget. I’m waiting.

Waiting.

That single word made her stomach twist.

Because Lucien Ashford never waited for anyone.

Unless he needed condoms for another girl.

Behind the counter, two pharmacy workers glanced at her again.

“That girl’s back again?” one whispered.

“The private school one? Yeah. I’ve seen her here like three times this week already.”

A quiet laugh followed.

“Condoms last time too, right?”

“No, emergency pills yesterday.”

“Seriously?”

“She looks way too young for this…”

The other worker lowered her voice, but not enough.

“Rich kids really are wild.”

Another soft laugh.

“Or maybe her boyfriend just doesn’t care about her.”

Seraphina kept her head lowered, pretending she couldn’t hear any of it.

That was the worst part.

Not the mocking.

But how normal this had started to feel.

Cold autumn wind brushed across her face. She hugged the paper bag tightly against her chest, wishing she could disappear into the sidewalk.

A black Aston Martin pulled up beside her.

The passenger window rolled down halfway.

Lucien Ashford sat inside lazily in his school uniform, tie loose around his collar. Dark hair fell across sharp brows, and his expression carried that effortless arrogance of someone who grew up believing the world belonged to him.

“Get in.”

No thank you.

No apology.

Seraphina got in anyway.

The inside of the car smelled like expensive cologne and Isolde’s floral perfume.

That hurt more than it should have.

Lucien held out one