Three of us entered the terrace. Both of them started scanning the shadows, checking for blind spots and prying ears.

"Levi, how much longer must we wait?" Lady Isolde asked, her voice tight with barely concealed impatience.

"Lady Isolde, I understand your concern, but there is a formidable obstacle in the way right now. I require names for potential birth mothers," Levi replied, his voice smooth, devoid of any inflection, a statement of fact, not a request.

"What, did you finally lose your mind and have sex with a noblewoman?" Lady Isolde inquired, her tone sharp.

"Obviously not. This issue is far more profound. I am in dire need of your connections and capabilities," Levi stated, his eyes fixed on her, a silent command in their depths.

"Fine. I will arrange a tea party. Also, time is drawing near. You need to do something," Lady Isolde said, her voice laced with a subtle urgency.

"Thank you. Your marriage was the issue, correct?" Levi asked, his gaze unwavering.

"Yes, marriage… They are going to wed me to my second cousin," Lady Isolde replied, her voice trembling with barely suppressed anger.

"Second cousin… Sir Marcel? Correct. But do not be concerned about a potential heir. He is already sterile," Levi said, his voice flat, matter-of-fact.

"That’s not the issue, you machine. He is my cousin. It’s disgusting," Lady Isolde retorted, her voice trembling with a mixture of disgust and rage.

"I understand, Lady Isolde. I cannot stand in the way of your marriage, nor can I cancel it. But, perhaps I can persuade Sir Marcel," Levi offered, his voice a low, silken threat.

"He is a stuck-up prick. Do what you must. Also, be prepared. Your mother is on the move. Apparently, you cast her away on an island, so she is going to come after you, both of you," Lady Isolde warned us, addressing us both.

"My mother… Yes, Lady Isolde. Thank you. When you assess the list of potential birth mothers, please inform me with earnestness. We have two weeks remaining," Levi replied, his voice calm, but with an underlying urgency.

"I will," Lady Isolde confirmed, her gaze lingering on Levi for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them, before she turned and disappeared back into the ballroom.

As I was watching both of the tall figures speaking to each other, I started to connect some of the dots.

"Levi, is Lady Isolde your…?"

"Yes," he replied, his gaze still fixed on the ballroom entrance where Lady Isolde had disappeared. "She is an informant of mine. As are most of the noblewomen. Noblewomen are aware of the consequences of years of inbreeding. Excluding my mother… Apparently."

I leaned towards him, placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer simple warmth and understanding. "She sucks," I said.

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"She truly does."

We went back to the ballroom again. We weren’t outside for too long, but the remaining guests had arrived too. There was a different crowd, not nobles but wealthy individuals, possibly Levi’s charity donors. The surrounding air was far more relaxed. They weren’t busy with noble blood, lineage, or class; they were busy with their money and possible tax evasion, but also donating money to the charity.

As Levi was introducing me to them, I could tell they weren’t concerned with our sexuality or background.

"Raphael, this is Mr. Cohen," Levi said, his hand resting lightly on my arm. "A generous supporter of my foundation."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blake," Mr. Cohen replied, his smile wide and genuine. "Levi speaks very highly of you."

The compliments were brief, but sincere. And as we moved through the crowd, I began to understand. These people weren’t just donors; they were a network, a community. They trusted Levi; they respected him.

Many greetings later, Levi was called to make a speech and toast for this occasion, celebrating the largest amount of donations in a single day in the history of the foundation. He had said it was because of our marriage in his text. I never thought he would be right. But he was.

I and everyone else in the room watched Levi, walking silently and slowly to the far end of the ballroom. He ascended the raised platform, a champagne glass held loosely in his hand, and stood before the microphone.

Even his silence was captivating. It was a tangible thing, a force that held the room in its grip. I understood, once again, what it meant for someone to stop time. Every breath was held, every eye fixed on him, every movement drawn towards his still figure like iron filings to a magnet. Then he began to speak in a warm, buttery voice.

"My esteemed guests, tonight we gather to celebrate a noble achievement. Our foundation has reached an all-time milestone. Thanks to you, and your unwavering compassion, we procured a record amount of donations in a single day of our history, supporting at-risk youth within the queer community.

"Your contributions tonight will provide shelter, education, and a sense of belonging to those who have been too often denied it. You have offered them a lifeline, a chance to build a future free from prejudice and fear."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room, acknowledging each individual with a subtle nod, a fleeting smile. "And for that, I am profoundly grateful. But, I must acknowledge another deserving figure for this stark achievement."

Another pause came, the silence in the room deepening, a palpable anticipation hanging in the air. His voice, when he spoke again, was more intimate, more personal.

"This achievement doesn’t belong to me," he said, his eyes locking onto mine. "It is due to the efforts of my husband, who reminded me of the importance and rareness of… connection."

He raised his glass, the light catching the crystal, sending a shimmering cascade of reflections across the room. "Let this moment of ours remind us how crystal-clear that love is here, with us. And it should never be shunned, no matter who and what we are."

The room erupted in applause, a wave of warmth and approval washing over us. He had used his platform, his influence, to celebrate our marriage, to champion the cause of inclusivity.

I took a glass of champagne from the counter, and took a slow, deliberate sip. This man, who clearly never loved anyone, was talking about how love shouldn’t be shunned. The irony...

Our eyes were locked again when he took a sip of his glass.

Then, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. My head felt strangely light, the room tilting slightly. The vibrant colors of the ballroom seemed to blur, the joyous sounds of the crowd fading into a distant hum.

I tried to focus, to regain my bearings, but my vision swam, the room spinning around me. I stumbled slightly, my hand gripping the edge of the counter for support.

Last thing I saw was people rushing over to me, and the last thing I heard was Levi’s distant voice.