Isabelle's POV
The air in the garden felt sharp. It cut right through my coat and got into my bones. It was a sharp wake-up call after last night. After the mess of Dmitri's hands and the way he'd sounded against my mouth. As I touched my lips, the memories came crashing into my head, not caring if I processed them or not.
What was I thinking, kissing him like that and even pulling him closer? I could feel the heat rising in my face. I couldn't face him yet, not even in that state. I had to get my act together so I could put on a poker face when we met.
The kiss was a mistake. A massive, wreck-your-life kind of mistake. Girls like me don't fix guys like Dmitri Volkov. We just get pulled under.
"Isabelle."
The voice came out thin and hollow. I turned around. Julien was standing there. He looked… different. The morning light made him look terrible. That "Golden Boy" shine was gone. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, almost bruised. He was shaking, holding a little leather book, those rare Debussy scores I'd mentioned once.
"Julien." His name caught in my throat.
He took a half-step toward me, then stopped. He hesitated, afraid to come close. "I've been looking for you. I couldn't... sleep." He looked at the fountain. "I just keep seeing your face when you realize… the betrayal."
He stared at the book, his knuckles going white on the spine. "I failed you. My dad... the money... I… I thought I was being the hero. I was just being another guard. I wanted to keep you safe, but I just built a prettier cage."
"Julien, you don't have to do this—"
"I do!" He yelled it. The pain in his voice made me flinch. He finally looked at me and he looked totally wrecked. "My whole life is a show. The perfect son. The perfect heir. With you... I just wanted to be enough. I thought if I fixed the world for you, you'd finally see me. Not the Rousseau name. Just me."
One tear trailed down his cheek. He looked completely broken.
"I saw you last night," he whispered. His voice was falling apart. "In the music room. With him. I came to say I was sorry…and I saw... how you held him."
I couldn't breathe. I felt the ground shifting beneath me.
"It killed me," he said. "I thought you and I had something different, something real and genuine. I guess I was wrong. I finally got it. I tried to give you a house, but he permitted you to be wild. But he's a Volkov, Isabelle. He doesn't love things. He eats them. He'll burn you until there's nothing left. And I'm just the idiot who was too scared to be anything but safe."
He held out the book. His arm was trembling. "Please. Don't make me a ghost. You can pick the fire. I can live with that. Don't hate me. Don't treat me as one of them."
His grief felt heavy. It made my anger feel small and mean. This was the guy who'd been my only friend. This felt real.
I stepped forward and took the book. His skin was freezing. I didn't think about it, I just wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in. He smelled like clean linen and just... misery. "I don't hate you, Julien. I couldn't."
He made a choked sound and pulled me back, holding me as if I were a fragment of a dream that might vanish at any moment. It was hard to breathe. I had the feeling he wanted the old me back.
Dmitri's POV
I watched the whole thing from the shadows of the pillars. My hand was digging into the stone.
It wasn't even jealousy. It was just... nothing. Like the world had ended.
There she was, giving Julien the kind of soft comfort I'd never even know how to ask for. Last night, she tasted like a way out. This morning, she was just a reminder. Saints get forgiven. Monsters get put down.
You're a Volkov, my father's voice hissed in my head. You don't win with your heart. You win with your teeth.
I turned away. My chest felt like a hole. I didn't have time for feelings. I had a mess to solve before my father used it to end her.
I made my way to his private office on campus. I've known how to pick the lock since I was ten. The room smelled like expensive scotch and lies.
I tore the desk apart. Ledgers, blackmail, a bunch of ruined lives on paper. Nothing on the Duvals.
Then I found a false bottom in the floor safe.
Inside was one burnt photo.
Elena Duval. She had Isabelle's face and a smile that hadn't been killed yet.
There was a note on the back: Property of St. Aurelia. Missing since 2010.
My blood went cold. He didn't keep the evidence.
He planted it inside the school walls, buried by the people who built the lie.
The archives. The one place my family and the Rousseaus actually fight over.
The admin block was dead quiet at dawn. Rousseau's office door looked like a brick wall. Opening it wasn't just a break-in, it was starting a war with my own blood.
I went in. The moonlight turned the filing cabinets into rows of graves.
The "Restricted" section was full of old scandals. I found a box shoved behind some land papers. I pulled it out, dust flying everywhere. The lid came off with a groan. Right on top was a file. The name on the tab made my heart stop.
Althea De Valois.
There was a gold locket sitting on the papers. The crest on it was the same thing Isabelle was always drawing in her notebooks. A memory she didn't even know she had.
My hands were shaking. I grabbed a medical report from under the locket, something from the night of the Valois fire.
I read the lines: "Infant female, Althea. Deep cut across the right palm. Broken glass. Permanent scar."
The world just stopped. I saw Isabelle's hand. The way she held her bow. That thin, silver line across her palm she told me came from a fall at the orphanage. A signature written in skin.
This wasn't just a file. It was a life someone stole and turned into a charity case. My family didn't just watch the Valois family fall. We were the ones holding the axe.
"Looking for something, Dmitri?"
The voice was calm. Cold. I turned around.
Julien was in the doorway. The light from the hall was behind him, making him look like a shadow. The crying boy from the garden was gone. He looked like his father now, wearing a mean look like he's in charge.
He stepped inside and clicked the door shut.
"I told you," he said.. "I'm done watching. That file is Rousseau's history. It's not yours. Move away from it."
"Make me," I said, dropping the file on the desk and tightening my grip.
"You think you're the one who can save her? You're a Volkov, Dmitri. You ruin everything you touch. Give it to me."
"I'm not giving you jack," I spat. "You've known, haven't you? All this time. You weren't protecting her. You were hiding the body."
Julien took a step closer. The air in the room felt like it was about to snap. "I was keeping her alive. Something you wouldn't understand. Now, step back."
I looked at the file, then at the guy who looked like he was about to lose control. The mask was off for both of us.
"Not a chance," I muttered.