Isabelle's POV
I woke up on a hardwood floor. I didn't know how much time had passed.
My head was pounding. Not the cute kind of headache you get from too much champagne. The kind where someone hit you and you're pretty sure your brain is now a different shape. I pushed myself up slowly. My vision was swimming at this point.
I wasn't tied up. That was weird. I turned my wrist over slowly. No rope marks. No zip ties. Nothing. A wave of uneasiness crept up my spine. I hurriedly checked myself, brushing my hands over my clothes and skin, making sure nothing had been done to me while I was out.
I slowly scanned the room around me. I was in a nice room. Old money nice. The kind with wallpaper that costs more than most people's rent and furniture that nobody actually sits on. But what got me was the walls.
Portraits. Everywhere.
A woman with red hair and silver eyes stared down at me from above a marble fireplace. She had a violin tucked under her chin. The same tilt of the head I see in every photo of myself. My mother. Elena.
Other faces too. Old men with stern jaws. Women in elaborate dresses. All of them with that same red hair, those same pale eyes. The Valois family tree stared at me like I was the ghost at their funeral.
A table was set in the middle of the room. White cloth. Silverware. A plate of food I couldn't even look at. A glass of red wine catches the light.
"Sit down, Althea. You look pale."
Seraphina Schuyler stood in the doorway. She wore a navy blue dress, her hair was perfectly styled and she wore that smile that never reached her eyes. She gestured at the table like she was hosting a dinner party.
"What the hell is this?"
"Sit," she ordered. Not a suggestion.
My legs moved before my brain could process it. Probably the head injury. I dropped into a chair. The wood was cold through my clothes.
Seraphina sat across from me. She picked up a wine glass, swirled it, and took a sip like we were old friends catching up.
"You've been a problem," she said. "Not a big one. Just persistent. Like a weed that keeps growing back."
"Thanks. You're a real poet."
She ignored that. "You saw the documents. You know about the trust. The land. All of it."
I didn't answer.
"Here's the thing, Althea. I don't actually care. The money's already moved. The signatures are forged so well that even your mother wouldn't know the difference. You could scream the truth from every rooftop and half the people would still believe me."
"Then why am I here?"
She set down her glass. "Dmitri."
The name landed hard.
"He's useless right now. Can't focus. Can't close the deal with Emmeline. Every time he should be looking at my daughter, he's looking for you." Her eyes went flat. "That ends tonight."
"So what are you planning to do? Kill me?"
"I'm going to give you a meal first. I'm not a monster."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. It came out sharp and ugly. "You dropped a chandelier on me. You had me grabbed outside the orphanage. And now you're serving me chicken and pretending you're civilized."
She wasn't even bothered. "Eat or don't. Makes no difference to me."
I looked at the food. My stomach turned. "What happens after?"
"You disappear. Oh, don't be worried. It won't be dramatic. There will be no body, no crime scene. It will be like you vanished from the surface of the planet. People will talk for a week. Then they'll move on. They always do."
"And Dmitri?"
"He'll grieve. Then he'll marry my daughter. Eventually, he'll thank me."
I wanted to throw the wine in her face. But my arms felt heavy. Probably whatever they'd knocked me out with was still swimming in my veins. Or maybe just the weight of everything.
"Your mother," Seraphina said, "used to sit like that. Chin up, pretending she wasn't scared. Acting like she belonged with the rest of us. It worked on everyone except me."
"I'm not scared of you."
"I know. That's the problem."
She stood and walked to one of the portraits. My mother's face. My face. She touched the frame like she was touching an old friend.
"Elena trusted me. Completely. I was her person. The one she called when things got hard. She'd sit right there—" she pointed at my chair "—and tell me everything. Her fears. Her hopes. How much she loved that man she married."
She said it without emotion, like she'd already said it a hundred times in her head.
"And then she chose him over me. Over us. She was going to throw everything away, everything we had for some man she'd known for three years."
"God… You're insane."
"I'm practical. There's a difference."
She turned back. "One piece of advice before I go. If you see Arthur again and I don't think you will, tell him his daughter cries just like he did. It'll break his heart."
"I don't know what that means."
She smiled. A real full smile. Worst thing I'd ever seen.
The door closed. The lock clicked.
I sat there alone with my mother's face and a plate of food I'd never eat.
Dmitri's POV
I couldn't fight the guards earlier. That would've made things worse. Isabelle could already be in trouble wherever the hell they took her.
But this ends tonight. I'm done letting him decide my life. Done being his pawn. I'm walking away from all of it. Right here. Right now. In front of everyone.
My father's hand on my shoulder, heavy and possessive.
"Smile," he hissed. "This merger keeps us on top for fifty years."
Emmeline stood across the room in a white dress. She looked like a ghost dressed for her own funeral. Her eyes kept flicking to me, then away. Sometimes scared. Sometimes hopeful. I couldn't read her anymore.
The Director stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we celebrate the future of two great families—"
"There isn't going to be a future."
The words came out before I could stop them. The room went quiet. All those rich faces turning, shocked that someone broke the script.
My father's grip tightened. "Dmitri. Sit down."
I shook him off. Pulled the ring box from my pocket. A small velvet thing that probably cost more than most cars. I held it up so everyone could see.
"You want a merger?" I said. "Here it is."
I dropped it in a glass of red wine. The liquid splashed making red stains spread across the white tablecloth like someone had been shot.
I turned to him. "The engagement is off. Find another pawn."
I didn't wait for his reaction. I walked out. The night air hit my face like a slap. I breathed for what felt like the first time in hours.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out.
The tracker app was open. The little dot that meant Isabelle was somewhere. It was gone. Her last location was near the orphanage. Over an hour ago.
I stared at the screen. My hands started shaking.
"Shit."
Isabelle's POV
The door opened again.
An older man came in. He looked messy and he reeked of alcohol. His jacket was gone and his shirt was soaked with sweat. He looked at me like I was a ghost.
"Oh god," he whispered. "You look just like her."
"Who are you?"
He stumbled closer as he fell to his knees.
"I'm Augustin," he choked. "Augustin Schuyler. Emmeline's father. I was supposed to be your godfather, Althea. I was supposed to protect you."
I stared. This drunk wreck of a man on the floor, crying at my feet.
"You're Seraphina's husband."
"I'm a coward." He grabbed my hand. His grip was desperate and too tight. "I've spent fifteen years watching her destroy everything. Everyone. I didn't stop her. I didn't say anything."
"Um… Okay? Can you let go of my hand for a second?"
He did. Sat back on his heels. His face was a mess of tears and snot and something that looked like relief.
"Your father," he said. "Arthur. He was a very good friend. We grew up together. I loved him like a brother."
"There's more," he said. "The whole story. What really happened to them… on that night."
He opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately. He opened it again. Like the words were stuck.
"I was there," he finally said. His voice was barely a whisper. "At the lake house. I saw everything."
My blood went cold. "What did you see?"
He shook his head. Couldn't look at me.
"Augustin. What did you see?"
"Things I can't..." He grabbed my hands. His grip was desperate, shaking. "I didn't stop it, Althea. I could have. I should have. But I just stood there. I watched. And then—"
He stopped.
"And then what?"
Tears ran down his face. He looked broken.
"The water," he whispered. "I heard them in the water. I heard your father screaming your name. And I didn't—I couldn't—"
The lights flickered. Footsteps outside.
His eyes went wide. "I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm so sorry."
I grabbed his arm. "Augustin—"
"There's more," he said. "There's someone else. Someone closer to you than you think."
"Who?"
He opened his mouth. The lights flickered. Footsteps outside.
Augustin's eyes went wide. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
The lock clicked. I grabbed his arm.
"Who, Augustin?"
He looked at me with something like love and terror mixed.
"Your—"