The moment the Duchess’s voice rang out, every head turned toward it. Meanwhile, the moment her eyes found Elias across the hall, something in her expression shifted. Adrian noticed it instantly, and his stomach dropped. He knew that look. It was the look she wore when something caught her interest deeply or she found something she liked. Adrian’s throat went dry. No… not this look. Anyone but this look. He fumed. He stepped closer to her instinctively, trying to insert himself into her line of sight. Then he quickly rushed towards her, trying to shift her attention from Elias. “Your Grace,” he said quickly as he walked, forcing a confident tone. “This man is an intruder. He has no right to be here. I was only trying to—” But the duchess didn’t even spare him a glance. She simply walked past him straight toward Elias. Adrian followed her, panic creeping into his steps. “Your Grace,” he tried again, lowering his voice, “he’s causing trouble. I can have him removed immediately—” T

Elias watched as Adrian was dragged toward the door. Just as the guards were about to get off the door, Elias’s voice cut through the chaos. “Wait.” The guards stopped in their tracks. Adrian who was still on the floor, blinked in confusion. He was so sure Elias had finally won, but why would he stop them now? “Let him go,” Elias said calmly, his eyes never leaving Adrian. “You’ve made your point, but don’t kill him.” Anastasia’s lips curled ever so slightly, but her expression remained cold. “You’re asking me to release him?” she said, her voice edged with amusement. “Why? Does he mean something to you now?” Elias shook his head, his gaze never leaving Adrian. “No. He’s just a piece that doesn’t matter. But you’ve already humiliated him enough. Let him go.” Adrian couldn’t believe his ears. He had thought Elias was playing a game, but now it seemed like he was asking for his release out of nowhere, and for reasons that didn’t make sense. Was this some sort of test? Was he tryi

Elias and Anastasia’s arrival at the dinner was met with cold stares. The mansion was lavish, as expected. opulent chandeliers hung from the ceiling, polished dining table, expensive cuisine, but it was clear that Elias and Anastasia were not welcome. As they approached the table, the family was already seated. Anastasia’s grandfather, Lord Hargrave, the patriarch of the family, sat at the head of the table, scrutinizing every move they made. Beside him was Anastasia’s aunt, Lady Morgana, a formidable woman whose cold gaze immediately locked on Anastasia. Her daughter, Lila, sat beside her, her eyes gleaming with malice, while Lila’s husband, Viktor, sat next to her. The atmosphere was suffocating as all their malicious gaze were fixed on Anathasia and Elias. They had barely gotten comfortable when her Lila leaned in with a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes, her tone dripping with mockery. “How lovely that the Duchess is here, all alone.” She paused, glancing around. “Shame n

The silence that followed the maid's announcement was absolute. It wasn't just quiet—it was a vacuum, a void where sound should have been.For a heartbeat, no one moved. No one breathed.Then the room detonated.Immediately, the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Anastasia felt it on her skin—that creeping cold that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with death approaching on quiet feet.Her breath caught in her throat like a trapped bird. Her hands, now trembling violently, gripped her grandfather's arm. The muscle beneath his expensive silk sleeve had gone slack. Weak. The strength that had once intimidated business rivals across three continents was dissolving like salt in water.His breathing. God, his breathing.Shallow. Uneven. The sound of a machine running out of fuel."Find the doctor," Anastasia said. Her voice came out strangled, desperate. "Call him. Now.”Her uncle—the one with the expensive watch and cheaper morals—was already fumbling with his

Elias moved through the manor's industrial kitchen like a surgeon entering an operating theater. His hands were steady. His breathing controlled.The knowledge flowing through his mind was crystalline, precise.Hawthorn berry. Motherwort. Ginkgo. Cohosh.He found the herb garden through the French doors—an elaborate arrangement of medicinal plants that Lord Hargrave's late wife had cultivated. The irony wasn't lost on him.His hands moved with practiced efficiency, selecting leaves, crushing stems, measuring proportions by weight and feel rather than instruments.3:47In the dining hall, the family waited. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the wet, labored sound of the old man's breathing.Anastasia knelt beside her grandfather, holding his hand. She whispered things no one could hear. Prayers, maybe. Apologies.Lady Morgana watched the timer like a hawk.3:15Victor leaned over to Lila, speaking low enough that only she could hear. "When he fails, we end this. Both of them.