PRISON KING'S RETURN

chapter 5

This was the Valtarre family’s chief butler Mr. Elias Vayne. He was the man who personally received Armand Kessler whenever the Valtarre estate summoned him.

“Mr. Vayne!” Armand hurried forward, surprise written plainly on his face. “What brings you here?”

“Good afternoon, sir.”

“Mr. Vayne—good day!”

Several voices chimed in, eager and respectful.

Alaric Vayne didn’t spare them a single glance.

He walked straight past them and stopped in front of Drayce. Then, to everyone’s disbelief, he bowed slightly.

“My apologies for the disturbance,” he said calmly. “I will ensure this matter is handled properly.”

The air went dead still.

Alaric turned sharply toward Selara, his gaze cold. “How dare you insult and threaten Mr. Cassian Valtarre’s honored guest?”

Selara’s breath hitched. The words barely registered. Guest? Her eyes dropped to the floor, shock hollowing her expression. Around her, the men exchanged confused looks, unease creeping in fast.

Guest?

Wasn’t this man supposed to be an escaped criminal?

“Apologize to Mr. Drayce immediately,” Alaric barked, voice like iron striking stone. “Or you will regret it.”

Color drained from Selara’s face. In Aurelia, her family didn’t even qualify as a rival to the Valtarre name. If this man wished it, her future could be erased before sunset and no one would dare object.

Her knees wobbled. She looked like she might collapse.

“It’s fine,” Drayce said suddenly.

All eyes snapped to him.

He wasn’t interested in humiliating women. And besides—Selara still owed him three favors. Letting this slide cost him nothing.

He glanced at Alaric. “What do you need me for?”

The butler inclined his head again, respectful. “Mr. Cassian wishes to see you at the villa.”

Drayce considered it briefly. With the storms grounding flights, he wasn’t going anywhere today anyway. “Alright.”

They turned to leave together, missing the storm that erupted behind them.

“What the hell was that, Selara?” someone hissed the moment they were gone.

“You said he was a criminal!”

“If something happens to us because of this, I’ll drag you down with me!”

“Did you take us for fools?!”

Selara squeaked as accusations rained down. Her mind was still spinning, stuck on one impossible truth.

Why was Drayce there?

Armand Kessler raised a hand. “Enough.”

The room quieted.

He turned to Selara with a polite, measured smile. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Mr. Drayce, Ms. Selara. Congratulations,.your company will receive this contract.”

Her head snapped up.

“And all future projects,” he continued lightly. “On one condition.”

Her heart thudded.

“You will appoint Mr. Drayce as the middleman.”

“Liora,” Cassian said gently, guiding her forward, “this is Drayce the one who healed you. And… it turns out the two of you are engaged.”

He explained everything as calmly as he could. About the old agreement. About his father’s final words that this young man carried a kind of power that could shelter the Valtarre family for generations.

Cassian had dismissed it as superstition once. After watching Drayce pull his daughter back from the edge of death, he no longer dared to.

Liora’s face hardened.

“No, he’s not,” she snapped. “I said I would never marry anyone. And I meant it.”

Her glare cut toward Drayce, sharp and defiant.

Drayce met it without flinching. “Relax,” he said flatly. “I’m not planning to marry you either.”

What was it with the women in his life?

He turned to Cassian instead. “So why did you call me here?”

Cassian opened his mouth then stalled. For a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. His daughter had always been guarded, prickly even. But Drayce… Drayce was no easier to deal with. Didn’t this young man have even a shred of courtesy?

Before the silence could turn sour, Elyria stepped in.

“Can’t we invite you here just to talk, Drayce?” she said warmly. “Engaged or not, that makes us family, doesn’t it?”

She smiled, then added gently, “By the way did your parents come with you?”

Drayce noticed the care in her tone and softened in response. “I grew up an orphan. My only guardian was my master.

He’s been away for five years and hasn’t returned yet. So… it’s just me.”

Elyria’s smile faltered, only slightly. An orphan. That meant no powerful lineage. No towering family backing him.

She hesitated. “Then how did you spend those five years? Why didn’t you come back?”

Drayce’s jaw tightened. “He made me wait for him in prison.”

The word hit the room like a dropped plate.

Prison?

Elyria’s breath caught. No one good ever came out of prison at least, that was what the world believed. And this was the man tied to their precious daughter?

Sensing the shift, Elyria turned quickly to Liora. “Have you spoken to Lucien yet? He stayed by your side all those months you were ill.”

Liora nodded, already retreating. “I’m tired,” she said quietly. “I’m going back to my room.”

She didn’t look at Drayce again as she headed upstairs.

Elyria watched her go, then turned to Cassian with a composed smile. “Dear, why don’t you head to the study? You’ll want to prepare the company’s proposals especially with Ms. Valeywyn’s investment is on the horizon.”

Cassian watched his wife’s shoulders square, the subtle shift from gracious hostess to gatekeeper unmistakable. He felt the same quiet relief settle in his gut.

The boy had saved Liora. There was no denying that miracle but prison? Orphan? No lineage, no prospects, no shield against the whispers that would follow if word got out? Old Arden must have been confused in his final years, mixing up names or prophecies the way the dying sometimes do. Cassian had almost convinced himself that Drayce could be the answer his father promised centuries of peace, prosperity, strength. Now the idea felt foolish, fragile as frost.

Drayce saw it too. The distance, the sudden chill. He understood what was coming—but his thoughts snagged on one detail that felt far too precise to be chanced.

“Mrs. Valtarre,” he said slowly, “the Ms. Valeywyn you mentioned… is she from the Valeywyn family of Aurexen City?”

Elyria’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. More like a cut.

“Yes,” she said. “But that’s none of your concern.” Her eyes hardened. “And don’t call me Mrs. Valtarre. We’re not familiar.”

Drayce’s brow creased. So this is how it is.

Women, young or old, really did change faces faster than the weather.

The sharp smack of plastic against glass broke the quiet.

Elyria set a card on the coffee table, pushing it forward with two fingers, as though it might stain her skin. “There’s at least a million dollars on that card,” she said coolly. “Take it and leave. From today on, you will not associate yourself with my family. And you will never ever mention an engagement with my daughter again. Is that clear?”

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.

Men like him, she believed, only understood money.

Heat surged in Drayce’s chest, sudden and fierce. His fingers flexed once at his side, the urge to snap back sharp on his tongue.

Then his master’s voice surfaced in his mind, calm and unyielding.

Never lower yourself to the level of fools. Silence wounds deeper than rage.

Drayce let out a quiet breath, more tired than angry.

“It’s you I want nothing to do with,” he said evenly. “And no I don’t fault people for having nothing. But pretending to be above everyone else when you’re hollow inside?” His gaze flicked to the card on the table. “That’s worth fixing. Keep your money. Consider it a gift from me.”

He turned and walked out without waiting for an answer.

The door had barely closed before the sky darkened. Rain came down in heavy sheets, sudden and loud, the kind that announced a storm before the thunder ever spoke.

Inside, Elyria stood rigid, fury vibrating through her spine. Poor? That runaway criminal had called her poor?

She was the matriarch of one of Aurelia’s most powerful families. If he hadn’t been convicted nobody, she would have struck him herself.

“You have ten minutes,” she snapped toward the door. “Be gone. I don’t want to see you here again.”

Outside, Drayce gave a soft acknowledgment and pulled out his phone, thumb already moving as he dialed a familiar number.

Cassian came down the stairs, his steps slower, his expression tight. He had heard enough. He’d planned to intervene if things spiraled; they couldn’t afford entanglements with people like Drayce, not with their standing.

“You’re leaving?” he asked. “I can have the butler drive you.”

Before Drayce could answer, Elyria scoffed. “He’s calling for a ride. Didn’t you notice?”

Cassian said nothing. In public, the world saw him as Aurelia’s wealthiest man. At home, he knew better who held the reins. He cast his wife a displeased look. Why provoke a boy who’s already leaving?

Elyria folded her arms, lips curling. “That friend of yours—let me guess. Another prison contact? I’m sure they’re very impressive.”

In her mind, the matter was settled. A man with five years behind bars didn’t keep company worth mentioning.

The rain drummed harder against the windows.

Then the butler hurried in, his face carefully neutral, his voice low but urgent.

“Sir. Madam,” he announced, “the Dragon Lord has arrived.”