2025-10-25 16:45:20"Noah!"
"Noah, get up!"
The urgent whisper yanked Noah Varyn from a fitful sleep. Miss Valerie, a slender woman in her mid-30s with weary but gentle eyes, hovered over his small bed.
The room was shadowy, with only a sliver of light slipping through a cracked window, casting faint glows on the worn wallpaper of the Adrian mansion’s tiniest bedroom.
Noah rubbed his amber eyes, groggy as he sat up.
"Already morning?"
His voice was hoarse, weighed down by exhaustion.
"Yes, it is," Miss Valerie replied, her tone grave with a hint of worry. She was hurriedly piling his clothes—faded jeans, an old t-shirt—into a battered laundry basket.
"You need to move, Noah. You know how Madam Celeste is about tardiness."
Noah’s stomach churned at the mention of Madam Celeste Adrian, his uncle’s wife, whose sharp cruelty matched her stilettos. He glanced at Miss Valerie’s quick, careful hands and hesitated, the warmth of his bed pulling at him.
With a reluctant sigh, he slid out of bed, the cold floor stinging his bare feet as he shuffled toward the bathroom.
The door had barely closed when the room’s entrance flew open. Madam Celeste stormed in, her fair skin radiant under the harsh light, her icy blue eyes predatory.
"Where’s that filthy little pest?" she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain as she scanned the cramped room, her silk dress glinting like a threat.
Miss Valerie flinched, nearly dropping the basket. "Oh, Madam Celeste, good morning," she stammered, her voice unsteady.
"That’s not what I asked, Valerie. Where is that wretched boy?" Celeste’s words were sharp, each one cutting deeper.
"He’s in the bathroom, Madam," Miss Valerie answered, head bowed, clutching the basket like a shield.
"What? Just waking up now?" Celeste’s eyes snapped to the bathroom door, her manicured nails tapping her crossed arms.
"No, Madam," Miss Valerie said quickly, her voice a nervous murmur, eyes still down.
Celeste’s gaze lingered, cold and piercing, before she turned toward the door, her heels clicking ominously. She paused halfway, spinning back with a scowl.
"When he’s out, tell him to wear the servant’s uniform I gave him. He needs to be in the ballroom—the event’s starting, and the drinks won’t serve themselves." Her lips twisted into a cruel smirk, relishing Noah’s humiliation.
"I’ll tell him, Madam," Miss Valerie replied, her voice shaky but firm.
"And you," Celeste snapped, pointing, "hurry with your chores. My friend’s staying after the event, and the guest room’s a disaster."
"Yes, Madam," Miss Valerie said, eyes fixed on the floor.
Celeste swept out, leaving a trail of overpowering perfume. Miss Valerie sighed, her shoulders sagging as she picked up a stray sock.
Noah emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist, his damp skin catching the dim light. "Was that…?" he began, already knowing.
"The Queen of the Manor herself," Miss Valerie said with a wry smile, trying to ease the tension as she gathered the laundry.
"I overheard," Noah said, moving to his wardrobe. He pulled out the servant’s uniform—a stiff, black-and-white waiter’s outfit Celeste had flung at him like trash. His jaw tightened as he gripped the coarse fabric.
"You did?" Miss Valerie turned, her brown eyes warm with concern.
"Yeah." He sank onto the bed, the uniform in his lap, his expression clouding with sadness. "You shouldn’t have lied about me being up early. She’ll make your life miserable if she finds out."
Miss Valerie stepped closer, her voice steady despite her nerves. "I don’t care, Noah. The way they treat you isn’t right, and I won’t stand for it." She softened. "You’re better than their words."
Noah looked up, a faint smile breaking through. "Thanks, Miss Valerie. You’re a true friend."
She blushed, waving him off with a chuckle. "Oh, stop, you’re embarrassing me!" Her smile faded. "Now hurry and dress before she brings more trouble."
As Miss Valerie left, Noah grabbed the uniform. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, flashing "Cole George." A brief grin crossed his face.
"Cole, my guy, calling me this early?" he muttered, answering on speaker as he started dressing.
"Yo, Noah!" Cole’s voice was lively but curious.
"What’s up, man? Why the early call?" Noah asked, buttoning the stiff shirt, catching his amber eyes in the chipped mirror.
"Dude, where were you last night? Forgot the party?" Cole asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.
"Nah, I told you I couldn’t come," Noah said, struggling with the tie. "What’s up? Something wild happen?"
"Yeah, wild’s the word. Your girl…" Cole’s voice lowered.
Noah froze mid-button, his reflection tensing. "What? Elara? Is she okay?" His voice tightened with worry.
"She’s fine, not like that," Cole said quickly.
Noah exhaled, relief brief. "Don’t freak me out, man. So what’s the deal? She get crazy or…?"
"She cheated on you, bro," Cole said, blunt and heavy.
Noah’s smile vanished, his hand stilling. The words hit like a punch.
"Say that again, Cole?" he asked, voice low.
Before Cole could respond, a sharp knock cut through. "Noah, hurry! Madam Celeste’s coming!" Miss Valerie’s voice was frantic.
Noah’s heart raced. He hung up, shoved his feet into the polished shoes, and rushed out, Cole’s words searing like a fresh wound.
The Adrian mansion’s ballroom was a gilded prison, chandeliers casting a warm glow over silk-draped tables. Verrath City’s elite glided through, men in sharp suits, women in glittering gowns, their laughter hollow and cutting.
Servants slipped through like shadows, balancing trays of champagne and delicate pastries. Noah, in his rigid waiter’s uniform, moved through the crowd, his forced smile a brittle mask.
His amber eyes scanned for Celeste’s glare, Cole’s words—"She cheated on you"—looping in his mind, tangled with memories of his mother’s bloodied form in the hospital, her stillborn daughter beside her.
He offered a flute to a guest, his smile strained, when whispers reached him. A cluster of women in sparkling dresses stood nearby, their voices dripping with malice.
"Isn’t that Celeste’s husband’s nephew?" one said, her tone falsely pitying. "Poor thing."
"Yeah," another added, sipping her drink. "His mother was delusional. Killed herself and her baby, thinking she could seduce her way into this family. Pathetic."
Noah’s fist tightened, the tray shaking in his other hand. His jaw clenched, rage burning through him. His mother, Fionna, who’d soothed his nightmares, reduced to their vicious lies. He stepped toward them, his smile gone, ready to snap, when a sharp voice sliced through.
"There you are, you little wretch!" Madam Celeste’s voice was venomous, her blue eyes locking onto him as she emerged from the crowd, h
er gown swishing like a predator’s tail. The room seemed to quiet, all eyes on Noah, pinned under her glare.
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Chapter 84
Cameron glanced at Paul and Dallas, who both nodded, and then said, “We know how much you love Catherine.”“Don’t make her a saint, John. She isn’t perfect,” Dallas said.“Jeez, that was cold,” Paul muttered.“It’s okay. I know Catherine isn’t perfect. She has her quirks, just like we do. Who isn’t a little compulsive about something?” he said. “It’s just that she worries about being without, and so she has to have two of everything. She has two television sets, identical ones, sitting side by side on the table by her bed. She has one of them on day and night, but she worries it might break, so she makes sure she has a backup. She does the same thing when she’s ordering something from a store or a catalog. Always buys two, but what’s the harm in that?” he asked. “She isn’t hurting anyone,
Chapter 83
The first one was a mercy killing.She was dying a very, very slow death. Each day there was a new indignity, another inch of her once magnificent body destroyed by the debilitating disease. Poor, poor Catherine. Seven years ago she had been a beautiful bride with a trim, hourglass figure men lusted after and women envied, but now her body was fat and grossly bloated, and her once perfect alabaster skin was blotchy and sallow.There were times when her husband, John, didn’t recognize her anymore. He would remember what she used to look like and then see with startling clarity what she had become. Those wonderful sparkling green eyes that had so captivated him when he’d first met her were now glazed and milky from too many painkillers.The monster was taking its time killing her, and for him there wasn’t a moment’s respite.He dreaded going home at night. He always stopped on R
Chapter 80
The place was a pigsty. The dining room table was covered with an old, torn, paint-splattered tarp, and on top were several unopened cans of house paint and a couple of big plastic sacks from the local hardware store with paintbrushes sticking out. A swinging door connected the dining room to the kitchen, exactly like the one in Celeste’s house. Noah pushed the door open and then stepped into the kitchen.The first thing that struck him was the pungent smell. It was strong, acrid . . . familiar. Whatever the stringent combination was, it made his eyes tear and his throat burn. Unlike the other rooms, the kitchen wasn’t cluttered. No, it was immaculate. The counters were bare, spotless, shining . . . like another kitchen he’d been in. Recognition was sudden. He remembered the odor . . . vinegar and ammonia . . . and he remembered exactly where he’d smelled it before. His gaze frantically searched the kitchen. Truth slammed in
Chapter 81
“Known what?”Noah didn’t immediately answer. He was reliving those terrifying moments when he’d crept out onto the balcony and had seen Celeste down below.“I should have figured it out before he had a chance to grab her. And he never should have gotten that chance. Because of my incompetence, Celeste almost lost her life, and Artemis got hit.”Tommy had never seen Noah so shaken. “Stop beating yourself up, and tell me what happened. What should you have known?”Noah rubbed his brow and leaned back against the wall. His gaze was glued to the curtain. He told Tommy everything, and when he was finished, Tommy needed to sit down.“My God, you both could have been killed.” He expelled a long breath and then stood. “You know I’d tell you if I thought you screwed up.”&ldqu
Chapter 82
Ever so slowly she moved her legs up, thinking she could turn and spring upward, grab him by the neck, and then slam his head into the steering wheel. But something was holding her. Her skirt was caught. She was afraid to turn her head and look for fear that he would see.The van suddenly came to a jarring stop. She did drop the safety pin then, but she grabbed it from the floor before she heard the door open. Where was he going? What was he going to do?Oh God, he’s coming for me.She had to be ready. When he tried to get her out of the van, she would have to be ready. Frantic, her hands violently shaking now, she hooked the pin around her middle fingers, just above the knuckles. The metal fastener dug into her skin, tearing it as she hooked it there, anchored so that the long needle was sticking straight out. She cupped her left hand around it, trying to hide it.Don’t let
Chapter 81
The screams from the crowd, frantic to get out of the church, pierced the air. The aisles were crammed with hysterical men and women. Noah had his Sig Sauer in his right hand, and as he pushed forward, knocking people out of his way, he reached behind him under his jacket and pulled out the loaded Glock from his waistband. He leapt onto a pew and opened fire. Running along the tops of the benches, he fired the guns in succession, trying to keep the bastard pinned down.Stark ducked behind the railing. What was happening? The blond-headed priest had pulled out a gun and started shooting at him, and he’d been able to get off only a few shots. He’d seen Father Tom go down, then the other priest, and he was sure he’d hit both of them.Now he had to get Celeste. Stark inched the gun up and got her in his sights. She was down on her knees at the bottom of the altar steps. She was struggling to get up when he fired.
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