The Forgotten Heir

The Fire Beneath The Calm

The gala ended, and Elias's clock of doom began ticking. Soon, they got back home and the smell of impending disaster lingered on the air.

Victoria did not even wait for Elias to take off the black waiter’s uniform. She spun around in the marble ground, her silk gown rustling like dry leaves, and unleashed a torrent of fury.

“You goddamn disgrace! You pathetic, insolent worm!” Victoria shrieked, the volume shaking the crystal above their heads. “Five million dollars! You cost us five million dollars! All because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut and remember that you are nothing! You were my ornament of pity, my reminder to Seraphina of what happens when she doesn’t listen to me! And you ruin it!?”

Preston, predictably, sauntered down the stairs, a triumphant smirk on his face. “Well, Mother, at least now we know the waiter can talk. Too bad all he can say is rubbish. Thorne is pulling out of the deal. Good job, Elias. You’ve proven you’re a liability to the entire family.”

Victoria pointed a trembling, manicured finger at Elias. “You don't deserve the air you breathe in this house! I knew you were a criminal! Now you’re a beggar and a business saboteur!”

Elias stood motionless, allowing the abuse to wash over him. His head still throbbed from the memory flood, and the adrenaline from seeing Dorian’s face was wearing off, replaced by a chilling certainty.

Seraphina finally broke, stepping forward, her eyes flashing with a desperate, protective rage. “Mother, stop! It wasn’t entirely his fault. Thorne was—"

“Silence, Seraphina!” Victoria cut her off sharply, her voice carrying the force of frustration at its peak. “Your defense of this failure is the only thing more embarrassing than his existence! Go to your room! Now! I will deal with him.”

“No! Mother, please. Whatever Elias did was the same thing that I would've done if he hadn't stepped in. I was being marked as a property, mother. Even I would never tolerate that. It's only fair that Elias reacted the way he did because I'm his wife,” Seraphina spoke unapologetically, her eyes burning with the same intensity as her mother's. She wasn't going to back down this time.

“Fine then. Support him all you want. Keep glorifying his uselessness. But just so you know, this ship?” she gestured at everything around them, “is crashing. And it's crashing fast. Since you won't do what you have to do to stop it, better brace yourself for the fucking fall.”

After speaking her mind, Victoria finally stalked away, barking orders at a terrified maid. Preston followed her, throwing one last victorious sneer over his shoulder.

Elias walked quietly to the basement door, stripping off the hated waiter’s coat. He was halfway down the stairs when Seraphina’s voice stopped him.

"Elias, wait!" She had chased after him. "The uniform thing mother did was cruel, granted. But why did you have to confront Thorne? You know what this means for the company! Five million is a huge loss right now. You were supposed to be invisible! You were supposed to endure it!"

She wasn't angry at his defense; she was angry at the consequence. She was angry at the way his action jeopardized the one thing she lived for—her control over the failing family business.

Elias slowly turned around. But the man who turned around didn't have the aura that her husband did. This one felt a whole lot different. Like the upgraded version she hadn't known existed.

His eyes, usually warm for her, now burned with an unmistakable, intense fire.

"Endure what, Sera?" His voice carried a weight she had never heard. "Endure watching that lecher touch my wife? Endure hearing him say you're 'free game'?"

"It’s business! It’s what I have to tolerate for the sake of the company!" she argued, her voice hitting a high pitch.

"No," Elias refuted, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. "It is not."

He took another step. Sera instinctively backed away until her shoulders pressed against the cold, smooth paneling of the hallway wall. Elias stopped inches from her, his body language dominating the space.

He didn’t touch her, but the air between them sparker with electric.

His eyes locked onto hers, burning away her fear and exposing the truth beneath.

"You have endured enough, Seraphina," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, as it gave off conviction and pain. "I have endured my own humiliation because I thought it was what you needed. But I will not stand by. Not anymore. I will not be silent while anyone, regardless of their wealth or position, treats my wife with such disrespect."

He was inches away. She could feel his breath, smell the faint, clean scent of him. He wasn't….he wasn't declaring war on her abusers, was he?

The fire in his eyes was proof that he meant his every word.

"The person you married had no identity, Sera. And I swear to whatever cares to listen, I'm very sorry for that," he continued, the words tearing at his throat. "But that person is gone. I am here now. I remember what it means to be strong. And I will not watch you sacrifice yourself to these pathetic, poisonous people."

This was not the useless son-in-law her mother knew. This was something else entirely: a sudden, terrifying, powerful stranger who claimed to love her.

"Elias," she whispered, her voice barely audible, disbelief dripping off her words. "What… who are you?"

He didn’t answer. He just held her gaze for one last second, hoping she could at least trust him.

Then, he slowly pulled back.

Sera didn't hesitate. Her survival instinct kicked in and she pushed past him fleeing back upstairs, her heart pounding hard against her ribs.

She couldn't bring herself to try understanding the things he'd said back there. What the hell did he mean?

Hours later, the house was silent. Elias lay on his cot in the storage room, wide awake. He was no longer tired; hell, he was buzzing with a cold, clear energy.

The memory of the gala, of Dorian’s face, of the fire and the betrayal, played on an endless loop.

The weight of his true identity—the loss, the power, the responsibility—settled heavily on his shoulders.

He heard the echo of a forgotten voice. Did it belong to his father? Or a last guardian? He couldn't tell.

But the voice was loud and clear in his head.

“Elias. Remember this: If they try to take your power, your first duty is to protect what’s yours.”

The voice faded into the darkness.

Elias remained unmoving as his eyes stayed focused on the ceiling. His mind raced with a million thoughts all at once, it was surprising how even he managed to catch up.

Long story cut short, he'd been betrayed by the one person he called “brother.” Trusting blindly had been his mistake, sure. But trying to take what rightfully belonged to him was Dorian’s mistake.

Nobody took what was his and went scott free. He had been mocked, caged, and used. But he was awake now.

He brought his injured hand up, touching the bandage Sera had wrapped.

His lips barely moved as he whispered a reply to that voice in his head.

“I will.”