ANMELDENVIVIENNE'S POV:They just look at me like I am a nuisance, a bitter old woman making noise because she lost her grip on power."She is still lying.""When will she stop?""She is pathetic."I have nothing left, no allies, no resources and also no hope.**ELARA'S POV:**I watch Vivienne's final interview on the news and I feel nothing.The screen flickers in the quiet room, showing her standing outside in the cold wind, her face pale and her clothes looking slightly rumpled.She is standing in front of the cameras, her face streaked with tears, her hands clasped in front of her. She looks frail and broken and pathetic. She is trying to destroy us one last time.Her theatrical tears do not affect me anymore, and her desperate claims sound hollow, lacking the terrifying power they used to carry.But no one believes her anymore. The media has turned against her. The public has seen the truth. She is alone and defeated.I watch the bottom ticker of the news channel roll pas
VIVIENNE'S POV:I can see that I am losing.I stare at the peeling paint on the wall across from me, my hands trembling as I try to hold onto whatever small piece of control I have left.That is the thought that circles through my head over and over again, a loop that will not stop, a record that keeps skipping back to the same moment. I am losing. My plan has failed. The public no longer believes my lies.I can hear the loud ticking of the cheap plastic clock hanging near the kitchen sink, every single second sounding like a countdown to my absolute ruin.The headlines have turned against me. The same tabloids that were once eager to print my stories are now calling me a fraud. The same reporters who once listened to my every word are now ignoring my calls. The same public that once sympathized with me is now condemning me.They do not even check my emails anymore, dropping my name from their front pages as if I am nothing more than bad news they want to forget."Vivienne Tho
LYSANDER'S POV: He pulls back. His eyes are wet. "I love you, Dad," he says. "I love you too, son.” * * ELARA'S POV: * * I am sitting on the couch, holding my mother's hand, and I feel like I can finally breathe. The weight that has been pressing down on my chest for days is finally lifting. The fear that has been living inside me is finally fading. My parents know. They know about us. And they do not hate me. I look at Alistair. He is sitting beside me, his hand in mine. His eyes are bright with relief. He looks like a man who has just been given a second chance. I look at my mother and she is smiling. "Elara," she says. "I want you to know something. I have always loved you. I will always love you. And I will always support you." I squeeze her hand. "Thank you, Mom." She leans in and hugs me again. "We will get through this," she says. "Together. As a family." I nod. I believe her. My father stands up. He walks over to Alistair and puts his hand on hi
CELESTINE'S POV: "And it is not because of who you love," I continue. "But because you did not trust me enough to tell me." She starts to cry. "I am sorry. I was so scared. I thought you would hate me. I thought you would hate us." I pull her into my arms. I hold her tight. "Elara," I say. "I am still your mother. I will always love you. Both of you." I look at Alistair. His gray eyes are wet. "You and him are not related," I say. "Not by blood. So I do not see the harm. If you love each other, then that is all that matters." Elara hugs me tight. Her whole body is shaking. "Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you, Mom." I hold her. I stroke her hair. I think about all the years we have spent together. All the tears, all the laughter, betrayals and all the love. "You are my daughter," I say. "I will always love you." * * LYSANDER'S POV: * * I watch my wife embrace my daughter, and I feel something shift inside me. A knot in my stomach that has be
CELESTINE'S POV:A Few Days Later…The car pulls up to Alistair's London penthouse, and I sit for a moment, staring at the modern glass building that rises against the gray sky. The tall structure gleams cold and sharp in the dim afternoon light. The city hums around us, traffic and sirens and the distant murmur of millions of lives being lived. But inside this car, there is only silence. A heavy, suffocating silient that feels like it might snap at any second.Lysander is beside me. He reaches over and takes my hand. His fingers are warm and steady, grounding me in a way that only he can."Are you ready?" he asks.I squeeze his fingers. "I have to be."We get out of the car. The doorman recognizes us and ushers us inside without a word. The elevator ride is silent, the soft buzz of the machinery the only sound. I watch the numbers climb higher and higher, digital red digits flashing on the wall, and I feel my heart pound harder and harder against my ribs.I do not know what I
ELARA'S POV: Every picture feels like a violent invasion, proving that someone was hiding nearby, watching our private moments through a camera lens. The article is filled with speculation and scandal. It calls our relationship incestuous. It calls us disgusting. It calls the Ashcroft family a den of secrets and lies. "Shocking Secrets of the Ashcroft Family Exposed." "Incest Scandal Rocks Ashcroft Family." My phone buzzes again. And again. And again. The notifications keep coming. Messages from friends and colleagues and people I have not spoken to in years. The comments are brutal. People who know nothing about our lives or our history feel completely justified typing out awful insults under every picture. "I cannot believe you would do that." "You are disgusting." "How could you sleep with your own brother?" "Shame on you." I feel sick. I feel dizzy. I feel like I am going to throw up. The air leaves my lungs all at once, making my head spin as I try despera
Celestine Valancourt stood in the bathroom of her penthouse apartment, her bare feet cold against the imported marble floor, staring at a little plastic stick that had just completely and utterly rearranged her entire universe. There were two little pink lines staring back at her. Two little lines
KIER'S POV:I pour myself a drink and I sit in the dark and I wait for her to come back.She always comes back.But she does not come back.A week passes. Then another. The penthouse stays empty. My calls go straight to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. I send messages through her email, through s
She watched from the window as her father walked out to greet him.August Valancourt shook Lysander's hand with both of his, the way he did with people he truly respected, and he said something that made Lysander nod solemnly. Then her mother appeared, and Isabelle kissed Lysander on both cheeks, t
The forgotten anniversaries. There had been three of those. Three times she had dressed up nice and made dinner and waited and waited and waited until finally getting a text that said "working late sorry" with no exclamation points, no emojis, no nothing.The cruel comments. Those were worse."You







