Chapter 28: A Seed of Suspicion

Vespera

His fingers were digging into my arms so tightly I knew they would leave purplish dark crescents on my skin by morning.

Kasimir was breathing heavily, his broad chest rising and falling against mine in ragged, erratic heaves. The metallic tang of fresh blood and rain radiated off his coat, filling my nostrils, competing with the faint, lingering scent of dry lavender that Greta had left behind in the drafty hall.

"The ledger from the cellar where did you hide it?!" he rasped again, his mismatched eyes wild, bloodshot, and burning with an unhinged, desperate intensity.

I stared up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Only minutes ago, I had wanted to collapse against his chest. I had wanted to lay my forehead in the crook of his neck and tell him everything about the three notched indentation pressed into the polished wax of the parquet floor, about the identical mark stamped into the Persian rug seven years ago where my father’s cold hand had rested.

But looking into Kasimir’s face right now, framed by dark hair and shadows, the terrifying words of his grandmother echoed in my ear with agonizing clarity: He is volatile. When he feels threatened, he burns down everything around him.

"It's in the library," I lied, my voice remarkably steady despite the violent tremor running through my spine. I kept my eyes fixed on his, forcing myself not to glance down at the floorboards between us where the triangular mark still glistened faintly in the pale daylight. "In the locked safe behind the portrait."

Kasimir let out a long, shuddering breath. The frantic edge in his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, though his grip on my arms didn't loosen entirely.

"Good," he growled low in his throat, his forehead dropping until it rested lightly against mine. His skin was scalding hot, damp with sweat and drizzle. "Good. If Soren gets his hands on those financial routing sheets, he’ll use them to freeze every liquid asset we have before we can extract Liesea."

"Did you find her?" I whispered, my voice breaking on my sister’s name. "Kasimir... please tell me you found where they took her."

"Jonas tracked the transport to a private airstrip outside Salzburg," he murmured, his breath hot against my lips. "The plane took off thirty minutes ago for a medical facility in the Bernese Alps. It's heavily fortified, Vespera, but I have men on the ground. I will get her out. I swore it to you."

He leaned in, his dry, warm lips pressing firmly against the corner of my mouth a brief, desperate gesture of possession that made my stomach twist into a hard, painful knot.

I didn't kiss him back. I couldn't.

Every nerve in my body was screaming, pulled taut between the burning heat of his skin against mine and the icy, suffocating dread that was slowly poisoning every breath I took.

I placed my hands gently against his broad chest, feeling the heavy, rhythmic thud of his heart through his blood stained coat. "Kasimir... sit down. You're bleeding."

"It's not my blood," he growled softly, though he allowed me to guide him backward toward the oversized velvet sofa near the fireplace.

He sank onto the cushion, his massive frame folding under sheer exhaustion. The arrogance that usually defined the Iron Chancellor was gone, replaced by a dark, brooding fatigue that made him look human vulnerable, even.

I moved to the low table, pouring a glass of amber whiskey from the crystal carafe with hands that barely felt like my own. I turned and handed it to him, taking a seat on the leather ottoman across from him, keeping a careful two feet of air between us.

Kasimir took a heavy swallow, the firelight catching the sharp, harsh angles of his jaw line.

"She brought you this," I said quietly, pointing with a subtle nod toward the vintage velvet box resting on the low table between us. "A sapphire ring. She said it belonged to your mother."

Kasimir’s gaze snapped to the box. A subtle, softening change came over his features a look of deep, ancient reverence that I had never seen in his eyes before.

"Sophia’s ring," he murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, almost reverent register. He reached out with two fingers, touching the worn velvet with a surprising, fragile softness. "My grandmother kept it in her private safe for twenty years after my mother died. She always said she was holding it for the woman who would stand beside me."

I swallowed the lump of glass in my throat. "You... you care about her very much, don't you? Greta."

Kasimir raised his eyes to meet mine, the hazel irises clear and filled with absolute, unwavering devotion.

"Greta built everything I stand on," he said softly, without a trace of hesitation. "When my parents died in that crash, she was the only one who kept the board from tearing me apart. She raised me in iron, Vespera. She was cruel when she needed to be, yes, but everything she did every sacrifice, every ruthless decision was to protect this family. To protect me."

He took another sip of whiskey, staring into the flames.

"I fight her on business," he continued, a faint, rare smile touching his lips. "She belongs to the old world, and I am building the new one. But my grandmother is the foundation of the Adler name. Without her, none of us would be alive today."

Every word he spoke felt like a heavy steel nail being driven directly into my chest.

He didn't just respect Greta. He worshipped her. She was his anchor, his savior, his absolute truth in a world of cutthroat politics and violence.

If my suspicion was right... if the woman who had raised him had stood over my dying father seven years ago and watched the life drain from his eyes... telling Kasimir wouldn't just break his trust in me.

It would completely destroy him. It would shatter his entire soul into a thousand unrecoverable pieces, forcing him to choose between the grandmother who built him and the contract wife he was trying to save.

And if I was wrong... if I pointed an finger at the matriarch of the Adler empire based on a mark in the wood, Kasimir’s fierce, protective loyalty would instantly turn against me. I would be isolated, unprotected, and entirely at Greta's mercy.

I was completely, utterly alone.

"Vespera?" Kasimir's deep voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. He set his glass down on the side table, his eyes narrowing as he studied my pale, rigid face. "What is it? You look like you're looking at a ghost."

"I'm just tired, Kasimir," I whispered, forcing a faint, painful smile onto my lips as I stood up. "I'm going to go lay down."

I turned toward the grand staircase, my knees shaking beneath my skirt.

I took three steps before my eyes involuntarily drifted back to the polished floor near the doorway to the small, three notched indentation left by Greta’s cane.

The mark was gone.

The soft, antique wax on the parquet floor had been freshly smoothed over, wiped perfectly clean with a damp rag.

And standing near the side entrance, holding a soft velvet dusting cloth in his gloved hands, was Jonas. He looked up at me, his face an unreadable, stony mask as he slowly slid the cloth back into his dark jacket pocket.