Chapter Two:The Child They Stole

The morning never truly came for Seraphine Vale.

It only replaces the darkness with a colder shade of light.

Steam fills her  bathroom as she stands beneath the steaming water, arms wrapped around herself. Her skin is burning, but she did not step away. If she scrubs hard enough, perhaps the memory would disappear.

A stranger’s steady heartbeat.

A warmth she had never known.

She felt a sense of security she last felt in her mother's arms.

A night she could not undo.

Her heart trembles.

“I didn’t mean to…”

The words drowns beneath the rush of water.

Outside, her bedroom door opens.

Lydia Vale enters quietly, her expression, the same innocent face Her father and the servants know.Anyone watching from the hallway would have seen a caring sister checking on her.

“How are you feeling, sister?” she called gently.

No response.

Water still ran.

Lydia’s gaze drifted across the room — bed, vanity, carpet — until she saw the open clutch near the dressing table.

She picked it up.

She opens  it.

A ring falls from it.

Black gold. Heavy. Ancient crest carved with authority.

Her pupils contract.

So this was the truth.

How could this witch be lucky? What about the gangster she hired?

From the bathroom came the faint sound of unsteady breathing.

Lydia slips the ring into her pocket, a greedy smile forms on her face.

By the time Seraphina steps out wrapped in a robe, Lydia was sitting on the bed with a glass of milk, expression warm and harmless.

“You scared us,” Lydia said softly. “You should drink something.”

Seraphine shakes her head.

“ Do you take me as a fool? You spiked my drink.”

Lydia smiled gently.

“Of course.”

Her eyes contorted into rage. 

“That gangster did a good job on you,the hickeys are catchy”.

“What have I done to you? Why do you hate me so much”, Seraphine demands, crying.

“My father can only have one daughter and an heir and that is me. So getting rid of you is securing my position”.

Lydia then gives the weeping Seraphine a last stare and storms out of the room. 

The truth revealed itself days later.

At dinner.

The table shimmers beneath crystal light. The silverware aligned perfectly. Conversation is polite and hollow.

Seraphine barely touched her food.

A wave of nausea rose suddenly, violently.

Her hand moves to her mouth.

She stands too quickly — the chair scraping loudly against marble — and staggers toward the side corridor.

She did not make it far.

She collapses.

The sound of porcelain shattering echoes through the dining hall.

Harold Vale rises in fury.

“What nonsense is this?!”

But when he saw her pale face and trembling body, anger shifted into alarm.

“Call the doctor!” 

The family physician arrived within the hour.

Silence filled the study as he completed his examination.

Marianne watches with narrowed eyes.

Lydia stood behind Harold, her expression unreadable.

At last, the doctor removed his glasses.

“The young miss is pregnant.”

The words struck like thunder.

Harold explodes from his chair.

“Pregnant?!” His face flushes crimson. “With whose child?!”

Seraphine stares at the floor, shaking.

She had no answer she could give.

She did not even see the man's face. 

Harold slams his fist against the desk.

“Disgraceful! Shameful! You dare bring a wild seed into my house?!”

Marianne said nothing.

Her mind was already calculating.

Lydia steps forward quietly.

“Father… may I speak with you privately?”

Moments later, the three stood alone in the adjoining room.

Lydia’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“She was taken that night,” she said calmly. “A man she does not even know.”

Harold’s face twisted.

“Who?”

Lydia hesitated —then delivered the lie smoothly.

“Lucian Ardent! “

Fear flickers in Harold’s eyes.

Lydia continues,her  voice lowered.

“But the child is valuable.”

Marianne turns slowly toward her daughter.

Lydia removes the black-gold ring from her pocket.

Was this not the same ring the Ardent family issued a search for?

Both adults stiffened.

“This proves his identity,” she said. “And I will take her place.”

Harold recoiled.

“That is madness.”

“The child will be born into power,” Lydia said evenly. “He will never question the mother if the heir is his blood.”

Marianne’s lips curved faintly.

This is truly my daughter. 

Ambition glowed where concern should have been.

Harold trembles.

“If this fails—”

“It won’t,” Lydia said.

Silence hovers.

At last, Harold exhales shakily.

“…Lock her upstairs.”

The decision sealed Seraphine’s fate.

Her room became a cage.

Windows sealed.

Door locked.

Servants silent.

The weeks pass in suffocating stillness.

Meanwhile Lucian was still searching fervently for her. 

At eight months, Marianne personally delivered soup.

“You must eat,” she said gently.

The taste was bitter.

Pain came before midnight.

It spread through Seraphine’s body like tightening iron.

She screamed until her voice became hoarse.

Labor came so early.

Too soon.

Too violent.

A tiny baby voice was heard upstairs. 

She reached out—

Cold hands restrained her.

Darkness swallowed everything.

When she awoke, a nurse placed a still bundle beside her.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispered.

Seraphine’s world came tumbling without a sound.

Days later, Lydia stood before the powerful,ruthless Lucian Ardent holding a newborn boy. His black charcoal black tousled air shines under the sun. The black Armani suit highlights his well toned tall body. Fingers nicely proportioned taps on his watch. His PA, Loyd Archer stands beside him with his custom cold face.

A suffocating gardenia perfume emits strongly from her body— a scent chosen carefully to imitate something she did not possess.

His gaze was cold.

Suspicious.

Disgust visible but restrained.

“You expect me to believe you?” he said quietly.

The child opened his eyes.

Dark. Sharp. Identical.

Same dark hair, dark almond eyes. The only difference was the dark mole under the baby's right eye. 

Loyd breath sharply. The baby looks so much like Young Master. 

A DNA report is conducted right then. 

Lucian uses his power to get the report in less than three hours.

99.99% confirmed. 

Silence ensues between them. 

He did not touch Lydia.

He did not look at her again.

“You will receive status, wealth, and protection,” he said. “Nothing more.”

He took the child into his arms.

Carefully.

Reverently. 

The baby fit so well in his arms like he has always been there. He stopped crying immediately as his father held him. Earlier,he was crying when Lydia held him. He names him Cassian Ardent.

The boy became his priority above all else.

He raised him in a secluded private villa, guarded and cherished. Only occasionally did he bring the child to visit his grandmother, who adored the boy instantly.

But even then, unease lingered.

The scent was wrong.

Yet the child was undeniably his. 

Lydia was confident that even if Lucian investigates the hotel again,she had already bribed some of the workers there.

At the Vale estate, Harold signs the exile papers without emotion.

“You will leave immediately,” he told Seraphine.

She walks alone through the estate gates.

A single suitcase.

No farewell.

Fog covers  the road ahead.

Halfway down the mountain pass, headlights appeared behind her vehicle.

Gunfire shatters the silence.

The driver lost control.

Many masked men approached.

The door was torn open.

A hand seizes her arm—

Then another shot rang out.

A second vehicle cut across the road.

A man steps forward, eyes filled with grief and recognition.

Her mother’s closest friend. He still looks the same as she could remember. Rico Wills had the same tall upright frame just that streaks of Grey hairs are in his dark brown hair now.

He pulls her to safety as chaos erupts.

Later, far away, a message reaches the Vale mansion.

“The target has been eliminated.”

Marianne closes her eyes in satisfaction.

Lydia smiled faintly.

They believed Seraphine Vale was dead.

Night fell as a private plane lifted into the sky.

Seraphine sat beside the window, wrapped in bandages, silent.

The city lights fade below like scattered flames.

She pressed trembling fingers against her empty arms.

Her child is dead.

They had erased her name.

They had buried her alive.

Tears fell.

Then stops.

Her reflection in the dark window no longer looked fragile.

It looked cold.

Reborn.

Her whisper was steady.

“I will come back to avenge  my dead child.”

“ City K,wait for my return”.

The aircraft pierced the clouds.

And the woman they tried to erase vanished into the night — carrying a vow sharp enough to shape destiny.