Chapter Nine – The Funeral of Trust

The announcement came like a dagger dressed in silk.

Robin Vale’s estate had been transferred in full to Jackson Vale. Ariana’s lawyers flooded the press with poisonous words: “Elara Vale declared dependent and unfit. No legal right to assets until further evaluation.”

By morning, Roverthhood buzzed like a hive.  Elara sensed it in the hallways as heads turned as she went by, whispers clung to her like cobwebs.

“Vale’s ghost finally buried.”

“Dependent? What a joke.”

“She never was fit to inherit.”

They circled like wolves around carrion. And she—she was the carrion, or so they wanted to believe.

Robert discovered her in the shadow of the stone gargoyles of the courtyard. His jaw clenched,  eyes burning of blue fire and the ink still fresh, he pressed  the newspaper into her hands. 

Elara, it's a game.  you have to  realize that?

After  reading the headline several times, each word pressing harder into her ribs. Dependable. Not appropriate. She spoke as if the word  tasted like bile. "My epitaph is now that."

“No.” He stepped closer, voice low and fierce. “This is Ariana twisting strings. She’ll have bribed the board, bought the courts. It won’t stand.”

“Won’t it?” Her laugh cracked sharp. “She’s already taken my father. Now my name. What’s left for her to strip? My bones?”

Robert gripped her shoulders, steadying her. “Listen to me. My family’s lawyers can challenge this. Drag it through the courts. Buy us time.”

staring  at him with  gray eyes hollow with exhaustion. “Time to beg for scraps?”

He shouted, his composure waning, "Now is the time to fight." "You're not alone, I am with you in this."

She feels so emotional  a tiny, delicate thread. "Not by herself," she said softly again but even as she spoke, she could still feel the truth burning in her stomach. She had never been with anyone.

––

The library was a sanctuary full of tall shelves swallowed by quietness and dust lay on the forgotten tomes. Elara tucked herself between history and mythology, seeking silence, seeking air.

The silence broke.

“Well, well. The fallen heiress, still pretending to read.”

Derek Blackthorne leaned against the shelf as his reflection carved into a sharp edge in the shadow with green eyes glittering like a predator and shining  curly black hair.

Elara shut her book without looking at him. “Leave me.”

“Why? I'm not the answer to your prayer?” He sank into the chair opposite her sprawling as if  he owned it. “I can help you get back your lost crown Vale.”

She lifted her eyes, her patience thinning. “What are you selling?”

“Not selling.” He smirked, leaning closer. “Offering. My father’s reach makes Ariana look like a petty thief. Marry me, bind yourself to me, and the Vale empire is yours again. Instantly.”

Her blood chilled, then flared. “Yours again? You mean mine as long as you hold the leash.”

He grinned wider. “A leash, or a crown. Depends how you wear it.”

Fire flickered faintly across her fingertips, the book cover beneath her palm warming. “I’d sooner burn it all to ash than bend to you.”

His voice dropped, silk over steel. “That defiance is why I want you. You’ll break. Everything beautiful does.”

She scraped back the chair as she stood up, the fire burning hotter in her. “Try again, Derek, and I will make sure you  leave with scars you cant heal from.”

He laughed low, dark, the sound slithering under her skin. “Rejection only makes the hunger sharper, Elara. Remember that.”

––

By dusk, Alice made her move.

Notes slipped under doors, passed hand to hand, until the academy hummed with scandal. Forged letters—Elara’s name scrawled at the bottom—professing desperate love for Robert Sinclair. “Your fortune is my salvation. Bind me, and I’ll give you devotion.”

When Robert stormed into her dorm, his fists clenched around the bundle, Elara already knew.

He threw the papers onto her desk. “Explain this.”

She glanced once. Forgery. Amateur, but good enough to poison eager minds. “Lies,” she said flatly.

“They’re everywhere. Students whisper you’re—”

“Stop.” She snapped it sharp, stepping toward him. “Do you believe this, Robert? That I’m begging for your money with ink-stained hands like some merchant’s daughter?”

His chest heaved, anger warring with hurt. “I didn't want to. But they—”

“They?” Her voice cut like glass. “Do you trust them, or me?”

The fight drained from his eyes loosening his grip on the papers until they scattered  to the floor. Shame painted his features. “I should have trusted you first.”

Her lips curved bitterly. “Yes. You should have.”

There was a deep silence and   before he reached for her hand. She pulled back, not cruelly, but enough to remind him that trust once cracked doesn’t mend so easily.

––

Night pressed heavily. Elara drifted half-asleep in her bed, her mind haunted by flashes of her father’s voice. They’ll try to take everything, little flame. Don’t let them take you.

The sound came like a nightmare’s whisper.

Metal scraping wood.

Her eyes flew open. A shadow moved at the edge of her bed.

The blade caught the moonlight  sliced through her sheets and tore the mattress where she laid her chest. She rolled and she fell to the ground scrambling  backward, and  screamed stuck in her throat.

With the knife aimed at her ribs, the intruder made another silent, accurate lunge.

The intuition bellowed.  The air was filled with flames, and the walls were pierced by blazing light from the fire shooting out of her body will and uncontrolable,  the assassin flinched, his arm raised against the flames before crashing through the window and vanishing into niggt.

The walls turned black, the sheets smoldered and the smell of charred wood filled the air. Elara's hands were still burning, her breath larbored and smoke curled from her hair.

The students raised their voice as they hammered down the hallway. “Robbery—thief—someone broke in!”

But Elara knew.

This wasn’t theft.

This wasn't an accident.

This was an execution.

Her stepmother’s reach had crossed walls, guards, oceans.

Ariana Vale wasn’t content to erase her name.

She wanted Elara Vale dead.