Chapter 9

The misplaced Heiress

“I’m Altair.”

Miaelle looked him up and down. Aside from the perfectly tailored suit wrapped around him, she also noticed the watch peeking from beneath his sleeve. And his shoes seemed rather painfully expensive.

Wealth that didn’t need introductions because it assumed the room already knew who it was. Which was strange because she had no idea who he was.

And she should have. Elite circles weren’t that large. Especially not the circles Gabriell spent years trying to claw his way into despite his own wealthy background.

Alastair gestured towards the room. “This is my friend’s place. He lets me stay here sometimes, when I’m a little low on rent.”

Miaelle paused mid thought… What? Him — low on rent? Impossible!

She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the idea, he looked like he’d never known a life without money in his entire life.

He must have read the disbelief plastered across her face, because before she could decide whether to say anything, the next words were already leaving his mouth.

“I know, it’s a bit hard to believe at the moment but it is how it is.” He paused as if deciding on what to say next then, “My boss is kind enough. I wanted a chance to experience what an elite circle felt like and he didn’t hesitate to include me.”

“Your boss.” Miaelle repeated it slowly, like she was turning the words over to check for a seam. “And what does he do, this boss of yours, that he can just — hand out invitations to nights like this?”

“Enough that people don’t ask him twice.” Altair’s mouth curved, easy, unbothered. “I’ve learned not to ask either.”

It wasn’t an answer. She noticed that immediately.

“You’re very good at that,” she said.

“At what?”

“Saying nothing and making it sound like something.”

A tiny smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth, there and gone, maybe, she wasn’t sure what she’d caught. “Occupational hazard, I suppose.”

“Of working for a mysterious boss you’re not allowed to name?”

“Of growing up around people who ask questions they already know the answers to.” He tilted his head. “You, for instance, didn't ask who I was simply because you don’t really want to know.”

Miaelle opened her mouth to argue — and found, annoyingly, that she had nothing to say. He wasn’t wrong.

“I’m not lying,” he added, before she could recover. “Am I?”

A short, disbelieving laugh escaped her before she could stop it — she hadn’t expected her somber self to laugh, not really, not since Gabriell had stood up in front of everyone and —

She cut the thought off.

“No you’re not,” she affirmed. “I’ve simply lost any interest I had in getting to know any new persons at the moment.”

“I prefer it that way sometimes too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. He adds “You know half the people at that banquet tonight built entire careers on lying. You’d know that better than most, I’d imagine.”

Her hands tightened around the mug. “Meaning?”

“First, may I know your name?”

“Lysa… you can call me Lysa.” Miaelle decided she didn’t want to start her new found friendship with someone calling her the same names Mia and Gabriell used.

“Lysa, I know it might not be my place to say this but you don’t strike me as the woman who would involve oneself with men like Keller.”

Miaelle inhales sharply, “and why is that?”

“Anyone with eyes can see he only puts himself and his ego first.” Alastair pauses like he’s trying to rephrase his next statement.

“What I’m trying to say is, what happened today wasn’t your fault and it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Men these days often lack self awareness and that’s pretty embarrassing especially since most are too stupidly proud and sensitive to admit it.”

He said it carefully, not unkindly, watching her the way he’d been watching her all night “I only meant it as an observation. Not an invitation to talk about it.”

“Thanks” her eyes teared up at the words of a stranger who’d only just met her but had been kinder to her than Gabriell had been the last three years. “And I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Very well.”

He didn’t push, didn’t soften it with some practiced apology the way Gabriell would have — a hand on her arm, a murmured ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have’ designed less to comfort her than to be forgiven quickly.

“You’re strange,” she said finally.

“I get that a lot.”

“From your boss?”

“From everyone.” A faint smile. “Occupational hazard, remember.”

She pulled the borrowed coat tighter around her shoulders, aware, suddenly, of how tired she was — not the sharp, adrenaline-soaked exhaustion of the last few hours, but the kind that came after a body finally admitted it had nothing left to give tonight.

“I should probably let you sleep,” he said, catching it before she’d said a word. “There’s a guest room. Second door on the left. Towels, if you want them — everything you’d need should be there.”

“Thank you.” The words came out smaller than she meant them to. “For all of this. You didn’t have to.”

“No,” he agreed. “I didn’t.”

He didn’t explain why he had. She didn’t ask.

She made it as far as the doorway before his voice reached her again, quieter now. “For what it’s worth — whatever happened tonight, it says nothing about you. Only about the people careless enough to let you go.”

She only nodded, once, and let the door close softly behind her.

The guest room was warmer than she expected, the bed impossibly soft beneath the weight of everything she was still carrying. sleep took her almost the moment her head found the pillow.

Rain kept falling outside the window long after she’d stopped hearing it.

Little did she know that by morning, it would be everywhere. Splashed across every gossip page that had ever run a photo of Gabriell Keller, captioned with words like whirlwind and fairytale, Beaumont heiress and Keller’s fifth engaged.

Not one of them would mention the woman who’d run out into the storm twenty minutes before the ring came out, a small mercy perhaps.