Page 43 of Nocturne

At the time, money wasn’t my priority. Escaping the country was. It still isn’t, but now that I’ve decided to adopt Cas, I want him to grow up comfortable.

Iyra won’t share what’s going on with her business, but I know she could use the extra, especially with plans to open two new stores in another city.

I make enough from the university, but I have no idea how much it costs to raise a child genius. Extra money wouldn’t hurt, and I want to give Cas everything he could ever need.

“You need it all?”

“Yes,”

I should’ve done this sooner, but I was too scared Vir might catch wind of it.

It’s stupid, really—he can’t track every transaction in the country. I’ve even set up a convincing ruse about our deaths, planted the right DNA, and bribed the forensic expert for the reports.

Still, I can never be too cautious. One hint of doubt could cost me everything.

It’s been a decade, though. He should’ve accepted that I’m dead. After all, I’ve spent all these years looking over my shoulder, and no one’s ever tried to drag me back.

“Will that be a problem?” I bite my lip, nervous when Div, stays quiet for some time.

“No.”

Okay then.

I wonder how the city is now. I’ve kept myself from any news about my home country, but the pull to return is always there—to live in the place where my parents grew up, in the ancestralmansion passed down through generations, to oversee Ma’s NGOs, to see if people still remember our family.

But the fear of Vir outweighs all those primal urges.

I bet Cas would love Grandpa’s farm. It’s nestled between Ivory Hills, a vast stretch of land so beautiful it’s beyond words. Our whole family spent every holiday there, finding peace and calm absent from the busy city.

Cas would love our family mansion, too. The sprawling structure in the heart of the city was being considered for heritage status. I wonder if it ever happened.

“Hey, Div?”

“Yes?”

“Did the city ever declare our home as a heritage site?”

With the immediate family declared dead and half the property designated for tourism, it should’ve been easy for the city to take over. I ask the question with excitement, but Div’s prolonged silence, punctuated by unnecessary throat-clearing, sends a ripple of anxiety through me.

Div doesn’t sugarcoat. He gives facts, no matter how they land. It’s something I appreciate about him. But if he’s hesitating, how bad could it be?

“Div?” My voice shakes, and he lets out a sigh.

“He took it, Ara.”

My stomach drops, coldness seeping into my veins, and my ears start ringing. How is it possible? How can he, someone who isn’t even that associated with our family by blood, take away our ancestral home?

“How is that possible?”

“The bastard convinced the throne to turn the mansion into one of the secretariats for the capital. It was only used briefly before he manipulated his pawns to pressure the committee into building a new one. After that, the transition from government property to the chairman of the advisory committee was a done deal.”

Hatred. Rage. Crippling sadness.

I cannot concentrate on one emotion because a cocktail of them slithers into my veins.

“What all did he take?”

“Everything. He dissolved your father’s companies into his own and grew them into something unbeatable over the decade. The fucker shut down some of your mother’s NGOs giving lack of funds as a reason and uses some of the bigger ones as a front for money laundering. He even approved the development of your grandfather’s land,”

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