Page 127 of Ruthless God

A shiver runs down my spine.

Because the way she says it…it’s not just a warning.

It is a threat.

But before anything else can be asked, the doorbell chimes.

26

Cecely

Claudius looks at me. “That will be your father.”

My stomach tightens, my pulse pounding in my ears. I should have been ready for this. But now that it’s actually happening… I feel like I’ve just been shoved into ice water.

Agnes recovers first.

“I can let Mr. Blanc in.” Her voice is even, but something about it feels… off.

Claudius doesn’t even look at her. His attention is still locked on me.

His voice is calm, controlled. “You’ve done enough, Agnes. You may retire to your room.”

Silence.

I see the flicker in her expression. Just for a second. But then, just as quickly, she smooths it away.

“As you wish, sir.”

She gives me one last look. And then she disappears down the hall.

Claudius turns toward the door, rolling his shoulders back. Readjusting. Centering himself. Like he’s preparing for war. And maybe he is.

He glances at me. “Are you ready?”

Am I? No. Absolutely not. But I lift my chin anyway.

“Let’s go meet my dear old dad.”

He gives me a long look and then nods. He takes my hand, gently looping our fingers together. The moment his skin brushes against mine, something shifts. My pulse flutters. For a second, I wonder if I should pull away. But I don’t.

Instead, I let him lead me to the door. He opens it, stepping aside. Standing in the doorway is an older man, his face weathered with years and decisions I can’t begin to understand. Beside him is a woman, her posture prim and perfect, as if she’s been taught to always look composed, even in the most uncomfortable situations. Like this. Behind them are two women close to my age. Their faces almost mirror images of my own features. I meet their gazes.

My lips part in surprise.

There’s no denying that we’re somehow related. They’re my sisters. The resemblance is too obvious to ignore.

But before I can process it all, the older man’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Fucking hell, Irons. You were supposed to hide her until later.”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks—shocking, harsh, and full of anger. I feel Claudius’ grip on my hand tighten, but he doesn’t flinch.

“This is the time, Blanc.” His voice is icy, controlled.

I want to speak, but my mouth goes dry.

This man—this father of mine—seems to have the same icy, calculating demeanor that Claudius does. But there’s something different, something darker about him.

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