Page 67 of Blood Heir

I looked at Serevin, silently begging him to deny it. To fight for me. But he stood there—stone still. Eyes down. Silent.

“You knew,” I had whispered, barely audible. “You knew before we married.”

His silence was the answer. His silence was the knife.

Vittoria had smiled. “Do you see? You were never his wife, dear. You were his pawn. And now? Now you belong to us. Your routes. Your assets. Your name. All of it.”

She slid a folder toward me. Thick, official, stamped with signatures I didn’t recognize.

“While you were busy playing house, your loving husband here made several quiet amendments to your holdings. Your father’s estate belongs to him now. To us.”

I couldn’t breathe. The room had grown smaller, darker.

“But we are merciful,” she continued sweetly. “You have two choices. You sign everything over formally, and I’ll deposit more money into your account than you could spend in ten lifetimes. You leave quietly. Or…” Her smile sharpened like a blade. “I reveal your little scandal to the council. And you, poorchild, will have to stand before the Families and convince them you are fit to inherit anything. Do you think they will take you seriously? A bastard from a brothel? Or do you think they’ll follow the man who already holds your father’s empire in his pocket?”

Emilia had been smirking then, smug and triumphant.

Cassian hadn’t moved. Serevin hadn’t flinched.

I had no allies.

I remember my voice breaking as I asked Vittoria one final question:

“Why now?”

Her answer still rings in my ears.

“Because you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

The memory slams into my chest so hard I can’t breathe.

I drop the diary onto the vanity table, my entire body shaking.

He used me.

Serevin. The man I—

I loved. I gave him everything. My name. My trust. My body.

He knew.

He knew it all and let me stand there like a fool, while his family stripped me bare.

I stumble away from the mirror, chest tightening, vision swimming with saltwater tears. My knees hit the floor hard, but I don’t feel it. The ache inside me burns far worse.

They all played me.

The man who was supposed to protect me was the sharpest blade pressed to my throat.

I squeeze my fists into my hair, curling into myself as waves of betrayal wash over me. It wasn’t just the lie. It was everything—the marriage, the silence, the gentle hands that touched me while hiding a dagger.

The love I thought I had—

It was never real.

The rage twists with the heartbreak, an unbearable knot in my chest.

No more.

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