CHAPTER 94: WHAT CAN GO WRONG

Eleanor’s POV

The memory of last night was a persistent, aching thrum beneath my skin. The heat of his hands,the way my body had arched against the restraints, begging for more... only for it all to stop so abruptly. The disappointment was a physical pang, a hollow ache of unmet need.

He’d said it wasn’t me. He’d murmured about a painful memory, something my words had triggered, and that he didn’t want to hurt me. I believed him. I did.

But a treacherous, insecure part of me wondered if that was just a kind excuse. Had the fire in him for me burned out so quickly? The thought was a cold splash of water. Should I even be surprised?

I shook the thought away, physically tossing my head as if I could dislodge it. Today was a new day. I had a plan, a simple one: get those suppressants from sir Alfred, focus on my training at the track, and most importantly, stay far, far away from the Shadowmere family. The last thing I needed was for my evil, royal bloodline to discover their misplaced heir.

Nothing could possibly go wrong with such a straightforward plan. Right?

Stepping out of my room, I turned the corner in the hallway and froze. Scarlet was emerging from her own room, her eyes locking onto mine with a venom that could curdle milk.

My first instinct was to look down, to scurry past and pretend I hadn’t seen her. But my feet felt rooted to the spot. She started walking toward me, each click of her heels on the marble a ominous tick of a clock. A primal voice in my head screamed at me to run.

She stopped directly in front of me, her perfume a cloying, expensive cloud. "Don’t get too comfortable in this house," she said, her voice a silken threat. "I’m just waiting for the perfect moment for your little fraud to be exposed. And you will be thrown out."

I said nothing. I couldn’t find the words. But I also refused to look away from her deadly glare. A strange, hot spike of hatred pierced through my usual anxiety. Who was she to look at me like I was garbage?

Who does this bitch think she is? Beatrice snarled in agreement, her fury a hot echo in my mind.

Scarlet’s lips curled. "I don’t know what you’ve done to convince the triplets you’re not the whore you clearly are. I know you went to that club last night. They know, and they’ve done nothing. That’s not like them." Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine confusion mixing with her rage. "When I find out why, I will destroy it."

I remained silent, watching the emotions play across her face—the shock that her words hadn’t broken me, the frustration that I wasn’t cowering, which finally twisted into pure, unadulterated anger. She scoffed, a harsh, ugly sound, and shoved past me, her shoulder connecting with mine in a deliberately painful bump before she strode away.

I rubbed my shoulder, the phantom pain a dull echo as I watched Scarlet’s retreating figure. There was no denying it now; she hated me to the very core of her being.

And why wouldn’t she? In her eyes, I was an imposter who had stumbled into her destined life, a mistake the Moon Goddess had carelessly dropped on her doorstep.

But I knew the truth. The bond, as terrifying and complicated as it was, was real. The searing, soul-rending pain I’d felt when I tried to reject it was proof enough. I never wanted to feel that again.

Shaking off the encounter, I made my way down the grand, double-staircased foyer. As predicted, Sir Alfred was waiting below, his posture as impeccably composed as ever.1

"You’re looking brighter this morning, Miss Eleanor," he remarked, a gentle note of inquiry in his voice.

"It’s because you’re going to help me with something I’ve been battling," I said, following him toward the dining room. "Unless you’ve changed your mind?"

"I have not changed my mind," he assured me, pulling out my chair. "I only hope you are making the right decision for yourself."

After I finished eating, he discreetly slid a plain white card across the table. "This belongs to a doctor. A woman. She is... discreetly, an enchantress. She creates various concoctions, including the suppressants you seek. I’ve already spoken with her about your situation. You needn’t worry about explanations."

I took the card, my fingers curling around it like a lifeline. I couldn’t wait. After training, this was my first stop. A solution was finally within reach.

***

Scarlet’s POV

I can’t believe it. In all my life, as the sole heir to the Valois empire, no one has ever dared to look me directly in the eye. When I say no one, I mean no insignificant, worthless weakling. So what gives this little mouse not only the audacity to meet my gaze, but to fill it with defiance? As if she isn’t terrified of me? How dare she? I should have her eyes plucked out for that alone.

My phone rings, cutting through the red haze of my fury. It’s Carson, my PA. "The people are here, Miss Valois."

"I’ll be right there," I snapped, ending the call.

But this can’t wait. I need to address this now. I stride up stairs, and go directly to Keith’s room. I knock and he opens the door.

Gosh, he looks so perfect. A perfect powerful god who should be on his knees, likcing my feet, my asshole, anything i desire.

"i want to talk,"

"About what?" he asks, his tone flat, his icy eyes giving nothing away.

"It’s about us. When was the last time we spent any real time together?" I let out a tremor of hurt enter my voice. "Ever since this...this fraud appeared, you and your brothers have had no time for me. It isn’t fair. I’m your mate. I’m craving your touch, your affection. Shouldn’t you be giving me every chance to prove that i’m the only one meant for you all?"

I stepped closer. "Instead, you’re turning a blind eye to Eleanor. A woman who frequents male strip clubs. Shouldn’t her behavior mean something?"’

Keith let out a heavy sigh, the sound full of a bone-deep exhaustion that seemed to weigh down the very air around him. "This situation... it’s taken a toll on all of us. There are complications you wouldn’t understand."

I was fuming internally, but I kept her expression a mask of sweet, concerned devotion. I placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Then help me understand, Keith. Tell me the complications. Let me help you solve this. I’ve forgiven you for pushing me away in the sauna. I just want to be here for you. Please, don’t shut me out."

His jaw tightened. "I’ll tell you when the time is right. For now, just... understand that my brothers and I are dealing with something that can’t easily be explained."

I knew that tone. It was his final word. Pushing further would only annoy him, and his tolerance for me was existing only because of the mate bond he believed in.

"Of course," I said, my voice dripping with false understanding. "No problem. I just hope you find what you’re looking for soon." I gave him a final, lingering look before turning and walking away, my mind already racing with a new, determined motive. I would uncover their secret. And in doing so, I would finally discover the real reason Eleanor Moore was still polluting our home.

***

Later, I found myself in an exquisitely appointed private lounge, though the company made the opulent surroundings feel cheap.

I was sitting across from two people I wouldn’t normally deem worthy to share my oxygen, let alone a conversation.

I turned slightly to Carson, who stood stiffly beside my chair. "What were their names again?" I asked, my voice a bored drawl.

"The Parkers, ma’am," Carson replied. "Dickson and Priscilla."

I’s gaze swept over Eleanor’s pathetic ex-fiancé and her simpering sister. The first plan to publicly ruin Eleanor’s reputation had backfired spectacularly, but I didn’t care about their failures, only their usefulness.

"Your only job was a simple one," I stated, my voice cold. "Destroy her reputation. Instead, it seems you’ve managed to destroy your own." My eyes flicked to Dickson. "Fired, I hear? For not being the competent, intelligent man you claimed to be."

Dickson fell to his knees on the plush carpet, his hands clasped. "I’m sorry! I truly am! We had her! But... she has some kind of power! I don’t know what it was, but I choked me and my men without even touching us! It was unnatural!"

If Carson hadn’t told me that it was true, I would never have believed such a ridiculous story. Eleanor, that mousy little nothing, possessing some kind of telekinetic strangulation power? Preposterous.

It had to be someone else. Someone was backing her, protecting her, and giving her the means to fight back. But who? The triplets? No, I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

"Get up," I commanded Dickson, my voice dripping with contempt. "Your wife is showing more composure than you are, and that’s saying very little." He scrambled back into his seat, a pitiful sight.

I turned my glare to Carson. "And where the fuck is he? I don’t have all day."

A smooth, cultured voice answered not to far away. "My apologies for the delay. I am here."

I looked over to see Mr. Hans gliding into the room. He was in his fifties, impeccably dressed, his public face that of a respected political figure. But I knew him. We all did in certain circles. Mr. Hans, the king of a very dark empire.

He’d taken over the continent’s most lucrative sex slave and trafficking ring—dealing in both humans and supernaturals—after the previous king had mysteriously died sixteen years ago. He bowed slightly.

"I never thought I would be talking to you face to face again," he said, his eyes gleaming with a familiar, predatory light. "It’s such an honor."

Let’s get to business. If you want to deal with a supernatural problem, you use supernatural methods and solutions.

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