Shelia was found abandoned in an alleyway. The girl was bruised and battered from more than just sexual abuse. Kayle was the one who discovered her, no doubt haunted by memories of how he used to treat her. Shelia was little more than a broken shell of a human, her mind fragmented. Perhaps that’s why she clung to Kayle, despite the torment he had inflicted on her. Even the doctor who examined her had recommended he stay by her side. So, despite her feelings toward him, Ravina allowed it. For Shelia’s sake, she let him stay.

“Thank you,” Kayle said quietly as they spoke in hushed whispers outside Shelia’s temporary room. They were staying in a hotel—the manor was too busy, swarming with the count’s servants moving in and out at all hours. It was clear he was hiding something from her, but she wasn’t in a position to ask—not yet. Her private meeting with the man was in a few hours, and she needed to return home. Still, she couldn’t leave without checking on Shelia. Guilt gnawed at her, enough that she had placed tails on the other dropouts, though unlike her, they had all given up.

“I don’t care what you think,” Ravina spat, though she managed to maintain her composure—at least for him. “Just don’t try anything. Jessie will be watching.” The maid she mentioned sat beside Shelia, who was sleeping off the drugs still coursing through her system. Or perhaps she had taken them willingly. Ravina wanted to banish Kayle from her sight, but for now, he was the only thing keeping Shelia anchored. What a twisted relationship.

“I know,” he said softly. “But still, without you, this could’ve been much worse.”

“Don’t forget that,” she snapped, spinning on her heel. “I’ve already got the report from Jessie, so there’s no reason for you to talk to me.” With that, she walked away, pretending not to notice Kayle bowing to her from the corner of her eye. “Absolute scum,” she whispered to herself. Maybe he had changed, but it was still his fault Shelia’s future was ruined. She would never become a mage—not after what she had endured. Her blue blood had been extracted—every drop of it gone. For what? Ravina shuddered at the thought.

The ride back to the manor was short but unpleasant. Lady Red had accepted her terms, and the shadows had delivered information she could use to remove all three male heirs if played correctly. Dahlia was clever—she would know how to run with the information. Though the shadows reported to Ravina first—or second, after the count—some were working directly with Lady Red to ensure she had the tools she needed. Ravina had expected her involvement to be more hands-on, but nobles didn’t fight on the front lines. They maneuvered in shadows, playing a game of cat and mouse. Each strike risked a counter, and if the blow was anticipated, the response could be far more devastating than the initial attack.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

As the carriage slowed in front of the manor, Ravina hesitated, remaining seated even after the driver opened the door. She would either confirm her fears or dispel them. She wasn’t sure which outcome frightened her more.

But she couldn’t delay. Accepting the driver’s help, she stepped out of the carriage and entered the manor. Finding her own way inside, she arrived at the parlor. Alone, she asked a maid to bring her tea and seated herself in a chair facing the open window. The afternoon breeze was pleasant, but it did little to ease the tension knotting her stomach as she stared at the white wall outside, her worry eroding her mood.

Soon enough, the count arrived, accompanied by his usual retinue of servants. Once he was seated and tea had been served, his only command was, “Leave us.” His tone was commanding, his presence as imposing as ever. Even Walter left at his order.

When they were alone, the count fixed his dark, purple eyes on her. “So, what is it you wish to discuss?”

Ravina took a steadying breath, straightening her back. It would be impossible to tell this girl hadn’t been raised as a noble. Her manners were impeccable, her posture flawless. Yet, she was only this exacting in his presence, driven by a lingering fear of being cast out, of her new and comfortable life turning cold and unwelcoming.

“I wish to clarify a few things between us,” she began evenly. “Specifically, the line that separates us as ‘fake father’ and ‘daughter.’ I want to know if I have the full rights of the Ravenshield name.”

The count raised an unamused eyebrow. “I suppose you suspect something sinister behind my generosity?”

“I’m a useful tool,” Ravina said with a nod. “But I need to know how much power I wield. Am I a doll or a daughter? To clarify—do I have the full rights as a daughter of the House of Ravenshield?”

The count hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose it is your right.”

But Ravina shook her head. “I need a clear answer. It will dictate how I proceed. If you want a doll, fine—I’ll play the part. But I’ll need a life to return to when it’s over. If I’m a daughter, then I need to start leveraging the power that comes with it.”

For a brief moment, a sadness flickered across the old Raven’s face. “I understand,” he said finally, taking a sip of tea and leaving Ravina in suspense. “It’s only right that you receive the full benefits as my daughter,” he said at last. “After all, I avoided one outcome because of it, but now it seems the responsibility is shifting to you.”

“What does that mean? Wait, before that…” Ravina hesitated, her voice softening. “Does that mean you’ll support me? As the leader of the house and… as a father?” There was a faint, unspoken hope in her question.

“As a head, yes.” The count tapped his cup. “But as a father… I’ll support you, but I don’t like you.”