Chapter 3

The café was a relic from another century—all dark wood and velvet curtains, tucked into an alley that most humans walked past without noticing. It catered exclusively to our kind, the windows spelled against sunlight, the menu offering things no mortal establishment would dare serve.

I arrived first and took the booth in the farthest corner, my back to the wall. Old habits. Damien had always mocked me for it, called it paranoia unbecoming of a Lady. Now I understood why he'd wanted me careless.

Eliza Blackwood swept in exactly on time, her auburn hair pinned in an elegant chignon, her charcoal suit sharp enough to cut glass. She was a solicitor—one of the best in the supernatural courts—and she had been my closest friend since before my turning. When I'd been human, drowning in a world I didn't understand, she had been the one to pull me to shore.

She slid into the seat across from me, her keen eyes sweeping over my face. Whatever she saw there made her expression harden.

"You look like hell, Sera."

"Charming as always." I pushed the encrypted drive across the table. "Everything's on there. His affair. The child. And..." My voice faltered. "Medical records. He's been drugging me, Eliza. For six years."

Her composure cracked. I had never seen Eliza Blackwood look shaken, but in that moment, something flickered behind her careful mask—horror, then fury, cold and absolute.

She picked up the drive, turning it over in her fingers. "Tell me everything."

So I did. Every detail, every document, every photograph burned into my memory. By the time I finished, her jaw was set like iron.

"This is blood oath violation of the highest order," she said quietly. "Under coven law, what he's done—the deception, the deliberate harm to his bonded mate—it's grounds for dissolution. Possibly execution, if the Elders feel vindictive."

"I don't want his death." The words surprised me even as I spoke them. "I want his ruin. I want him to watch everything he built crumble around him while he's still alive to feel it."

Eliza's lips curved into something almost like a smile. "Now that I can work with."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then: "There's more, isn't there? You wouldn't have contacted me just for the affair."

"I found financial records in his study. Large sums funneled through shell accounts—all traced back to that florist's boutique. The amounts don't make sense. Far more money than any flower shop could possibly need."

"Money laundering?"

"Maybe. Or something worse." I leaned forward. "I need you to dig deeper. If Damien's been siphoning coven funds, the Elders will have no choice but to act—personal loyalties be damned."

Eliza nodded slowly. "Give me twenty-four hours."

Her call came the following evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

"Sera." Her voice was tight with barely contained rage. "You need to sit down for this."

I gripped the arm of my chair until the wood groaned. "Tell me."

"The money trail goes deeper than we thought. Millions have been moved through those shell companies over the past six years. But here's the part that's going to hurt." She paused. "The original source accounts? They're registered to the Ashford family trust."

The room tilted.

"My parents," I whispered.

"Every transfer is co-signed by your father. And there are emails, Sera. Correspondence between your parents and Damien dating back to before your bonding ceremony. They knew about Vivienne. They knew about the child. They helped him plan this."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"There's more." Eliza's voice softened. "I found photographs in the financial archives—expense reports for 'family gatherings' you were never invited to. Christmas at the Thorne residence. Sebastian's birthday parties. Your mother is in half of them."

I remembered last Christmas. The empty seat at our table. My mother's voice on the phone: So sorry, darling, the weather's made travel impossible. Next year, I promise.

She had been thirty miles away, watching another woman's child open presents.

"Sera? Are you still there?"

"I'm here." My voice sounded distant, hollow. "What do I do now?"

"Now?" Eliza's tone sharpened into something fierce. "Now we destroy them. All of them. The Blood Moon Conclave is in two weeks—every Elder, every house head, every vampire of consequence will be in attendance. If you expose Damien there, publicly, before the entire coven..."

"He'd have nowhere to hide."

"Exactly. The Elders protect their own, but they protect their reputation more. A Lord who violated his blood oath, drugged his Lady, and committed financial fraud? They'll tear him apart just to prove their own integrity."

I stared at the wall, seeing nothing. My parents' faces swam before me—my mother's soft smile, my father's proud eyes when Damien had asked for my hand. Had any of it been real?

"There's one more thing," Eliza said carefully. "I had a contact pull the medical analysis on that compound Damien's been giving you. The damage to your system..." She trailed off.

"Say it."

"It's irreversible, Sera. Whatever chance you had of bearing children—it's gone. Permanently."

I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, something had shifted. The last fragile thread connecting me to the woman I used to be had finally snapped.

"Send me everything," I said. "Every document, every photograph, every transaction. I want copies on three separate drives."

"Already done. And Sera? Whatever you're planning—I'm with you. All the way to the end."

I ended the call and sat in the darkness for a long time.

Damien thought he knew me—the quiet, devoted wife who smiled at his lies and drank his poison without question. He had no idea what I was capable of.

But he was about to find out.