Chapter 3
915 Words
Reginald Ashbourne rose slowly from his seat, the faint creak of his cane echoing through the suffocating silence. His sharp, calculating eyes swept across the grand hall, taking in the shattered order before him.
Guards lay sprawled across the polished marble, groaning, broken, and too terrified to rise.
His grip tightened.
The veins on his hand bulged as his knuckles turned pale.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice booming with authority that had ruled this household for decades. “Who are you… and how dare you storm my estate and reduce it to this disgrace?”
Not a single guest dared to speak.
They had seen arrogance before.
They had seen power abused, influence flexed, and dominance asserted.
But this—
This was something else entirely.
This was a man walking into the lion’s den… and standing unshaken.
Reginald’s gaze sharpened, his voice dropping into something far colder.
“Give me one reason,” he said slowly, each word heavy with killing intent, “why I should not have your head placed at my feet tonight.”
Kael stepped forward.
Unhurried.
Unbothered.
As though the threat meant nothing.
“It has been a long time… Chairman Ashbourne,” he said calmly. “I see time has not changed you. Men like you rarely do… not even after twenty-five years.”
A flicker of confusion crossed Reginald’s face.
His eyes narrowed as he studied the man more closely.
“Do I know you?”
Kael smiled faintly.
But there was no warmth in it.
“Of course you do,” he replied. “I was once your property. Your entertainment. A boy who existed only to be beaten, mocked, and discarded.”
A pause.
“The one you believed was too insignificant to remember.”
Reginald’s breath caught.
His entire body stiffened.
“…Kael?”
The name struck like thunder.
Gasps exploded throughout the hall.
Every single person present knew that name.
Years ago, the Varric household had been wiped out in a single night. The survivors had been scattered, sold, erased from existence.
Among them—
A boy.
Beaten.
Broken.
Humiliated.
Rumors had followed him like shadows.
That he had been tortured within these very walls.
That the Ashbourne heirs had treated him as nothing more than a plaything.
And darker whispers…
That he had defiled a member of this very family.
That he had vanished hours before his execution.
That the truth had been buried.
Reginald slammed his cane violently against the marble floor, the c***k echoing like a gunshot.
“You filthy animal!” he roared, pointing the cane directly at Kael. “You dare show your face here after what you did? You corrupted my granddaughter! You fled like a coward, escaping the punishment you deserved!”
His voice trembled with rage.
“But tonight… I will finish what should have been done years ago.”
Kael’s expression did not change.
Not even slightly.
“I see,” he said quietly. “You still find it convenient to rewrite your crimes.”
He stepped forward again.
Closing the distance.
“But I did not come here for your version of the past.”
His voice hardened, every syllable carrying weight.
“I came for my daughter.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The words fell like a hammer over the entire hall.
“My daughter,” Kael repeated. “Where is Lyra?”
The name alone seemed to suffocate the room.
Lyra.
A name that should not exist.
A child that had been erased.
Hidden.
Denied.
Her mother—Isabella Ashbourne—had once been the pride of this family. Groomed for a powerful political marriage that would elevate their influence even further.
That alliance had shattered the moment the truth surfaced.
The groom back then—
Was the elder brother of the man she was meant to marry tonight.
Kael’s gaze darkened.
“Where is she?” he asked again, his voice low but far more dangerous. “What have you done to my daughter?”
Reginald sneered, though something uneasy flickered beneath his anger.
“You dare ask about that child?” he spat. “You abandoned everything. You forfeited whatever right you think you have. And now you walk in here, disrupting my family’s celebration as if you belong?”
He turned sharply, his voice cutting through the tension.
“Darius.”
A broad-shouldered man stepped forward immediately, his presence radiating authority and strength. His gaze locked onto Kael, filled with hostility.
“Throw them out,” Reginald ordered coldly.
Damien moved at once, stepping between Kael and the approaching man like an immovable wall.
“This is your final warning,” Damien said, his voice quiet but lethal. “Old man… where is the little princess?”
Darius sneered, stepping forward without hesitation.
“You’ve got some nerve walking in here—”
He never finished the sentence.
Kael moved.
No one saw the start.
No one saw the motion.
They only heard it.
A sharp, slicing sound that cut through the air like a whisper of death.
Darius froze.
His eyes widened.
His mouth opened as if to speak—
But no sound came out.
A thin red line appeared across his throat.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.
Then—
It split.
Blood followed.
His body staggered backward before collapsing heavily onto the marble floor.
The impact echoed.
And then—
Screams erupted.
Pure chaos exploded across the grand hall.
- Writer
