OMEGA DANGER

CHAPTER FOUR

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Dragging his luggage himself Cassiel climbed the marble staircase, feeling exhausted and weary. The hallway seemed to close up on him as he reached the second floor, taking a deep breath he continued until he stopped at his room door. It looked like no one had opened it since he left. Turning the doorknob he opened the door and got in dumping the suitcases on the floor.

Cough...

The air was stuffy and the room covered in dust, cobwebs and darkness. Not a single thing had been moved or touched. Cassiel let out another exhausted sigh.....he seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

He walked towards the windows and opened them along with the blinds, almost jumping out of his skin when a spider landed on his shirt before scurrying off. His mothers decree had rendered him helpless to ask the servants for assistance.

“What a lovely welcome, Mother,” he muttered bitterly. “But I suppose this is deserving for what I've become.”

For a moment, he simply stood there, staring around the room.

It was almost laughable.

This had once been his favorite place in the entire manor.

Now it looked as though time itself had abandoned it.

A thick layer of dust coated nearly every surface. Cobwebs stretched from the corners of the ceiling to the old chandelier, their delicate threads trembling whenever the cold wind slipped through the open windows. Dust bunnies had gathered beneath the furniture, and patches of dark mold crept along one corner of the wall where moisture had seeped through.

His curtains smelled faintly of mildew.

Cassiel stared at them.

“Lovely.”

He rubbed his face.

Of course no one had cleaned it.

Why would they?

He had been gone for years.

And apparently, the Volkov family had decided that if he was foolish enough to return, he could clean up after himself.

His eyes wandered to the small writing desk beside the window.

A thin layer of dust covered it so completely that he could barely see the wood beneath.

He remembered spending entire nights there as a child, writing letters he never had the courage to send to his mother.

Mother, I did well in school today.

Mother, I won a competition.

Mother, I think I made a friend.

He had stopped writing them eventually.

Cassiel looked away.

He dragged one of the suitcases toward the corner and opened it.

His clothes were still damp from the rain.

He picked up an old shirt and stared at it for a moment before tossing it onto the bed.

Then he found a small towel at the bottom of the case.

It was barely enough.

Still, he used it to wipe his face and hair before beginning the miserable task of cleaning.

There was no maid.

No servant.

No one knocking on his door to ask whether he needed anything.

Only Cassiel.

He found an old feather duster inside the wardrobe, sneezing violently the moment he shook it.

“Good heavens.”

He coughed into his elbow.

“This is disgusting.”

He opened the windows wider.

Cold air rushed into the room, carrying the scent of wet earth from outside. The drizzle had reduced to a faint tapping against the glass.

Cassiel began with the bed.

He stripped the old sheets and dragged them into a pile.

Then the curtains.

Then the dusty rugs.

Every few minutes he had to stop to catch his breath.

His body still ached from being thrown onto the pavement.

His ribs hurt.

His head throbbed.

His fingers were numb.

Yet he continued.

He wiped the windows.

Swept the floor.

Scrubbed the mold from the corner of the wall.

He even climbed onto a small stool to reach the highest shelves, nearly losing his balance when the legs shifted beneath him.

“Careful,” he whispered to himself.

The room slowly began to change.

Not much.

But enough.

By the time he finished, his hair was sticking to his forehead and his arms trembled from exhaustion.

Cassiel sank onto the edge of the bed.

He looked around.

It still wasn't beautiful.

But at least it was clean.

He leaned backward and closed his eyes.

For several minutes, he remained there.

Then his stomach growled.

Cassiel opened one eye.

“Oh.”

He hadn't eaten since morning.

He almost laughed.

Even his stomach had better manners than his family.

He changed into a dry shirt, ran a comb through his damp hair, and made his way downstairs.

The dining room was already occupied.

His mother sat at the head of the long table, perfectly composed beneath the warm chandelier light.

Sienna sat to her right.

Several servants moved silently around the room, placing dishes on the table.

Cassiel stopped at the entrance.

For one brief second, nobody noticed him.

Then Sienna looked up.

Her eyes immediately travelled over him.

“You cleaned yourself up.”

Cassiel gave a small nod.

“I thought I should.”

“You look thinner.”

Cassiel hesitated.

“Do I?”

Sienna picked up her glass.

“Quite noticeably.”

Lady Vivian glanced at him.

“Sit.”

Cassiel quietly took his usual seat.

A plate was placed before him.

The smell of roasted meat and herbs made his stomach twist painfully.

He picked up his fork.

For the first few minutes, nobody spoke.

Then Vivian broke the silence.

“I wrote to the Carters.”

Cassiel's hand stopped.

His fork hovered over his plate.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“What did you write?”

“That the Volkov family sincerely regrets the unfortunate circumstances surrounding your departure.”

Cassiel slowly lowered the fork.

“You apologized to them?”

Vivian looked at him as though the answer should have been obvious.

“Someone had to.”

“I didn't do anything wrong.”

Sienna laughed quietly.

“Of course.”

Cassiel looked at her.

“What?”

“You always say that.”

“I didn't.”

“You didn't what?”

“Do anything wrong.”

Sienna leaned back in her chair.

“Four marriages, Cassiel.”

The room seemed to grow quieter.

“You have been married four times.”

Cassiel's fingers tightened around his fork.

Sienna continued.

“Four powerful alpha families have taken you into their homes.”

Her gaze swept over him.

“And every single one has ended with you being returned.”

“I didn't ask them to send me away.”

“No.”

She smiled.

“You simply have a remarkable talent for making people want to.”

Cassiel looked down at his plate.

His appetite disappeared.

Vivian dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

“The Council of Elders has already begun asking questions.”

Cassiel's head lifted.

“What questions?”

“About you.”

His stomach tightened.

“They are questioning why the Volkov family continues to tolerate such humiliation.”

Cassiel stared at her.

“Tolerate?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I am your son.”

Vivian's expression barely changed.

“And that is precisely why this has become complicated.”

Sienna sighed dramatically.

“Do you know how many people are talking about us?”

Cassiel said nothing.

“The Carters are furious,” she continued. “The previous families are still whispering. The Council thinks something is fundamentally wrong with our bloodline.”

“Because of me?”

Vivian's silence answered him.

Cassiel swallowed.

“I'm sorry.”

“There it is again,” Sienna muttered.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth would be refreshing.”

Cassiel stared at her.

“The truth?”

“Yes.”

Sienna leaned forward.

“Maybe you really are cursed.”

The words landed harder than Cassiel expected.

His throat tightened.

Vivian did not reprimand her.

Instead, she said quietly, “There have always been rumors.”

Cassiel looked toward his mother.

“Rumors?”

“That your presence brings misfortune.”

His appetite vanished completely.

“I thought you didn't believe that.”

“I didn't.”

Vivian paused.

“But four marriages are difficult to dismiss.”

Cassiel slowly placed his fork down.

His hands had begun to shake.

“I loved them.”

Sienna snorted.

“You barely knew them.”

“I tried.”

“And they left.”

Cassiel's eyes filled with tears.

He blinked quickly.

“I tried to be a good husband.”

Nobody answered.

The silence was worse than cruelty.

Eventually, Vivian spoke.

“The Council is considering a formal review of your status.”

Cassiel looked up.

“What does that mean?”

“It means your position within the family may be reconsidered.”

His heart stopped.

“My position?”

“You are no longer a child, Cassiel.”

Vivian's voice remained perfectly calm.

“You are the eldest Volkov heir. Your actions affect this family.”

Cassiel stared at her.

“What are you saying?”

Sienna answered instead.

“She is saying that perhaps the inheritance should be restructured.”

Cassiel's face went pale.

“You can't do that.”

Vivian's eyes hardened.

“Why not?”

“Because Father left the estate to both of us.”

“To you and Sienna,” Vivian corrected. “Yes.”

“Then you can't simply remove me.”

“We are not discussing anything yet.”

“But you're considering it.”

Vivian said nothing.

Cassiel pushed himself away from the table.

His chair scraped loudly against the marble floor.

“I haven't even been home for a day.”

“And already the Council is demanding answers.”

“I didn't ask for any of this!”

His voice cracked.

The room fell silent.

Cassiel looked around the table, breathing unevenly.

His eyes burned.

“I didn't ask to be thrown out.”

His voice became smaller.

“I didn't ask for them to hate me.”

Sienna folded her arms.

“And yet here we are.”

Cassiel looked at his plate.

The food remained untouched.

His stomach turned.

“I've lost my husband. My home. My reputation…”

His voice trembled.

“And now you want to take away the only thing I have left.”

Vivian's expression remained unreadable.

“The estate is not yours simply because you are unfortunate.”

Cassiel flinched.

Sienna reached for her wine.

“Besides, perhaps it would be better if you stopped pretending you belong here.”

Cassiel looked at her.

For several seconds, he simply stared.

Then he pushed his chair back.

“I've lost my appetite.”

“You barely ate anything,” Vivian observed.

“I know.”

He turned away.

“Cassiel.”

He stopped.

Vivian's voice followed him across the room.

“The apology letter will be delivered tomorrow.”

Cassiel closed his eyes.

“Understood.”

“And you will sign it.”

His shoulders fell.

“Yes, Mother.”

He walked out.

Behind him, Sienna waited until his footsteps disappeared before speaking.

“Do you really think we can remove him?”

Vivian's gaze remained fixed on the closed doors.

“Not yet.”

“But the Council—”

“I know what the Council wants.”

Sienna lowered her voice.

“They're already saying the Volkov family should strip him of his title.”

Vivian's jaw tightened.

“If they do that publicly, it will become a scandal.”

“And if he inherits?”

Vivian finally looked at her daughter.

“He won't.”

Sienna's eyes narrowed.

“How?”

Vivian glanced toward the doorway through which Cassiel had disappeared.

“We find a reason.”

Outside the dining room, Cassiel stood motionless in the dark hallway.

He hadn't meant to hear them.

But he had.

His fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt.

For a moment, he remained there.

Then he quietly walked away.

The mansion felt colder than it had when he entered.

And somehow, he was beginning to wonder whether returning home had been a mistake.