chapter 8
1037 Words
chapter 8
The palace passageways were unusually quiet.
Sunlight filtered through tall arched windows, stretching across the polished floors in long golden strips. The silence should have felt peaceful, but it didn’t. It felt like the kind that followed bad news — the kind everyone knew about but no one dared to say out loud.
Ice walked with slow, measured steps, his hands clasped behind his back. Servants bowed as he passed, their movements careful, their eyes lowered longer than usual.
“There you are, Uncle. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Ice didn’t slow down. Alex had to quicken his pace to match him, the echo of his shoes slightly uneven against the floor.
“Now you’ve found me.”
Alex inhaled. “I’m sorry about what happened last night. My men are all over the place looking for the monsters that killed those innocent men.”
“That is good to know.”
The words were calm. Too calm.
Alex glanced sideways at him, then away again.
“You know Father has always hated the Jones family…” He hesitated, jaw tightening. “But it was never just hate.”
Ice said nothing.
Alex let out a quiet breath, as though stepping into something he had avoided for years.
“He married my mother because of them.”
Ice’s steps did not falter, but his attention sharpened.
“Alice Jones,” Alex continued, his voice quieter now. “The only daughter. The key to their entire estate.”
They turned a corner, their footsteps echoing.
“He thought marrying her would give him control — a direct stake in the Jones shares. Everyone believed it would. Even him.”
Alex let out a bitter laugh.
“But her father was smarter. He put a clause in the will… the estate could only ever pass to a Jones by blood. Not a husband. Not an outsider. No matter what.”
Ice’s gaze darkened slightly, but he remained silent.
“It destroyed him,” Alex said. “Not just the failure… the humiliation. He had tied himself to a woman he didn’t love for nothing.”
His jaw tightened.
“And my mother knew it.”
There was a pause, heavier this time.
“He mistreated her, Uncle. Everyone knew it. And all the while he was chasing Kish — parading that affair like my mother didn’t exist.” His voice hardened. “She lived her whole life knowing she was second choice… in her own marriage.”
Ice’s expression did not change, but something colder settled behind his eyes.
“She died with that humiliation,” Alex continued quietly, “and he never once admitted what he did to her.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
“Where is Exodus? I need a word with him.”
Alex straightened slightly, pulled back into the present. “I’m keeping my distance,” he admitted. “But, Uncle… Father instructed me to arrest Philip. I need your permission to release him. You know Philip is harmless.”
Ice looked at him then — long enough to make Alex feel like a child again.
“Do as you please, Alex.”
Relief washed over him. “Thank you, Uncle.”
Ice continued walking.
“In fact, invite your rebellious grandson to join us for dinner tonight.”
Alex nearly stumbled. “Dinner? With the family?”
“Yes.”
Hope flickered across Alex’s face. “Thank you, Uncle. Truly.”
A maid passed with a tray, and Ice lifted a hand slightly.
She stopped at once.
“Unplug all the TVs in the palace.”
She blinked. “Sir?”
“Immediately.”
Alex cleared his throat. “Father already made sure of that.”
Ice gave a small nod.
“Is there anything else, sir?” the maid asked.
“No.”
She hurried away.
Alex shook his head faintly. “If Father cared for anything or anyone half as much as he cared for Aunty Kish, we would all have lived different lives.”
Ice said nothing.
They reached a door. Ice stopped.
Alex, assuming they were still walking, took a few more steps before noticing the silence behind him. He turned just as Ice opened the door and stepped inside.
The door shut quietly.
The room was filled with light.
Curtains drawn wide. Sun spilling across cream walls. The air felt too open for someone who wasn’t free.
Nella sat on the sofa, legs crossed, a remote in her hand. She wore a new black dress, elegant and sharp, her hair tied back neatly. Her eyes were on the television, flipping channels without actually watching.
Ice entered.
“Good morning.”
She didn’t look at him.
“I don’t see how it could be good,” she said coolly. “Your trucks were raided and men died. Maybe it counts for nothing because they were human.”
Ice studied her for a moment.
“Have you been given breakfast?”
A dry laugh escaped her. “Yes. Thank you for your hospitality. I’m having the time of my life.”
Silence lingered.
Ice stepped further into the room. “You will be meeting the family at lunch. Your father must have told you about them. After all, Uwe had a pleasant childhood here.”
That made her look at him.
“I find it hard to believe you raised my father. It’s strange how you can look so young while he is so old.”
“I require you to be discreet,” Ice said evenly. “Your stay here will be short.”
Her lips curved into a thin, sarcastic smile. “I will do as you say, Mr. President.”
His gaze hardened.
“I hate cynicism. Show gratitude… or leave the palace.”
The words were quiet, but they struck like a slap.
Ice turned and walked out.
The door closed softly behind him.
Nella stared at it, the television still flickering through channels, forgotten.
Her expression shifted — not fear.
Suspicion.
And the unsettling realization that the most dangerous thing in this palace was not the guards, not the politics…
…but the man who never needed to raise his voice.
- Writer
