Amara’s Point of View
"The success will be ours!" Roman shouted.
The wine flowed freely that night.
In Dad’s private room, the fire burned bright, throwing shadows against the carved stone walls. The three of us gathered close around the long oak table, the chest of false evidence resting like a crown jewel between us. My father had locked it tight again, though we all knew what was inside, the dagger, the bloodied cloth, the letters. Our victory.
Logan raised his glass high, his smirk shining in the firelight. “To Jake. May the traitor rot in chains forever.”
I lifted my own goblet, brushing it against his. “To our success.”
Dad only nodded, drinking deeply. His eyes never left the fire.
The room buzzed with a heady mix of triumph and danger. I leaned back in my chair, stretching m
