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Chapter 12
Andreas shut the whole mess down like it was a minor inconvenience.
As if loyalty could be restored with a glance.
A few days later, an invitation arrived–gold–foiled and heavy, to a banquet dripping in wealth and old–world pedigree.
He insisted I attend–in full formalwear.
That night, for the first time, he removed his mask and gently fastened a ruby necklace around my neck–an heirloom that had been passed down in the Valentine family for generations.
“They need to see exactly who stands beside me,” he said softly.
But we had barely stepped into the ballroom when-
N
Bang!A single, sharp crack split the air like a whip. The server standing just to Andreas’s left staggered back–a bloom of red blossomed across his chest, grotesquely vivid.
A beat of stunned silence passed. Then, chaos erupted.
“Sir!”
Several of Andreas’s men shouted in unison, rushing in from all directions to shield him.
But before they could, Andreas pulled me behind him with
wift, unflinching instinct.
His eyes — normally like warm green springlight–darkened instantly, glowing with cold fury and lethal intent.
“Second floor. Hallway corner,” he barked.
Before I had time to think, my body had already moved.
Instinct took over.
I hitched up my gown, fingers finding the cool steel against my thigh
Pulled. Aimed. Fired. Like I’d done a thousand times at the range.
Feering past Andreas’s shoulder, I zeroed in on the faint silhouette near the hallway corner upstairs.
Bang!
The recoil bit into my wrist, sending a jolt of pain through my arm.
Up above, the figure jerked–then crumpled over the railing and fell hard to the marble floor below. He didn’t
move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t live.
The entire room froze once again.
Once it was confirmed the assassin acted alone and was already dead, every eye in the room shifted to me–and the pistol still warm in
my hand.
Especially the elder council members–those who’d never trusted me, the foreign bride.
They stared, stunned, unable to believe I’d just saved their heir’s life.
Order was restored swiftly.
That night, Andreas wasted no time–he executed a ruthless internal purge.
By midnight, the traitors were found. And gone. Then, at the ancient family tribunal, he stood tall, took my hand in his, and made his
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declaration.
“From this day forward, Helena is not only my wife—she is my equal,” he said, his voice carrying through the vaulted chamber.
“She holds the same authority I do. Her name will be written beside mine in the family’s Supreme Charter.”
“That is law.”
On the way home, Andreas said nothing.
But the second we stepped into the estate, the second the doors shut and the world fell away-
He wrapped his arms around me like steel cables, holding me close.
“I hate my position more than ever,” he murmured against my ear, voice tight with something deeper than fear.
“I swear on my life, Helena–I’ll never let ‘em touch you again.”
I could smell the soft scent of bluebells clinging to his clothes.
And beneath it, I could hear it–the frantic, uneven rhythm of his heartbeat.
So the heir to the Valentine Syndicate could panic after all.
I let out a quiet laugh and leaned closer
“Admit it. That whole assassin stunt–was just
way of building my reputation, wasn’t it?”
“Your butler already shot the assassin in the shoulder before I took my shot, didn’t he?”
Andreas’s expression faltered–then he gave a short, sheepish laugh.
His emerald eyes sparkled as they traced over my face.
Then he dipped his head, brushing a whisper–soft kiss against my lips.
“Ti amo.”
He said it in Castalian.
But I understood.
I love you.
Chapter 12
