"Get out!" Madam Vale’s voice rose to a terrifying, guttural yell that vibrated through the small room. "My son is grieving! We are all grieving four lost souls! I lost my son, and I lost two grandchildren. How dare you stand there and dictate how we process our pain? How dare you asure our worth by your greed?"
The room went deathly still. In the silence, Julian moved.
The transformation was chilling. He stood up, the vulnerability of the last hour receding behind a mask of cold, hard marble. He wiped his face clean with a single, steady motion of his hand. The tears were gone, replaced by an icy, focused intensity that made Kalian straighten his posture, his smirk faltering just a fraction.
"Shall we, Uncle?" Julian said. His voice was no longer cracking; it was low, smooth, and carried the weight of a death sentence. He adjusted the cuffs of his dark suit, looking every bit the sovereign kalian he had just mocked. "I will tell you exactly what you want to hear. I will tell the family exactly where they stand."
He turned to his mother, giving her a single, firm nod, a silent signal that the heir had returned. "Mother, let’s go."
As they walked toward the grand sitting room, the air grew colder. Most of the guests had departed, leaving only the inner circle of the Vale dynasty. They sat in the shadows of the high-ceilinged room like vultures circling a fresh kill. Julian didn’t hesitate; he strode into the center of the hall, his presence commanding the space, ready to face the vipers who shared his blood.
The grand sitting room had gone unnaturally quiet. Every mber of the Vale family sat scattered across velvet chairs and long cream-colored sofas, dressed in mourning black, their expensive jewelry catching softly beneath the chandelier light.
The air slled of incense, whiskey, and tension. Julian stood near the fireplace with Madam Vale beside him. For the first ti that evening, he no longer looked uncertain. Still exhausted.
Still grieving. But steadier now. Like he had finally made peace with a decision that terrified him. His gaze moved across the room slowly, eting each pair of eyes one after another.
Uncles. Aunts. Cousins. People who shared his blood but not always his loyalty. "I will be taking over the company after my brother."
His voice cut cleanly through the silence. A few people shifted imdiately in their seats. Julian ignored them.
"As next in line," he continued calmly, "I will carry on the Vale legacy with pride, just as my father and brother did before ." Beside him, Madam Vale remained perfectly still.
But the faint lift of her chin made it clear she stood behind every word. A murmur spread quietly through the room. So surprised. So pleased. Others were visibly calculating what this ant for them.
Then..."You know the rules." The voice ca from Julian’s uncle, seated near the center sofa.
Uncle Dorian leaned back lazily, swirling amber liquor in his glass as though discussing the weather instead of the future of the family empire. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Unless you plan on marrying again," he added smoothly, "how exactly do you intend to secure the next heir without a son?" The room beca even quieter. Julian’s jaw tightened instantly.
"What do you an?" he asked sharply. Another aunt spoke before Dorian could answer.
Elegant. Cold. Cruel in the polished way wealthy won often perfected. "Your wife is pregnant, yes," she said lightly. "But no one even knows if the child is a boy." A few relatives exchanged glances.
Soone sighed softly. Julian felt anger rise imdiately in his chest. Not because of tradition. Not because of inheritance.
But because Amara was upstairs carrying his child while these people spoke about her pregnancy as if it was a business inconvenience. His voice hardened.
"I will involve the family appropriately once my child is born," he said firmly. "Whether my child is a son or a daughter is not the concern today." The warning underneath his tone was obvious.
"Right now," Julian continued, "we have far more serious matters to discuss." But before he could continue... "Actually..."
Another voice interrupted lazily. Uncle Kalian. The room shifted slightly at his tone. Kalian sat near the far end of the room, one leg crossed over the other, staring down at his phone with unsettling calm.
Unlike the others, he did not bother hiding his amusent. He looked up slowly toward Julian.
"Just a minute." Julian’s stomach tightened instantly. There was sothing dangerous in Kalian’s expression. Sothing ugly. Kalian tilted his phone slightly in his hand before looking directly at Julian again.
"You don’t know what your wife is having..." he said thoughtfully. "Is it because the child isn’t yours?" The room froze. Completely froze. Julian stopped breathing for a second. Then Kalian smiled.
Slowly. Cruelly. "I just found out sothing very interesting," he continued. "Apparently, you aren’t the father of the baby your wife is carrying."
A sharp gasp ca from sowhere across the room. Another relative whispered, "What?" Madam Vale’s face went ice cold. And Julian....Julian felt sothing inside him snap.
"You listen to ...." His voice exploded across the room as he took a violent step forward. Every muscle in his body tightened at once.
For one terrifying second, it genuinely looked like he might cross the room and hit Kalian. Madam Vale grabbed his wrist imdiately. Hard. "Julian."
Her voice was low but commanding. A warning. But Julian could barely hear her. Blood roared in his ears. All he could think about was Amara upstairs.
Amara is already drowning beneath fear and uncertainty. Amara was crying in his arms earlier. And now these people...His family...Were tearing her apart like gossip at a dinner table.
Kalian leaned back comfortably, completely unbothered by Julian’s fury. "If the rumors are false," he said smoothly, "then why are you so emotional?" Julian’s breathing beca dangerously uneven.
"Say another word about my wife," he said quietly, "and I swear to God..."
"What?" Kalian interrupted mockingly. "You’ll hit in your dead brother’s house?" The room erupted into nervous murmurs.
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