Elara ran from Dominic's room. Every step down the dimly lit corridor felt heavier than the last. The weight of his words, his presence, still clung to her like a suffocating fog.
She barely saw the big lounge ahead, but her legs carried her straight to Sylvia, who stood there—rigid, reckless, her sharp eyes scanning Elara's face the moment she saw her.
"Elara, what—"
"Let's just go," Elara cut her off, breathless.
Sylvia narrowed her eyes but didn't argue. For once, she simply followed.
As they hurried out, Elara's gaze unintentionally flicked to the side—and there he was.
Dominic Lancaster.
He was moving with a calculated stride, his presence imposing even in silence. A group of men trailed behind him like shadows, their expressions unreadable. His face? As cold and unreadable as ever.
But this time… something was different.
Where is he going?
Then, she remembered—the man who had come in just before she left his room. The urgency in his whisper.
Something serious had happened.
But she didn't care. She tightened her grip on Sylvia's wrist.
And they left.
---
By the time they arrived home, Elias was there.
But he didn't look relieved.
He looked like he had been searching for them for hours.
"Elara!"
She didn't even hesitate—she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
But—he didn't hug her back.
Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away.
"Elara," his voice was sharp. Furious.
She froze.
"Where the hell did you go?!"
Elara opened her mouth, but the rage in his eyes stopped her.
"I looked everywhere for you!" His voice boomed, shaking the air around them. "You disappeared—do you have any idea what could have happened to you?!"
Elara clenched her fists. "I was just trying to fix the problem I—"
Elias cut her off.
"No, Elara." His voice was lower now, but it carried more weight than a scream. "You don't know what you're dealing with.
"This man—Dominic Lancaster—do you know what he's capable of?" His breathing was heavy, his anger barely contained. "Do you know what I dread the most right now?"
Elara swallowed hard.
Elias's voice dropped into something darker.
"That someone with this much power can do whatever he wants."
Silence.
Then, he scoffed. "I don't know what that man did… but I've lived here all my life. Everyone knows me. But now?" He gestured around him, his hands shaking with frustration.
"People I've known since childhood won't even respond to my greeting. They look at me like I don't exist. They're not scared of me—they're scared of him."
He let out a bitter laugh.
"They won't talk to me. They won't even ask me for money. Do you know what that means?"
Elara and Sylvia exchanged uneasy glances.
"It means," Elias whispered, his voice deadly quiet, "that this man's power is not just wealth—it's control."
Sylvia finally spoke, her voice hard. "Then we should stay away from him."
Elias exhaled, running a hand down his face.
"Yes. We should."
Elara hesitated. "Then… what do we do now?"
Elias didn't answer. His jaw clenched. Then, without another word, he turned and walked to his room.
---
Later that night, as the air turned cold, Sylvia sat on the bed, watching Elara carefully.
"Elara," she finally said, "what really happened back there?"
Elara stared at the ceiling.
"When you left Dominic's room, what did he say to you?"
Elara's chest tightened.
Sylvia leaned in, studying her face. "Did he threaten you?"
Elara turned over, her back facing Sylvia.
"… I don't want to talk about it."
Sylvia exhaled, frustrated. "Elara."
No response.
"I know you're scared," Sylvia continued. "I know you're shaken. But if you don't tell me, how can I protect you?"
Still—nothing.
Elara refused to answer.
Finally, Sylvia lay back, staring at the ceiling. Her jaw tightened.
That was the first time Elara shut her out.
---
Meanwhile, At Dominic's House…
The meeting was in full swing, with sir Flamont giving reports, his words carefully chosen
Dominic sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable.
But the more he spoke, the deeper his frown became.
A cold sweat settled over the room.
The mud of tension thickened, suffocating every breath.
Perspiration cooled against Dominic's skin. His fingers tapped against the desk in slow, deliberate movements.
Then—
He suddenly stood.
Slammed his hand against the table.
The sound echoed through the room.
Everyone flinched.
Without a word, he stormed out.
Straight to his mother's quarters.
The door slammed open.
"ISADORA!"
A moment later, she stepped out, her silk robe trailing behind her. Her expression was calm—too calm.
She tilted her head slightly. "What sort of madness is this?"
Dominic's jaw tightened. His eyes burned with authority.
His voice was cold, sharp, and final.
"Don't think you can control my life."
Isadora raised a brow.
Dominic took a step forward, his presence commanding the room.
"Enough," he hissed. "What do you think bringing Felix will do?"
For the first time, Isadora's expression shifted.
A flicker of something—perhaps amusement, perhaps warning.
Dominic's eyes darkened.
"This game you're playing…" he exhaled sharply, his tone deadly quiet.
"You better make sure you can finish it."
Without another word, he turned—and left.
His rage trailed behind him like a storm waiting to break.
After Dominic left, Isadora and Alistair watched his retreating figure in the cold silence of the dimly lit room. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into the distance.
Alistair exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. "Definitely, he got this act of playing games from you."
Isadora smirked, tilting her head. "And he got his control and dominance from you."
Alistair scoffed, shaking his head. "Why must he inherit the worst of both of us?"
Isadora's gaze lingered on the doorway, her expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, she murmured, "I just hope Felix will be able to work his magic."
Isadora's jaw tightened. Her voice, low and certain, carried a quiet weight.
"I've promised myself—I won't let him ruin that small, innocent family."
A tense pause filled the air.