Chapter 10: A Bloodline Unveiled
Bastien's fingers hovered over the photograph, the edges worn, the truth within it sharp enough to cut. It had taken him weeks to trace it—through defunct adoption records, sealed archives, and a trail of falsified birth certificates.
There was no longer any doubt.
Lucien Leontis was not just Elara's protector. He was her half-brother.
And no one knew. Not Elara. Not Lucien. Not even the late Cordelia Delacroix, who had gone to her grave believing her secrets had died with her.
Bastien's jaw clenched as he paced across his study. If this truth came out, the consequences would be nuclear. The board would revolt. The press would devour her. And Adrien—he'd use it as a weapon to reclaim the throne Elara had just begun to sit upon.
He tapped his pen against the desk, staring at the encrypted email draft.
To: Elara Delacroix
Subject: The Truth About Lucien
But his hand froze. The click of a gun cocking behind him made the decision for him.
"Don't send it," a voice ordered coldly.
He turned slowly to find Aurélie Chen, Elara's ex-legal counsel, standing in the doorway with her pistol drawn.
"You knew?" he asked.
She nodded. "And I also know what happens if you leak it. You think you're protecting her, Bastien. But truth doesn't always set people free. Sometimes, it ruins them."
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Back at Delacroix Manor
Elara sat in her mother's old bedroom, the air thick with memories and perfume that refused to fade. She opened an old drawer and found a sealed envelope marked with wax—her mother's personal seal.
Inside was a letter.
> "My dearest Elara,
If you're reading this, then I've failed to protect you from the blood that stains our name…"*
The letter detailed an affair. One brief and scandalous—between Cordelia Delacroix and Alaric Leontis, Lucien's late father.
Elara's breath caught in her throat.
Lucien wasn't just her mother's bodyguard's son.
He was her blood.
She dropped the letter. The implications hit her like a tidal wave. Every look. Every act of loyalty. Every night they'd stood too close under the guise of politics.
And worse—the part of her that had once felt drawn to him.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her spiral.
"Elara?" Lucien's voice came through.
She couldn't answer.
How could she?
When the throne she'd claimed was no longer hers to sit on—at least not without consequence.
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