A D R I A N

The news follows me like a shadow all the way home. Even after Ethan leaves and Elara retreats to the clinic, the words won’t stop echoing, from within the family. My family. Betrayal coils tight in my gut, burning hotter than the restraint I’d forced between us moments before.

I should be storming the docks, tearing through records, demanding answers. But instead, I find myself summoned to the only battlefield I can’t walk away from, which is my mother’s table.

The dining room feels colder than the storm caves ever did.
Crystal gleams under chandelier light, the Valcrosse crest stitched into the table runner like a verdict. My mother sits at the head, spine arrow-straight, hands folded like blades.

I stand across from her, tie loosened but throat still strangled. The silence stretches. Even the sea outside seems to hush, waiting for her verdict.

“Trust,” Isabella says at last, the single word like ice cracking. “You’ve squandered it.”

Her eyes pin me, not the warm blue of my father’s, but flint. “Staff tampered supplies. Investors mutter. Marina spins rumors faster than we can suffocate them. And you..” she leans forward, voice low, surgical, “you chose to hide things from me.”

I clench my jaw. “I was protecting Seraphine.”

Her laugh is soft, humorless. “No. You were protecting your pride. And pride does not keep guests alive.”

The words hit harder than any boardroom ambush. She has always been the sharpest blade in this family, and tonight she wields it without mercy.

“You’ve let outsiders dictate this island’s story,” she continues. “A doctor you barely know. A staff member who whispers. And a cousin with far too much access.”

At that last word, my stomach knots. She knows.

I force my hands behind my back, parade-rest posture even though I feel gutted. “If you’re accusing me of negligence..”

“I’m accusing you,” Isabella cuts in, “of forgetting who you are. You are the heir to Seraphine, Adrian. And heirs do not gamble the legacy on secrecy and lust.”

Elara’s name isn’t spoken, but it’s carved into the silence between us.

My fists curl at my sides, nails biting into skin. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake? Every decision I’ve made, every order I’ve signed, has been to protect Seraphine. To protect this family.”

Isabella tilts her chin, unimpressed. “Then why does it feel as though the only thing you’ve protected is your ego?”

The words strike deep, a scar across old wounds. I hear Elara’s voice in my head you think control makes you safe, but it doesn’t. And damn it, she’s right. But I can’t admit that here, not with my mother’s eyes dissecting every flaw.

“I’ve worked for years to prove I’m worthy of this island,” I grinned. “I’ve bled for it, sacrificed..”

“You confuse sacrifice with stubbornness.” Her tone slices clean through mine. “And now, because of your pride, our own blood undermines us from within.”

The air shifts before I can answer. A door opens at the far end of the room, the heavy oak groaning like it resents the intrusion.

And then he walks in.

Cousin Mateo. Younger by three years, groomed on the edges of privilege, always with that lazy smirk that hides a blade. He doesn’t bother with a tie, his linen shirt open at the collar, sleeves rolled as though he’s just strolled in from a yacht instead of a battlefield.

“Aunt Isabella,” he greets smoothly, lips brushing her hand before he straightens. His gaze cuts to me, sharp, mocking. “Cousin.”

“Mateo,” I say flatly, venom tucked under the syllables. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Of course not.” He paces leisurely, fingers trailing along the polished table edge. “But then, neither were the investors when whispers reached their ears. Or the staff when supplies went missing. Funny, isn’t it, how these little… accidents pile up?”

I stiffen. “You’re calling it sabotage?”

He grins without warmth. “I’m not calling it anything. I’m simply observing. And offering solutions. The board, the press, they all crave clarity. If clarity doesn’t come from you…” His smile widens, all teeth. “…then perhaps it comes from me.”

The implication is a knife pressed to my throat. My jaw clenches, rage and fear sparking under my skin. “You’d sell out your own family?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Adrian. The press doesn’t need the whole story. Just enough of it.” Mateo slides into a chair across from Isabella, legs crossed, utterly at ease. “A hint of negligence. A shadow of scandal. The suggestion that Seraphine’s golden heir isn’t quite as flawless as advertised. You’d be amazed how quickly public trust crumbles.”

My chest tightens, fury thrumming like surf against rocks. I want to lunge across the table, slam his smug face into the crystal. But Isabella’s gaze pins me in place, her silence heavier than chains.

“Is that a threat?” My voice comes out low, dangerous.

Mateo shrugs, the picture of indifference. “Consider it… an opportunity. Give me a seat at the table, a say in the resort’s future, and my lips stay sealed. Refuse, and well, every reporter in San Aurelio will be very eager to hear my story.”

The room is a vise, squeezing tighter with every heartbeat. My mother’s eyes are unreadable, but I can feel her calculation. And me.. I’m caught between fury and dread, between protecting Elara, protecting Seraphine, and protecting a legacy that feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.

The bastard’s words hang in the air, heavy as a noose.

I want to shout, to slam my fist into the table until glass shatters. But I force myself still. Because that’s what Mateo wants, an outburst he can twist, a headline gift-wrapped for the vultures outside our gates.

“You mistake patience for weakness,” I say instead, voice low, steady as steel. “If you think you can blackmail your way into Seraphine, you’ll regret underestimating me.”

Mateo only smirks, lazy, and predatory. “Regret is such a heavy word. I prefer… inevitability. Because let’s be honest, cousin, how long before someone else talks? Staff? Guests? That pretty doctor you keep far too close? Secrets have a way of leaking.”

Elara. He doesn’t say her name, but he doesn’t need to. The suggestion alone makes my blood run hot, protective instinct surging like the tide. He wants to drag her into this? Use her as leverage? I’ll burn him to ash first.

I take a step forward, but Isabella’s voice slices through the tension.

“Enough.”

Both of us freeze. Her gaze sweeps between us, cool, merciless. She has always been the queen of silence, wielding it as a blade. Tonight she lets it cut me deepest.

“You two will tear each other apart,” she says, her voice a measured warning. “And the island with you. Decide quickly, Adrian. Is Seraphine your legacy, or your battlefield?”

Mateo leans back, smug as ever, victory dripping from every casual line of his body. “Tick-tock, cousin. The press loves scandals. In fact…” His grin widens. “I already have a contact in San Aurelio waiting for my call. One headline, and Seraphine’s starry lanterns turn into torches.”

The chandelier burns overhead, too bright, too hot, while the rest of the room remains glacial. My mother does not move. She lets the silence weigh until it crushes my lungs, forcing a choice I don’t yet know how to make.

Protect the island’s reputation or expose the rot festering in our bloodline.

Either way, Seraphine bleeds.