The sound of the oak door slamming against the wall shattered the silence inside Isabella Voclain's office.
Maximilian stormed in, his footsteps echoing like gunfire across the polished marble floor. The fury on his face was palpable, unrestrained.
"You've gone too far, Isabella!" he roared, his voice shaking with rage. "How dare you undermine my authority in front of them? How dare you sever all your ties with the Voclain family? Are you seriously going to betray your blood for a stranger?"
Isabella didn't flinch. She stood calmly by the tall window, hands clasped behind her back as she looked out over the courtyard of the French Ministry.
When she turned, her eyes were cold.
"She's not a stranger," Isabella said slowly. "She's my niece."
Maximilian's jaw tensed, but Isabella didn't let him speak.
"I warned you. I told you, Maximilian—do not drag Eira into this idiotic war between the Voclains and the Trévérs. She had nothing to do with it."
Maximilian's face contorted with rage. "I don't care what she had to do with it! I wanted destruction! I wanted to make a statement! What good is having family if they're not useful to us?! If she couldn't be a shield or a sword, then what's the point?!"
Crack!
Isabella's hand struck his face, echoing through the office like a whipcrack. Maximilian recoiled, stunned.
"You're just like him," Isabella spat. "Just like father."
Her voice shook—not with fear, but fury, old and bitter.
"You stood there and lied in front of everyone. Denied the truth, denied his betrayal. Do you really think your denial changes anything? That pretending our father didn't betray our mother will make it disappear? That the rest of us will just believe your version of the past?"
Maximilian's face was flushed, but he said nothing.
"You think Mother would've smiled and nodded at your little courtroom performance? That she would've clapped and congratulated you? You're wrong. You've disappointed me, Maximilian. Day by day, year by year. And today, you crossed a line I can't forgive."
Her voice dropped, trembling with restrained disgust.
"You dragged your own niece—a child—into that mockery of justice. You used her. Humiliated her. Intimidated her in front of every pure-blood family in Europe. For what? So you could parade your power? So you could puff your chest and play politics with an innocent girl's life?"
"I did it for family!" Maximilian bellowed. "To protect our name, our legacy!"
"Family?" Isabella's laugh was cold and joyless. "Don't talk to me about family. If you cared about family, Eira would've been protected. Not paraded like a prisoner in front of wolves."
She took a step closer, voice low and cutting.
"One day, you'll turn on me too. The moment I stop being useful to you, the moment I dare to disagree, you'll try to shame me the same way. But not anymore. I've withdrawn all support. I've severed every tie."
Her words hit harder than the slap.
"You're alone, Maximilian. And now that I've removed the Ministry's protection, you'll face the Trévérs yourself. Let's see how long you last without me shielding you."
Maximilian stepped back, pale with rage. "You—You can't do that! You're a Voclain! You belong to this family until you get married. You have a duty!"
"I have a conscience," Isabella hissed. "And I refuse to be part of a family that uses children as political pawns."
Her tone turned to steel.
She stepped closer, voice low with fury. "You falsified evidence. Bribed witnesses. You made people lie to falsely accuse Eira. That was the most disturbing and disgraceful thing I've ever seen."
"Now leave. Don't embarrass yourself or this country—any further."
Maximilian's hands clenched into fists. "They weren't lies!" he snarled. "Those witnesses were telling the truth! The White family did bribe them, threaten them!"
Isabella looked at him with pure disgust.
"I personally reviewed the testimonies. I contacted the witnesses myself. Yes, money exchanged hands. But no link to the White family was ever confirmed. Not even a whisper. No documents. No trail. Not a single thread connecting them. And yet you stood there and smeared them."
She turned away in shame.
"You brought falsified statements into the Ministry. You bribed people to speak. You dragged the name of France through the dirt today—for what? For ego?"
"I don't care what others think!" Maximilian shouted, desperate now. "As long as the Voclains remain strong, I don't care if the rest of the world burns!"
"And that's why you've already lost," Isabella said coldly.
She walked back to her desk, her back to him.
"Today's hearing was a farce. A complete disaster. You wanted to flex your power, and all you showed was cowardice. You tried to bring down a girl—a twelve-year-old child who spent five years of her life in coma—and she shamed you in front of the world. She stood against you without flinching. That girl represented an empire—an ancient one. And she did it without a single ally standing beside her."
Maximilian's mouth opened, but he had no words.
Isabella turned again, her voice quiet now.
"And that last thing she said? About the consequences? Believe her. You have no idea what the White family is capable of. If it weren't for the blood she shares with us—if her mother hadn't been a Voclain—she might've already burned this family to the ground."
She let the silence settle.
"The White family was barely known to France's common magical society. Only the old families knew their name. But now? Now, because of you, everyone in France knows who they are. Eira White has become a name whispered in awe and fear. You made her a legend, Maximilian."
She paused, watching the realization slowly creep into his expression.
"Today's hearing? It was just her stage. And you built it for her."
Maximilian trembled, his fists white with tension. "I won't let it happen. I'll shut the press down. I'll block every article. I'll silence every story—"
"Good luck with that," Isabella snapped. "Now get out of my office."
Maximilian remained frozen, breathing hard.
"Don't ever come here again unless you request a meeting. Officially. I'm done with your games. I'm done with this family."
"No—you can't do that!" he shouted. "What will Mother say?! Do you think she'll let this stand?!"
Isabella let out a slow, bitter laugh.
"Our mother?" Her voice dropped, cold and lifeless. "That woman is drunk in her grief. When Adrian died, so did she. She's just a shell now—walking, breathing, but empty. She hasn't cared about anything for years."
She looked Maximilian in the eye, her voice trembling.
"If she had cared—if she'd truly been a mother—she would never have let you turn into this. She wouldn't have handed you the reins of this family. She would've protected Maria. Protected us."
Isabella looked down at her desk, her tone soft and cutting.
"The Voclain family lost its heart a long time ago. Now look at us—tearing at each other's throats like wild dogs. Because of her absence. Because of your madness."
She waved her hand toward the door.
"Now go. And don't ever speak to me about family duty. You gave that up the day you decided to humiliate a child for power."
Maximilian's face twisted. But he said nothing.
He turned, walked to the door—then stopped.
He looked over his shoulder, eyes burning. But Isabella had already turned her back.
With a furious sneer, he slammed the door shut behind him.
And the silence that followed was louder than any scream.