Silence.
Heavy. Tense. Charged like the air before a lightning strike.
Alina stood between Kaelir and the twins, every muscle in her body tight, prepared for a fight. She hadn't planned for this. She had expected a confrontation, yes—but not one where her sons stared down the man who didn't know he was their father.
Not like this.
Kaelir's voice broke the quiet first.
"Riven and… the other one. What's his name?"
Alina flinched. "Auron."
His jaw flexed. "They have your last name?"
"Vale. Not Moreau," she corrected coldly. "My past name was buried six years ago—along with me."
Kaelir looked up at the twins again.
Auron had crept behind his brother. Riven, ever defiant, remained on the step above, his chin raised in silent challenge. He looked so much like Kaelir in his youth it was painful to watch.
"They look like you," Kaelir muttered.
"No," Alina said, voice sharp. "They are not you. They are not weapons, or heirs, or pawns in your cursed kingdom. They are mine."
His head snapped toward her. "Ours."
Her lips curled. "You forfeited that the day you locked me behind golden gates and let your court slowly kill me."
"I didn't know—"
"Exactly," she cut in. "You didn't know. Because you didn't care to look past what my father did to see me."
The heat between them rose—old fire, long-buried, now reigniting into something dangerous.
Then Riven spoke.
"Are you our dad?"
The room froze.
Kaelir blinked, clearly stunned. His lips parted but no sound came.
Alina stepped forward, but Riven turned to her. "No, I want him to answer."
Kaelir crouched down, lowering himself to the boy's level for the first time.
"I didn't know about you," he said, voice raw. "But yes. I am."
Auron stepped out from behind his brother, small voice uncertain. "Does that mean you're staying?"
Alina's breath hitched.
Kaelir looked up at her—just a glance—but she already knew what was coming.
"Yes," he said, eyes never leaving hers. "I'm not leaving again."
---
Later That Night
Kaelir stood alone on Alina's penthouse balcony, staring out over Serynthia's neon skyline. The cool wind did nothing to ease the heat burning beneath his skin.
Alina hadn't said another word to him since she put the boys to bed.
Now, her voice came from behind him, soft and sharp all at once.
"You have no right to make promises to them."
"I have every right," he said, not turning. "They're my sons."
"You had no part in raising them."
"Because you didn't give me the chance."
"You didn't deserve it."
That hit harder than she probably meant it to.
He turned now, slowly.
Her robe was replaced with sleek, dark loungewear—simple, but powerful. A different woman than the one he once knew. Stronger. Sharper. Deadlier.
"I didn't come here to fight you, Alina."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you here? Guilt? Power? Or maybe you finally need your heir after six years of being heirless."
"Don't twist this."
"I'm not twisting anything. I'm protecting my sons from the man who once watched me break—just so his enemies would think him strong."
"I watched," he said lowly, "because I didn't know how to help you. I was young. Angry. Used. Just like you."
She looked at him for a long time. Then:
"They're mine, Kaelir. I raised them without your help. I protected them. I made them strong."
"And now you want to keep them from me."
"No," she said. "I want to keep them from becoming you."
---
Elsewhere — Serynthia Royal Intelligence Command
A screen lit up in a dark room.
Alina Vale.
Facial match: 99.87%
Real identity: Princess Alina Moreau-Valen — status: presumed dead.
The man watching the screen smiled.
"Looks like the ghost is back."
He turned to the woman beside him.
"Put a bounty on her. Alive. And quiet. The empire doesn't survive if she talks."