Dmitri's POV
"Your family has stolen enough. You don't get to dig through our skeletons," he said.
"Your old man is the one holding the shovel," I said, circling the desk. The air between us was buzzing. One wrong word and we were swinging. "This isn't some school file. It's a coroner's report for a girl who's still breathing. A scar. A locket. He's not keeping a secret, Julien. He's burying a witness."
Julien's eyes went to the locket. His jaw twitched. "I know what it is. I've always known. I just wanted to protect her. I wanted her to have a life, not some funeral song. I wanted her to be Isabelle."
"A life built on a lie is still a cage, no matter how nice it looks." I stepped in until we were chest-to-chest. "You were pretending everything was fine while the real threats were already closing in. The Schuylers, my father... they aren't debating her future. They've already decided how this ends.. Your 'protection' just made her an easy target."
He balled his fists. His knuckles went white. "And what? You're the savior now? Give me a break. You just want to use the Valois name to scrub the Volkov filth off your skin. You don't want to save her. You want to brand her."
"I want the truth," I snarled. "And I'll burn this whole place down to give it to her."
I shoved the file inside my jacket. Footsteps echoed in the hall, heavy, expensive shoes. Director Rousseau was back.
"Move," I muttered.
Julien looked like he wanted to punch me and run at the same time. Then he grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the servant's door behind the drapes. We tumbled into the dark, narrow crawlspace just as the main door groaned open behind us.
Isabelle's POV
Earlier that morning, after I hugged Julien, things felt calm. But it didn't last. It felt like something bad was about to happen and I was waiting for it. I couldn't concentrate in class. My mind kept drifting elsewhere. I had to skip classes to settle my mind.
But I ended up in the Restricted Section of the library. It was a graveyard for old books and dust. This is where the school hid the stuff they didn't want the donors to see. I needed proof. Was my mother a thief, or was she the one who got robbed?
I reached for a thick ledger on a high shelf. I was standing on my toes, my fingers were shaking too much to grab it. Suddenly, a bigger hand reached over my shoulder and pulled it down.
I spun around. Dmitri was there, looking like he just escaped a prison break. And behind him was Julien. Seeing them together felt wrong. Like something that wasn't supposed to happen.
"You're looking at the wrong places," Dmitri said. "You don't actually think they will keep files like that in places like this."
"I don't need your help."
"Yeah, you do." He pulled a folder from his jacket and held it out. "This isn't from some library. It's from my father's safe and the Director's vault. It's the truth they tried to kill fifteen years ago."
I took it. Our fingers brushed and I felt that annoying spark again. I opened the cover.
For a second, everything around me went quiet.
"Valois Estate Liquidation." It wasn't an embezzlement. It was a hit job. A legal theft. My mother's "disgrace" was just a way for them to steal her inheritance. The scholarship that kept me here was paid for with the money they stole from my family.
There was a photo in the back. A baby. There was a jagged, red cut across the tiny palm. The scar looked so familiar.
I looked at the scar in the photo and then at mine. They were the same. That was me when I was a baby. Sister Marianne told me I got the scar at the orphanage.
"They didn't just ruin her," I whispered. My mouth felt as if it were full of ash. "They stole everything. Then they tried to kill the heir."
"They didn't just try, Isabelle," Julien said. He sounded like he was in pain. He took a step toward me, then stopped. "They made you forget. You aren't Isabelle Duval, the orphan. You're Althea De Valois. You own the ground this school is built on."
"What? My real name is Althea?"
Althea. That name did something strange to my chest, like I'd heard it before. It tasted like smoke and old songs I couldn't quite remember.
"And now they're trying to steal from you again," Dmitri said, stepping closer. He basically pinned me against the shelves. Standing this close to him felt like standing near a fire. "But they can't touch what's mine. I know their game. I was raised to play it."
"And you?" I looked up at him. I hated that I couldn't stop the tears. "The Demon Prince is my hero now?"
His eyes went dark. He looked at my lips for a second too long. "I'm nobody's hero. But I keep what I claim. And I decided you aren't theirs to erase. You're mine."
Julien's face went hard. "She belongs to herself, Dmitri. You need to stop treating her like she's your property. To win this war, she needs someone on the inside. That's me. I can fight from the boardroom."
Before I could say anything, the library doors creaked. Footsteps. Voices.
Viktor Volkov. Alexandre Rousseau.
"Down," Dmitri barked.
He shoved me into the dark space behind a rolling ladder. Julien crammed in on the other side. I was squeezed between them. Sandalwood and citrus. Panic and sweat. I could feel two hearts beating against me, one like a hammer, the other fast and steady.
Dmitri's POV
I held her. I put my hand over her mouth so she wouldn't make a sound. She was small, soft and radiating heat like she was on fire. I could feel her trembling against my chest, her pulse thumping against my own.
"The Gala is a mistake, Viktor," Rousseau's voice was right there. Just a few feet away. "If she plays, if the donors see that face... the lawsuits will kill us."
"And that's exactly what we need. A distraction. A few scandals from the donors and whatever happens at that gala will help in pushing the narrative," my father said.
"It's handled. The board wants her moved. A program in California. If she puts up a fight, we use the 2005 files. We'll make sure everyone thinks she's a thief like her mother. And if that doesn't work..." He paused. It was a cold, nasty silence. "The North Wing has old wiring. Accidents happen. We've seen this happen before."
Their footsteps faded away. I didn't let go of her right away. I could feel her shaking. The fear was turning into something harder.
"They're going to kill me," she whispered against my palm.
"No." I meant it. "They're going to try. But they forgot one thing."
She looked up at me. Her silver eyes were wide in the dark. "What?"
I leaned down until my lips were right at her ear. I could feel Julien burning a hole in the back of my head, but I didn't care. "I don't take orders from my father. And I don't give up what's mine."
I pulled her out of the hiding spot, gripping her arm so she wouldn't fall. "The Masquerade Gala will be held soon. You're gonna play. You're gonna play until every person in that room remembers Valois. And I'll be right there when you take it all back."
Isabelle's POV
His words hung in the air long after he stopped talking. I looked at the folder. Then at the locket. My hands were shaking so badly that I grabbed my skirt to steady them.
"California," I whispered. My voice sounded flat, like it was coming from someone else. "They aren't just sending me away. They're... they're talking about 'accidents.' As if I'm some error they can just delete"
I looked at Julien. He looked like he wanted to vomit. Then I looked at Dmitri. He was watching me like a hawk, waiting for me to do something impressive.
"I can't do this, Dmitri," I said, my voice cracking. I backed into a shelf. "I'm a seventeen-year-old with a violin. They own the police, the banks, the damn ground I'm standing on. I'm a target."
Dmitri stepped in. "They win if you walk away and stay quiet. You think California is a 'prestigious program'? It's a hole. You go there, you never come back. You play at that Gala, or you're already dead. Pick one."
I hated him for saying it. I hated that he was right. I looked down at the photo of the baby, at Althea. That girl had a family and a name. I just had a violin case and a death threat.
"I'm not a hero," I muttered, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I don't know how to 'dismantle' anything. I'm just tired of being scared. I just want to live my unfortunate life quietly."
Julien reached out, his hand hovering near my shoulder. "Isabelle, wait. We can find another way. My father—"
"Your father just talked about burning me alive, Julien," I snapped, the first spark of real heat hitting my chest. "There is no 'other way.'"
I looked at both of them. They both wanted a piece of me. I realized I was the only one who was actually going to pay the price.
"I'm going to my room," I said, shoving the folder into Dmitri's chest. "Don't follow me. Either of you."
I walked out of the library, dragging my feet. I walked as fast as I could, looking everywhere as if 'the accident' might happen any moment. I felt like a girl walking toward a cliff, wondering if the violin in her hand was going to be enough to make her fly.