Isabelle's POV
"It's nothing," I said again.
I opened my mouth. I almost told him, the video, the threat, the ruined brooch. I could show him. We could face it together. That's what we promised each other. But then I actually looked at his face. The way he'd look at me if he knew his father had just signed his death warrant. He'd walk straight into Viktor's office and never come out.
I closed my mouth.
Dmitri didn't look convinced. He watched me for a moment longer than usual, scanning my face to detect the lie. A pause. He looked like he wanted to push further.
"Isabelle." His voice was low. "That wasn't a glitch. You're lying."
"Adrien doesn't send emergency alerts for fun," Dmitri said, his jaw tightening.
I didn't turn around. "I'm not. I said it's fine." The words came out too fast. I sounded like a child caught stealing. "It's just—Adrien's probably messing with the system. You know how he is."
We were halfway to the door when his hand caught my wrist.
"If something's wrong—"
"Nothing is wrong." I pulled my wrist free and kept walking. Behind me, I heard him exhale slowly. He knew I was lying, but he stopped pushing.
"It's fine," I added. I increased my pace. My legs felt unsteady. "We should go."
"Go where?"
"The ceremony." I forced a smile. "I still need to get ready."
Walking to the door felt harder than it should have. I had the evidence to destroy them. But they had something stronger. The power to kill the only person who still mattered to me. The trap was already waiting. And tonight I was supposed to walk straight into it.
Dmitri walked me to the dormitory entrance. Normally he'd leave me there, but tonight he waited until I was inside, until the door clicked shut, before moving. I watched through the window. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the door like he expected it to open again.
"No more secrets." I remembered the promise we made in the bunker. And now I was lying to his face. I'd break that promise every time if it meant he stayed alive.
Dmitri's POV
The Great Hall was a total circus. Shimmering dresses, expensive champagne and that suffocating smell of old money and fake perfume. The chandeliers were hanging there like frozen explosions, casting a nasty, bright light over the whole room.
I couldn't wrap my head around the look on her face when she walked out. That hollow smile. The way her hands shook. She was lying. I knew it the way I knew my own heartbeat.
But I stood by the door anyway, waiting for her to open it and tell me the truth.
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to. The doubt was a weight in my chest, but I forced it down. Whatever she was hiding, there had to be a reason. There had to be. I would make myself understand. I would wait until she's ready to tell me the truth.
I was up on the balcony. My hand stayed on the hilt of the blade tucked under my jacket. I wasn't here for the party even when the party was meant for me.
Down below, I could see the whole gallery of assholes.
My father, Viktor, was laughing with some senator as if he didn't have a federal warrant coming his way.
Rousseau was over by the bar, looking like he was about to throw up in his drink.
And Seraphina Schuyler was draped in green velvet, her eyes moving around the room like a hawk looking for a mouse.
Beside her, Emmeline looked like a corpse. She kept staring at her mother, her face twitching. It looked like her "perfect student" mask was finally falling apart.
Then, the lights went out. The show began.
A single spotlight hit the stage.
Isabelle stepped out.
She was wearing a midnight-blue gown that looked like it was made of shadows. Her red hair was pinned up, showing off the line of her neck.
She looked exactly like her mother. Exactly like Elena Valois.
The whole room gasped. I watched the older donors, the ones who were around in 2005, froze. Champagne glasses stayed stuck halfway to their mouths. The silence was so heavy it actually hurt my ears.
"Is that…?" some duchess whispered.
"No way. The Duval kid died in that fire."
Isabelle didn't give them time to think.
She tucked the violin under her chin and started. It was a vicious, haunting version of the Valois melody, twisted into something dark and mean.
As the notes hit the rafters, the room lost its mind.
"That's the Valois crest!" some guy in the front row yelled. He was pointing at the gold locket on her shoulder. "Where the hell did she get that?"
"Look at her hand!" someone else shouted. The light hit the scar on her palm. "The mark of the heir!"
Chaos. Pure, beautiful chaos. These people weren't just shocked, they were terrified. If a Valois was alive, every land grab, every bribe and every shady deal they'd made for fifteen years was suddenly a crime.
Emmeline's POV
I was hiding in the shadows of the pillars, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. I looked at Isabelle on the stage, and then I looked at my mother.
Mother wasn't surprised. She had this devilish smile on her face. The type of smile she wears whenever she's had the upper hand in something dirty.
"Mother," I whispered, moving closer. "They're panicking. Everyone recognizes her. We have to stop this, right? Before the reporters get here?"
Mother didn't even look at me. She kept her eyes on the stage. Her voice was cold.
"Let them look, Emmeline. Let them get a real good look at her. It makes the ending so much better."
"The ending?" A chill ran down my spine. "What do you mean? You said we were just going to kick her out. You said we'd frame her for stealing."
Mother finally turned. Her eyes looked like dry ice.
"A girl with that face can't just move to another country, Emmeline. She's a weed. You have to pull them out by the roots. Did you really think I'd let a Valois breathe our air for a second longer than I had to?"
I looked up, following a horrible feeling in my gut.
High up in the rafters, I saw a shadow. A man was moving near the heavy iron chains that held the main chandelier, the one hanging right over Isabelle's head.
"Mother, no…"
It hit me like a punch to the stomach. This was a public execution.
"This is going too far. She's just a girl! She hasn't done anything!"
"She exists," Mother snapped. She grabbed my wrist so hard it was going to bruise. "And that's the biggest sin of all. Smile, Emmeline. The show is almost over."
Dmitri's POV
I saw the movement in the rigging from the balcony. My chest lit up with panic.
"ISABELLE!"
My voice cut through the music.
I vaulted over the velvet railing, dropping twenty feet straight down. I hit the marble floor with a bone-jarring thud. Donors screamed as I scrambled up, my eyes locked on the iron chain. It started to unspool.
The chandelier groaned. The sound of metal giving up.
Isabelle looked up. She still had the violin under her chin, her eyes wide as she realized what was coming.
I lunged for her. The world went into slow motion. I could see the glint of the crystal, the shadow of the falling chandelier and the face of the girl I'd spent my life pretending to hate. The woman I was about to die for.