Chapter 11

Sylvia’s POV

The silence after Lucian's words still clung to me after we left the library. My pulse hadn’t slowed since he pulled that book from the shelf and forced the truth into the light. I hated that he knew now, hated how he hadn’t laughed or mocked me. Somehow, his calm certainty stung all the more.

We stopped in a corridor washed in gray light. His expression was carved from stone; it was the kind of face meant to command armies, not talk to girls who didn’t belong.

“It’s unacceptable,” he said, breaking through the silence that consumed us. “Sera failed you. Your mother should have—”

“Don’t you dare,” I interrupted. The words were out before I could stop them. My cheeks flared. “You don’t get to speak about her like that. She did what she could with what she had. She gave me numbers, stitches, and survival. She gave me everything until she had nothing left. If you think that isn’t enough, that’s your problem… not hers.”

My voice shook, but not with fear, with fury.

Lucian’s jaw clenched, and for a heartbeat, I thought I overstepped. Grace had always said my mouth was going to get me killed one day.

But he didn’t yell at me like I expected; instead, his shoulders eased fractionally, and when he spoke again, his tone was quieter.

“I respected your mother,” he said. “But that does not make me less angry about what you were denied. But I understand, Sylvia.”

The way he spoke my name sent a strange twist through me. I swallowed it down and remained quiet, not sure what more to say.

“I will see to it that you are given what she couldn’t provide,” he continued. “You will have a tutor. You will learn. Not because you owe me, but because you deserve more than scraps.”

My lip trembled against my better judgment.

“And if I said no?” I asked, my voice coming out meek and unlike myself.

“Then, you waste your chance,” he said simply. “And that would insult her memory more than my words ever could.”

I hated that he had an answer for everything; I hated it more because it made sense. He seemed to see right through my hesitation, but all he did was offer a gentle tease.

"Otherwise, what good would your mother's letter be if you can't even read it?"

My cheeks flamed with anger and embarrassment. I had no words for him; no retortion. I wanted so badly to put him in his place, but I couldn’t. Because he was right. What would I do if I did get my mother’s letter?

I couldn’t read it.

Seeing my barriers crumbling slightly and the resignation on my face, his expression softened slightly.

“I am not the villain you think that I am,” he continued softly. “Later, I have a surprise for you. But for now, I want you to dine with us. My sons and I.”

“Y… your sons?” I asked, my brows pinching together.

He nodded once.

“The twins, Kale and Vincent,” he replied. “They should know who I have brought to live under this roof and who is bedding in the royal wing.”

From his tone, I knew this wasn’t an invitation I could refuse, but it made the knot in my stomach grow even tighter.

Later, I dressed in a casual dress that was given to me among the bundle of clothes. I tied my hair back into a long braid and sighed when I looked in the mirror. I somehow looked older than I did before my mother died. The memory of her was still so fresh in my mind, and it tugged at my heart.

I wouldn’t cry, though, not here. I wouldn’t give Lucian that kind of satisfaction.

I made a mental note to search for Grace later. I needed my best friend more than anything right now, and I really needed to make sure she was okay. I hated that I hadn’t seen her since we arrived, and I worried that something might be terribly wrong.

It was Clara who came to fetch me for dinner, and when I asked her about Grace, she only told me that she was adjusting well and that she made a good addition to the team.

The dining hall was a cavern of polished stone and glittering light, chandeliers dripping with crystals that caught every flicker of the fire. A long table stretched between us, loaded with food I’d only ever smelled in passing: roasted meats, buttered breads of all sorts, and fruits piled high.

Lucian was already seated, head of the table. His eyes scanned me for a moment, and I felt heat creep up the nape of my neck from his scrutiny. His eyes were dark, and his jaw tensed, but he made no sound. Instead, he motioned for one of the empty chairs for me to sit.

I lowered myself into the seat, keeping my hands bunched at my lap and my head down. I just wanted to get this dinner over with and move on with my night. I wanted to go and see Grace, so I knew for certain that she was adjusting well.

Kale was the first to arrive; he looked like Lucian in almost every single way, except younger. I was already familiar with his sons; I didn’t live under a rock. Everybody knew about that Orion family.

His sons were 19; Kale was a few minutes older than Vincent. If the rumors were correct, then his sons were actually his nephews. He took them in when his sister died. I had no idea how that made him look in my eyes, but I tried not to think too much about it.

“Is this the orphan?” Kale asked as he strolled into the dining hall, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs.

The word “orphan” was a slap in the face.

“I have a name,” I shot back automatically, not going to take that sitting down.

“She looks like a burden,” Kale murmured, his eyes never leaving mine.

“She is sitting right here,” I said through my teeth, my fists clenching even more.

What was wrong with this asshole? He literally just met me and knew nothing about me.

“Little orphan has teeth,” another voice sounded from the doorway.

I looked up to see Vincent striding into the room; he was all sharp angles and easy smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. He had a resemblance to Kale, though he was lankier and clean-shaven, whereas Kale sported a stubble, like Lucian, making him appear older.

It was obvious that Kale spent more time lifting weights at the gym with his father, whereas Vincent spent more time outside running. Both muscular in their own ways, but focused on different elements of their bodies.

Vincent already had a glass of wine in his hand by the time he sat down, and he was swirling the contents of his cup as he assessed me.

“So, where did our father find you, orphan?” Vincent asked, raising his brows. “Do tell...”

I scowled at him.

“My name is Sylvia,” I said through my teeth. “Use it.”

“You have to earn a name around here,” Kale said, folding his arms across his chest.

“That’s enough out of you two,” Lucian cut in, his voice sharp as edges. “You’ll show Sylvia some respect while she stays here.”

“And how long is she staying here exactly?” Kale asked, his eyes shooting to his father.

“As long as she’d like.”

This made Kale scoff.

“So, she’ll be mooching off our family indefinitely then?” He asked, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Typical gold digger.”

My heart stopped at his words, and my cheeks heated with both anger and embarrassment at his accusation.

How dare he assume I was only here because of their money? I didn’t even want any of their money, let alone to stay under their roof. I was only there because Lucian told me he had my mother’s heirloom, and I wanted it back. Not that he’ll give it to me unless I tell him I was staying in this pack forever.

“I don’t want anything you have to offer,” I said, my fists clenching even more.

“That’s what they always say,” Kale muttered as he put food on his plate.

I was no longer hungry; my appetite had long since vanished, replaced by something sour.

“Gold-digger? No. She’s cleverer than that. She wants something, but it isn’t jewels,” Vincent observed, his eyes reading me like a book. I refused to meet his gaze. “The question…” he continued, his eyes sliding over me with a smirk that made my stomach drop.

“What’s she willing to do to get it?”