Page 65 of Blood Heir

As the car slows before the mansion gates, he leans toward me. His scent brushes my face—subtle, clean, familiar.

“I’ll head back to work for a bit,” he says, voice low, almost reluctant. “But I’ll return to you tonight.”

He leans in further, brushing a soft kiss to my forehead, lingering like he’s memorizing the moment. My lips pull into a soft smile, one I’ve perfected by now—sweet, innocent, warm.

“Of course,” I whisper. “Don’t work too hard.”

He smiles back and presses one last kiss on my hand before pulling away. The gates open, and the car glides up the driveway. When we stop, the staff open my door, and I step out, waving him goodbye as the car disappears back into the night.

The moment he’s gone, the smile drops off my face like a mask.

I head straight to my room, shutting the door softly behind me. My feet carry me toward the vanity table almost on their own. My chest tightens as I stare at it.

Now or never.

I kneel down on the cool floor, feeling along the smooth wood, fingers tracing every seam, every edge. My breath quickens as I search, pushing gently. And there—beneath the center drawer—I feel the slight give.

A hidden compartment.

With a soft click, it pops open.

Inside, tucked neatly as if waiting for me, rests a small leather-bound diary.

I stare at it for a moment, my pulse hammering. My fingers tremble as I pull it free, its weight heavier than I expect. The tiny lock gleams under the lamp. Without hesitation, I reach for the little key I’ve kept hidden and slide it into the lock. It turns with a soft click.

I stare at the first page.

The neat handwriting is mine.

My head starts to spin.

If you’re reading this, then somehow you survived. That means there’s still hope.

I’m writing this for you—for us. Because one day you might forget. And if you do, you deserve to know everything.

When I first returned to Melbourne, I was full of excitement. Foolish, bright-eyed excitement. Finally, I was going to spend time with Father, build a life with him after yearsof being educated abroad. France, Switzerland—those years felt like a dream compared to what waited for me here.

But I didn’t come home to peace. I came home to vultures circling. Father was surrounded by traitors. His council was rotten—men smiling at him during the day and plotting his destruction at night. And circling closest of all was the Accardi Syndicate.

His greatest threat. Serevin’s family.

Father was desperate. He proposed a solution: a marriage alliance with the Accardis. He told me that if I married Serevin, we could buy some time, stabilize the balance of power, and keep our enemies at bay.

I agreed. Because I loved my father. Because I wanted to believe there was still something left to save.

And so I married Serevin.

In the beginning, it was cold. He barely spoke to me. I was simply another calculated piece on his board. But something shifted. Slowly. The more he tried to maintain distance, the closer I felt. I saw glimpses of him—behind the mask. The cracks in his armor. The man hidden beneath the title. And to my own foolish heart, that was enough.

I fell in love with him.

And then Father died.

They said it was natural causes. A heart attack. But I knew better. I fought for the love I thought was real. And eventually, I confessed everything to Serevin. That I married him out of duty but stayed because I loved him.

But that was only the beginning.

Vittoria was never done playing her games. When she saw that my love for Serevin was no longer a weapon she could control, she broke me entirely. She told me the truth. The whole, twisted truth.

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