Page 82 of Goldrage
Valentine’s hands flex at his sides, curling into fists before releasing. The motion repeats like a nervous tic, betraying the storm beneath his stoic exterior. He’s been doing that a lot lately, like his secret has been weighing on him more and more.
I catch his gaze.Patience, Valentine.
“Aurelia, darling.” Mother’s voice slices through Bianca’s prattling. “How are you feeling? How is our precious heir?”
The temperature in the room drops several degrees.Aurelia’s spine straightens, her hand drifting to her stomach.
“Um, well, thank you.” Her voice remains steady, but I catch the slight tightening around her eyes. “The morning sickness has mostly passed, now I’m just getting strange cravings.”
“Well.” Lady Harrow smiles. “I received rather disappointing news today. Dr. Reynolds was called away on a family emergency. Something about his cousin taking a sudden turn for the worse in Portland.”
The shift in Aurelia’s posture is subtle—shoulders dropping perhaps a millimeter, the grip on her fork loosening just enough to matter. Relief. She’s relieved about the delay.
Why would she fear the results when I’ve already told her I’ll love that child regardless? Whether it carries my blood or Julian’s, it will be protected. It will be loved.
Unless there’s something else she’s not telling me.
“Quite convenient, isn’t it.” Mother’s words carry a dangerous edge. “It’ll be a few extra weeks before we can determine the father of your child. I do hope this delay won’t cause any… complications.”
“I’m sure everything will work out as it should,” Aurelia responds.
Julian’s fork clatters against his plate, the sound sharp in the suffocating quiet.
Lady Harrow’s expression hardens. “Yes, well, the baby had better be Julian’s. Though either way, it’ll be Harrow blood. Lucian’s blood. The child will be raised to embody the strength and leadership that has defined our family for generations.” Her fingers drum againstthe table. “The Harrow lineage stretches back centuries, built on the foundation of men who understood that power requires sacrifice, that leadership demands ruthlessness. Lucian’s father was the same way—uncompromising, brilliant, willing to do whatever was necessary to protect the family empire.”
Bile rises in my throat at her reverence for men who were glorified monsters, but I keep my expression blank. Around the table, the tension ratchets higher. Julian’s knuckles are white around his fork. Valentine’s complexion shifts from pink to crimson.
“The child will learn from the finest tutors. It will be shaped by the wisdom of generations of Harrow men. Julian’s child will understand from birth that they’re part of something greater than themselves, something that transcends ordinary morality or sentiment?—”
“Oh, shut up, Liora!”
Valentine’s roar detonates across the dining room. Bianca’s water glass tips over, liquid spreading across the white tablecloth. Aurelia flinches. Even the guards shift uneasily at their posts.
I don’t move. Don’t react. Just watch.
Keep your mouth shut, Valentine.
I clear my throat but he ignores me.
He points a finger at his chest and my stomach drops. “If it’s Julian’s child, it’ll bemyblood, not Lucian’s!”
Forks freeze mid-air. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks once, twice, marking the seconds as decades of deception implode.
I close my eyes in defeat.
Oh, Valentine…
This wasn’t part of my plan. My mind races through contingencies, calculating how this revelation might ripple outward, disturbing my carefully laid strategies. But I remain still and observe. Neither Julian nor Lady Harrow can suspect that I already knew.
Lady Harrow’s face becomes a masterclass in emotional whiplash—shock bleeding into fury, fury into naked panic, panic into cold calculation. The transformation takes less than three seconds.
“Howdareyou!” Her words come out strangled. “Guards! Seize this man for spreading such vicious lies!”
“No,” Julian says. His gaze locks onto Valentine. “Explain yourself. Now.”
Valentine draws himself up as he faces the devastation he’s just unleashed. “Your mother and I had an affair after Adrian was born. You’re my biological son, Julian. Not Lucian’s. Mine. I’m… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you like I should’ve been.” He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing as he fights to maintain composure.
“Lies!” Lady Harrow’s shriek pierces the air like a wounded animal’s cry. The word echoes off crystal and china, but even she must hear how thin it sounds. “Vicious, desperate lies! Don’t listen to him, Julian. He’s trying to destroy our family?—”
