Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 26

Elara’s POV

For five whole years of dead silence, I had built a new life. Then, the bombardment began.

Frantic couriers cornered me outside the palace gates. Missives arrived at my apartment, sealed with that familiar crest—the twin serpents coiled around a silver chalice. The house of Valois. A symbol I had buried so deep in my memory it might as well have been a grave.

Why now?

Over the next several days, the missives came relentlessly. Morning. Afternoon. Evening. While I was filing dispatches. While I was walking Valerius home from the academy. While I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that the walls of my small apartment were thick enough to keep the world out.

They weren’t.

The latest missive held a single, terrifying threat: If you do not answer, I will present myself at the palace.

I pressed my back against the kitchen wall and slid to the floor, holding a communication crystal to finally answer her summons.

I activated the crystal. Her sigil flared instantly, as though she’d been waiting with her hand hovering over it. Hungry. Ready.

“Finally.” The Baroness’s voice crackled through the enchantment, sharp as broken glass. “Where have you been hiding, you ungrateful little bitch? Do you know how many couriers I sent? Do you have any idea the trouble I’ve gone through to track you down?”

I pressed the crystal so hard my knuckles whitened.

“Baroness.” I kept my voice level. Steady. I would not call her mother. I had not called her that since the night she threw me out. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” A laugh—brittle and joyless. “I want to know why my foster daughter disappeared like a thief in the night and never had the decency to send word. I want to know why I had to learn from a market gossip that you’ve been living in the capital like some common washerwoman—”

“You told me to leave.” The words came out harder than I intended. Good. “You chose Isolde. You told me to get rid of my child or get out of your house when I was eighteen and pregnant. I got out. I owe you nothing.”

Silence. Brief. Dangerous.

“You listen to me carefully, Elara.” The Baroness’s voice dropped. The shrill anger drained away, replaced by a calculated, dangerous calm. The voice she used when she was about to draw blood. “I know exactly where your little riverside district apartment is. And I know that your son—Valerius Frostfang, four years old—is enrolled at the Royal Primary Academy.”

My blood turned to ice water.

“You are a single commoner mother,” she continued. “I am the wife of Baron de Valois, seated member of the Imperial Elder Council. If I wished to use my status to file a petition questioning the welfare of a child being raised in such... precarious circumstances...” She let the pause stretch. “Well. You can imagine how that might end.”

I couldn’t breathe. The walls of my kitchen pressed inward. The crystal trembled in my grip.

“What do you want?” My voice cracked. I hated myself for it.

“Come home this Friday evening. We have matters to discuss.”

“And if I refuse?”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“If you do not come home this Friday evening, Elara, your little Valerius will lose his life. The capital is such a dangerous place for small children. Especially ones with no proper family to look after them.”

The threat wasn’t even veiled. It was naked. Exposed. A knife laid on the table between us.

I thought of Valerius. His dark curls bouncing as he ran ahead of me on the cobblestones. His gold eyes—his father’s eyes—lighting up when he spotted the bakery window.

My son. My whole world. The panic paralyzed me, but my protective instincts roared to life.

“I’ll be there,” I whispered in absolute terror.

“Wonderful.” The Baroness’s voice brightened instantly. Warm. Musical. As though she hadn’t just threatened a four-year-old’s life. “We’ll expect you. Don’t be late, darling.”

The crystal went dark.

I sat on the kitchen floor for a long time after that. My legs wouldn’t hold me. My mind raced through every option, every escape route, every scenario—and each one ended the same way.

She had me.

The Valois estate looked exactly as I remembered.

Neat hedgerows lining the gravel drive. White stone walls scrubbed clean of moss. Iron lanterns glowing amber in the fading light. Everything trimmed and polished and proper.

A beautiful cage.

I stood at the gate, my hands balled into fists at my sides. My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my teeth. Every instinct screamed at me to turn around. To run. To grab Valerius and disappear into the wilderness.

But I couldn’t run from the wife of an Imperial Elder. Not with my son’s life already held hostage.

The front door opened before I reached it.

And there she stood.

The Baroness de Valois. Immaculate as always—dove-gray gown, pearl earrings, silver hair swept into an elegant chignon. She looked like someone’s beloved grandmother. The kind who baked sweet rolls and told bedtime stories.

“Elara, darling!” She spread her arms wide. Her smile was radiant. Warm. Sickeningly fake. “Oh, look at you. All grown up. Come in, come in—you must be exhausted from the journey.”

The shift was so seamless it made my skin crawl. Less than a day ago, she had coldly blackmailed me with my son’s life. Now she was playing the doting mother for an audience I couldn’t see.

I stepped inside. The foyer smelled of lavender and beeswax. Unchanged.

“This way, this way.” The Baroness ushered me into the sitting room, her hand pressing against the small of my back with a familiarity that made my stomach lurch. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

The sitting room was warm. A fire crackled in the hearth. Everything staged for comfort.

A man sat in the Baron’s old armchair.

He was a fifty-something man, heavyset with a doughy build. His thinning gray hair was slicked back with so much pomade it gleamed under the lamplight like wet stone. His waistcoat strained across a protruding belly. Thick fingers rested on the armrests.

He looked up when I entered.

His eyes moved over me slowly. Deliberately. Starting at my ankles. Traveling upward—hips, waist, chest—lingering in places that made bile rise in my throat. It was a predatory, flesh-appraising gaze. He wasn’t looking at a person. He was appraising livestock.

“Ah.” His voice was oily, arrogant, and self-satisfied. “So this is the girl. You were right, Baroness, she finally saw sense and came back to her loving family for this generous arrangement.”

He had no idea. The realization hit me like a physical blow. He thought this was a natural family reunion. He thought I was a willing participant in whatever this was, completely oblivious to the violent coercion that had dragged me here.

“Harold, may I present my foster daughter, Elara.” The Baroness beamed. Her hand squeezed my shoulder—a gesture that looked affectionate and felt like a shackle.

Harold heaved himself to his feet. His breath smelled of pipe tobacco and something sour as he took my hand and pressed his wet lips to my knuckles.

“Charming, Elara,” he murmured, directly using my first name as though he already owned me, still holding my hand. His thumb traced a slow circle against my wrist. “Absolutely charming.”

I pulled my hand free, stepping back, my fear obvious.

The Baroness’s smile didn’t waver. She ignored my terror entirely, clasping her hands together.

“Harold has been so very kind to offer to marry you,” the Baroness said, clapping her hands as though she had just announced the most wonderful news in the world. “Isn’t it marvelous? Despite your past mistakes, and despite dragging around that little bastard, he is still willing to give you respectability and a proper home.”