Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 28

Isolde’s POV

The communication crystal pulsed with Seraphine’s sigil, and I snatched it off the windowsill before Gareth could notice.

“Sol.” Seraphine’s voice slithered through the enchantment, low and dripping with satisfaction. “You won’t believe the week I’ve had.”

I pressed the crystal close and turned toward the wall. Gareth was snoring on the sofa behind me, one arm dangling off the edge, mouth open. Useless even in sleep.

“Tell me everything,” I whispered.

“I’ve been inside the palace for a few days now. They accepted the badge without question. Kaelen’s people practically rolled out a carpet for me.” A pause. I could hear her smiling. “And Elara? Oh, Sol. She’s still there. Filing papers like a good little servant. I had her fetch my coffee yesterday. Made her walk across the entire west wing for it. And the best part? I’ve already made Kaelen firmly believe I’m his long-lost true love. He is completely wrapped around my finger.”

A warm, toxic pleasure bloomed in my chest. “Is that so?”

“It is. She didn’t even argue. Just lowered those pathetic ice-blue eyes and scurried off like a mouse. I could have died laughing.” Seraphine’s tone sharpened. “But here’s the real prize. I’ve been digging into her routine. She has a son.”

“I know she has a son.”

“But did you know he’s enrolled at the Royal Primary Academy? It’s just a short walk from the palace. His name is Valerius Frostfang. He’s about four. Dark curly hair. Gold eyes—interesting, that. Every mid-afternoon, a woman named Brenna picks him up. Same time. Same gate. Like clockwork.”

I pressed the crystal harder against my ear. My mind was already moving. Spinning. Building.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Sol, that child is the only thing Elara cares about in this world. The only thing. You want to destroy her? You don’t need to touch her. You just need to take away what she loves.”

I smiled.

After Seraphine severed the connection, I sat in the dim apartment for a long time. The ceiling stain above me spread like a bruise. Gareth’s snoring rattled on.

I turned the information over and over, examining it from every angle. A child. A routine. A vulnerability.

And then the shape of a plan emerged—not all at once, but in pieces, like a puzzle assembling itself in the dark.

I didn’t need to hurt Elara directly. I needed leverage. Something that would make her compliant. Obedient. Willing to do whatever she was told.

Her son.

But I couldn’t act alone. I needed resources. Money. A buyer.

I needed Mother.

The next morning, I sat in the back of Gareth’s miserable carriage—the springs groaning with every cobblestone—and composed a message on a fresh communication crystal keyed to the Baroness’s personal sigil.

I chose every word with surgical care.

Mother. I have found Elara. She is living in the capital, working at the palace. She has a son—no husband, no protector, no family name worth anything. She is a twenty-three-year-old woman with a child and is more vulnerable than she has ever been. I also have a connection to a wealthy merchant named Harold Morrison, a business associate of Gareth’s. He has been looking for a wife for years. He is rich. He is discreet. He is willing to pay handsomely for the right arrangement. I propose we force Elara to marry him. In exchange, he will pay ten times the cost of Father’s medical expenses—not just the current bills, but all future treatment. And a house, Mother. A proper house in the capital’s upper district. All we need is the right leverage to ensure Elara cooperates. I have found that leverage. Contact me immediately.

I sent it and waited.

The crystal pulsed back within the hour.

“Isolde.” The Baroness’s voice was clipped. Businesslike. No warmth, no sentiment—just the dry rasp of a woman calculating profit margins. “Explain this arrangement. Clearly.”

“It’s simple, Mother. Harold Morrison wants a young, beautiful wife. Elara is twenty-three and beautiful. And Elara has no one to protect her.”

“She’ll refuse.”

“Not if we have her son.”

A beat of silence. I could almost hear the Baroness’s mind clicking like an abacus.

“The boy?”

“He attends the Royal Primary Academy. Every mid-afternoon, a friend picks him up at the same time. If I collect him first—as a concerned family member—we have our leverage. Elara will do anything to get him back. Anything. Including marrying Harold Morrison with a smile on her face.”

“And Morrison will pay?”

“Handsomely. Ten times what Father’s treatment costs. Enough for the healers, the house, and plenty left over.”

Another silence. Longer this time. I held my breath.

“The medical bills are destroying us.” The Baroness’s voice had shifted. Harder. Hungrier. “Your father’s condition worsens by the week. The healers have doubled their fees. If this Morrison can truly cover all of that, plus secure us a proper residence...”

“He can. And he will. All he wants in return is a pretty wife who won’t ask questions.”

“And the boy? What happens to the boy?”

“He stays with us until Elara signs the marriage contract. After that, Morrison can decide whether he wants a stepson or not. Either way, the child is our insurance.”

The Baroness exhaled slowly. When she spoke again, her voice carried the brisk satisfaction of a merchant closing a deal.

“Do it. But be careful, Isolde. If this goes wrong—”

“It won’t.” I allowed myself a thin smile. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

The next day, I stood before a tarnished mirror in the apartment and transformed myself.

I pinned my blonde hair into a severe, conservative bun. No loose curls. No ornamentation. I chose a modest dress—dove gray, high collar, long sleeves. I looked like someone’s respectable aunt. Someone trustworthy. Someone harmless.

The Royal Primary Academy sat in a quiet lane lined with elm trees, close enough to the palace district that I could see the spires from the entrance. Stone walls. Iron gate. A small courtyard where children’s laughter echoed off the flagstones.

I approached the front desk with a warm, practiced smile.

The woman behind the desk looked up. She was tired—deeply, bone-achingly tired. Her hair had gone mostly gray, though she couldn’t have been that old. Dark circles carved trenches beneath her eyes. A brass nameplate read: Mrs. Henderson, Tutor.

“Good afternoon,” I said, my voice gentle as honey poured over glass. “I’m here to collect my nephew. Valerius Frostfang.”

Mrs. Henderson blinked. Her brow furrowed slightly. “And you are?”

I reached into my satchel and produced the identity document. Heavy parchment. Official seal. The name printed in clean, authoritative script: Isolde de Valois Nightfire.

“His aunt,” I said simply. “On his mother’s side. The Valois family.”

Mrs. Henderson took the document. Her eyes scanned it slowly. I watched her gaze snag on the surname—Valois. The same noble name listed in Valerius’s enrollment records under his mother’s former household.

“I see,” she murmured. “We don’t usually... his mother’s instructions specify that only a woman named Brenna is authorized for pickup.”

“I understand completely.” I let my expression soften into something approaching apology. “My sister—Elara—was called away for an urgent work matter at the palace. She asked me to come in Brenna’s place. Just this once.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “I wouldn’t normally intrude, but she was quite distressed. She didn’t want Valerius waiting alone.”

Mrs. Henderson glanced at the document again. Then at me. Then at the document.

“The surnames match,” she said, half to herself.

“Of course they do. We’re family.”

A pause. The woman’s tired eyes wavered. I could see the calculation—the desire to follow protocol warring against exhaustion, against the reasonable appearance of a well-dressed noblewoman with matching paperwork and a plausible story.

Exhaustion won.

“I’ll call him,” Mrs. Henderson said.

She disappeared through a side door. I folded my hands in front of me and waited.

Minutes passed. Then the door opened again, and a small figure emerged.

Valerius Frostfang.

He was smaller than I expected. A slight boy with a book bag slung over one shoulder, dark curls falling across his forehead in wild spirals. But it was his eyes that stopped me cold.

Heartbreaking, dark gold eyes. But I didn’t care where he got his looks from; he was exactly the leverage I needed.

The boy looked up at me with open suspicion. His small jaw was set. His gold eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” His voice was higher than I expected but carried an unmistakable edge of wariness. “Mommy said only Auntie Brenna picks me up.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” I crouched down to his level, making myself small. Approachable. My smile was radiant. “I’m your Auntie from the Valois family. Your mommy’s sister.”

“Mommy doesn’t have a sister.”

Sharp little thing. I maintained my smile.

“She does, darling. We just haven’t seen each other in a very long time.” I held out the identity document so he could see. “Look—do you see this name? Valois. That’s your mommy’s family name too, isn’t it?”

Valerius squinted at the parchment. His lips moved as he slowly, carefully sounded out the letters. V-A-L-O-I-S.

Recognition flickered across his face, mingled with lingering distrust.

“Mommy’s work had an emergency,” I continued, keeping my voice low and conspiratorial. Intimate. Like sharing a secret. “She asked me to come get you. And she told me...” I leaned closer, dropping to a whisper, “...to tell you something very special.”

The wariness cracked. Just a fraction.

“What?” he asked.

I let the pause stretch. Then I looked him dead in those heartbreaking gold eyes and delivered the hook.

“I know a secret about your daddy.”

The effect was immediate. His whole body went rigid. Those gold eyes blew wide—round as coins, shimmering with a desperate, aching hunger that no child should carry.

“My... my daddy?” His voice came out cracked. Barely audible.

“That’s right.” I smiled gently. Warmly. Like the loving aunt I was pretending to be. “Would you like to hear about him? I can tell you everything on the way.”

Valerius nodded so hard I worried he’d hurt his neck. “Yes! Please! I want to know everything about him!”