Chapter 40

The white walls of the holding room seemed less threatening now, though no less sterile.

I sat rigidly in the uncomfortable plastic chair, my hands folded in my lap to hide their trembling.

Hours had passed since they'd taken my blood sample, the needle's sting a distant memory compared to the emotional whiplash of the past twenty-four hours.

Through the small window in the door, I could see them.

Logan, Cole, and Ryder. They sat in a row of chairs along the opposite wall, none of them speaking, their exhaustion evident in the slump of their shoulders and the hollows beneath their eyes.

Logan's head was tipped back against the wall, his throat exposed, vulnerable in a way I rarely saw him.

Cole sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at his clasped hands as if they held answers to questions I couldn't begin to imagine.

And Ryder, my chest tightened painfully, Ryder was the only one looking toward my door, his blue eyes bloodshot, his usually immaculate hair a dishevelled mess from running his hands through it too many times.

I turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer.

Their confessions in the tribunal chamber still echoed in my mind, each word a fresh wound.

A cup of coffee. They had orchestrated my entire downfall over a cup of coffee.

The scholarship manipulation, the Courts House transfer, the Consort contract, all of it was an elaborate revenge plot because I'd stood up to Logan that day on the quad.

The thought made me physically ill, my stomach clenching with a fresh wave of betrayal and grief.

But beneath that pain, beneath the righteous anger that had sustained me through the night, lurked something worse, a treacherous longing that I couldn't seem to extinguish.

I hated them for what they'd done, for the lies, for the manipulation.

But I missed them, too. I missed Ryder's infectious energy, Cole's steady presence, and Logan's fierce protectiveness.

I missed the way they'd held me after my captivity, the way they'd dyed my hair purple again to help me reclaim a piece of myself.

I missed the feeling of safety I'd found in their arms, however false it might have been.

And now, with James Killingham's bombshell claim that he was my biological father, I felt untethered.

The men I'd come to love had betrayed me from the beginning.

The mother who'd abandoned me had tried to sell me as a child.

And now the cold, intimidating High Lord of the Trivium was claiming to be my father.

The universe, it seemed, had a particularly cruel sense of humour where I was concerned.

The sound of the door unlocking jolted me from my thoughts.

I straightened in my chair, my heart hammering against my ribs as James Killingham stepped into the room.

He looked different somehow, less the untouchable High Lord and more.

.. human. There were lines of exhaustion around his eyes, and his usually immaculate suit was slightly rumpled, as if he'd been wearing it for too long.

"Cadence," he said, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "The initial tests have been completed." I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

"And?"

"The results are conclusive." He paused, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe. "I am your father. As such, all charges against you have been dropped."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implications I couldn't begin to process.

Relief that the charges were dropped warred with shock at the confirmation of his claim.

I stared at him, searching his face for any resemblance to my own.

The shape of his eyes, perhaps? The line of his jaw?

I couldn't tell, couldn't see past the stranger who had suddenly become the most important connection in my life.

"Why?" The question escaped me in a whisper, raw with emotion.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Killingham, my father, sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that reminded me, uncomfortably, of Ryder.

He pulled the other chair closer and sat down, bringing us to the same level, a concession to intimacy I hadn't expected.

"Because until around six years ago, I didn't know myself," he said, his voice carrying a weight of regret that seemed genuine. "Your mother hid it from me. We had a brief relationship after Regents, but she never told me she was pregnant. She disappeared from my life completely."

"Then how did you find out?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"I heard rumours about Alyssa resurfacing under a new name.

Dominic Blake, of all people, mentioned something about hoping the child was okay.

The timelines matched up. I was curious, so I looked into it.

" His mouth twisted in a grimace. "I hired Sebastian Lynch to investigate her whereabouts, and that's when I discovered you.

I was shocked to learn that not only did I have a daughter, but that Sebastian already knew who you were. "

A memory flashed in my mind, my grandfather and Sebastian Lynch arguing in our living room five years ago, their voices raised, my grandmother ushering me outside despite my protests. I'd never known what the fight was about, but now...

"It was about me," I said slowly, the realisation dawning. "The argument between Sebastian and my grandfather five years ago. It was about me, wasn't it?" Killingham nodded, something like respect flickering in his eyes.

"Yes, Sebastian told me about the fight.

It was part of the reason I helped him get his place in the Inner Circle.

Your grandfather wasn't happy about me getting involved with you, though.

Bruce was very adamant about keeping you away from the Trivium.

" A shadow passed over his face. "He had his reasons, good ones.

But I wanted you to have a good education, which is why I arranged the original scholarship for you.

I had no plans for you to become part of the Trivium, though. That was never my intention."

My mind raced, piecing together fragments of the past months in a new light.

"That's why you've been so interested in me. Why you were willing to change the contract at the beginning of the year when I asked. You've been trying to get me away from them all this time, haven't you?"

"Yes." The admission was simple but loaded with implications.

"When I found out about you becoming Consort, I was concerned.

I knew what that role entailed, including the expectations and restrictions.

I've been trying to convince them to give you up, to release you from the contract, but they've been resistant. " A bitter laugh escaped me.

"Of course they were. They needed me for their revenge plot." Killingham's expression darkened.

"It's more complicated than that, Cadence. The situation with the Regents, with the contract, there are layers you don't understand yet."

"Then explain it to me," I challenged, frustration burning through my grief. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like my entire life has been manipulated by people who were supposed to care about me."

He sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"If I claimed you as my daughter, as a Legacy, you would be bound to the Trivium for life.

You would be expected to take on responsibilities, to continue the legacy of your bloodline.

I have no other children, and my dear wife passed away several years ago.

As the only child of a High Lord, there would be expectations of you.

I didn't want that burden for you." His voice dropped, becoming almost gentle.

"Plus, your grandfather was very clear that you were not to be involved.” He met my eyes suddenly, and it felt like a world of emotion trapped there.

“But I would rather face the wrath of The Gavel than see my only daughter sent to the Hole.

" The genuine distress in his voice caught me off guard.

It was the first time I'd seen any crack in his composed facade, and it made him suddenly, startlingly human.

"What's The Gavel?" I asked, latching onto the unfamiliar term. Killingham winced, and for a moment, he looked almost afraid.

"Perhaps that's a conversation you need to have with your grandfather," he said carefully. "It's not my place to explain."

Before I could press him further, he changed the subject, his gaze drifting to the window where the Regents were visible.

"As High Lord, I have certain powers," he said, his voice taking on a more formal tone.

"I can have your Courts contract revoked.

You would no longer be a Consort. As your father, I will pay the penalty for breaking the contract, and I will cover your studies at Regents University for as long as you wish to remain there.

" I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.

"You... you can do that? Just cancel the contract?"

"Yes. You would no longer be bound to them.

No penalties, no consequences for you. You would be free, Cadence.

" Free. The word echoed in my mind like a promise, like a dream I'd long abandoned.

Free from the contract, from the Regents, from the twisted web of manipulation and control that had ensnared me from the moment I stepped onto Regents University's campus.

It was everything I had wanted for so long.

And yet…

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