Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
EMILIA
The dining hall smelled like polished wood and political tension.
Mirrored chandeliers reflected every sliver of movement, every diamond earring and wine glass raised just a little too deliberately.
I sat between Vivienne Kingsley and Charlotte DuPont — two names that practically printed money.
Vivienne stirred her espresso with a silver spoon, not because she needed to, but because idle hands were for poor girls.
Charlotte was reapplying lip gloss with surgical precision, like she expected to be photographed any second.
They were flawless. Composed. Born and bred to run legacy families, or marry men who did.
And they were bored.
"I heard the Crow twins got into another fight," Vivienne said airily, not even looking up from her cup. "This time with those boys from House Marrow."
Charlotte raised a brow. “Did they win? ”
Vivienne finally glanced at her. “Obviously. Bastion broke someone’s nose. Luca, I think, just watched.”
Charlotte sighed dreamily. “God, I forget how big they are until someone bleeds.”
I looked down at my plate, not saying anything.
“Tall,” Charlotte went on, “but not in that awkward, lanky way. They fill a room. Especially Bastion.”
“And the tattoos,” Vivienne added. “God, those hands. Did you see Luca’s rings last week? He looks like a dynasty prince who forgot how to behave.”
“They’re both ridiculously attractive,” Charlotte murmured, chin in her hand. “And dangerous. It’s the combination. That sharp jaw, those scars…”
Vivienne leaned closer. “But their mouths. The way they don’t smile unless they’re about to end someone? Delicious.”
I tried not to react.
Tried not to picture either of them standing shirtless in our bathroom that morning.
Luca with a towel low on his hips.
Bastion taking his shirt.
Their tattoos bold and unapologetic — full chest, knuckle ink, veined hands that looked like they were made for violence.
"They're the kind of hot you only survive once," Charlotte said, “Maybe.”
Vivienne gave a breathy laugh. “They’d wreck you and then vanish into the smoke of their family nightclub empire. Probably leave a black card on the nightstand.”
Charlotte grinned. “And a bruise shaped like a vow.”
That made me lift my eyes.
“She’s quiet,” Vivienne teased. “What do you think, Em? Ever had a fantasy about the Crow twins?”
I took a slow sip of water .
Felt the weight of it on my tongue before I answered.
And then I said lightly, “They’re just boys.”
Charlotte blinked. “They’re Crow boys.”
“And?” I tilted my head. “You mean they’re like everyone else here.”
Vivienne scoffed, but there was an edge to it. “Oh, come on. They’re practically feral. You’ve seen the way they look at people.”
I met her gaze without blinking. “Yes. I have.”
“Pity they’re psychopaths. Straight from the old age of bloodlines built for violence.” Charlotte added with a smirk, toying with the edge of her fork like it was a blade she’d learned to wield since birth.
“They were bred for war,” Vivienne added. “Not decision-making. You ever look one of them in the eye? It’s like staring into a coffin. Velvet-lined, sure. But still a coffin.”
My body went still. I didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.
“So what’s it like living in their house?”
Charlotte leaned forward now, her voice dipped in casual cruelty.
“Cold.”
And I gave them the truth.
Vivienne tilted her head, just slightly.
“They don’t talk unless they have to,” I said. “They move like they’re trained to disappear. And they hate me.”
That made them pause.
“They what?” Vivienne frowned.
“They hate me,” I repeated. “Which is fine. Refreshing, even. At least they say it to my face.”
Charlotte’s brows lifted, just a touch. Vivienne blinked.
“No smiles. No charm. No pretending to like me at brunch just to plot something else behind my back,” I said. “They don’t hide who they are. That’s more honest than most people I’ve met at this school.”
Silence slid between us.
Then Charlotte gave a breath of a laugh. “So you’d rather be hated by Crows than loved by heirs?”
“I’d rather know where I stand,” I said calmly. “The Crow family doesn’t pretend. That’s more than I can say for anyone else in this room.”
And I didn’t look away.
Because the truth was — they were right.
The twins were born from violence.
Vivienne leaned back slowly in her chair, eyeing me like I was a puzzle she hadn’t finished solving.
Charlotte, meanwhile, just twisted the ring on her finger. A slow rotation. A tell.
“So, what…” she drawled, “you’re defending them now?”
“No,” I replied, too quickly. Then again, slower. “No. I’m not.”
Vivienne arched a brow.
“I’m just not lying about them. That’s all.”
Charlotte clicked her tongue. “You don’t have to lie, Emilia. Not to us. We’re your friends.”
“And you’re an Adams,” Vivienne added. “Don’t forget that. They’re Crows. It’s not the same.”
I laughed under my breath — a single, bitter exhale. “No. It’s not.”
Charlotte cocked her head, sensing the shift.
“They don’t pretend to be anything they’re not,” I said. “They don’t coat their claws in sugar. They don’t smile while they gut you. They just… are what they are.”
“Violent,” Vivienne said bluntly. “Territorial. Unstable.”
“So are half the heirs in this room,” I snapped. “You think August Cavelly hasn’t drowned someone in that ridiculous underground pool? Or that the Thorne boys didn’t burn a vineyard to the ground last summer to cover evidence?”
Charlotte’s mouth tightened.
I kept going.
“At least the Crows don’t send flowers after. Or lie about who they are just to keep a clean press release.”
Vivienne smirked faintly. “You’re defending them like they’re misunderstood puppies.”
“I’m not,” I said, teeth gritted now. “I’m saying if everyone else gets to play monster in a mask, maybe it’s not a crime to respect the ones who don't bother hiding their teeth.”
Charlotte frowned. “You think they’d do the same for you?”
I blinked. Just once. “I don’t care if they would.”
They stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
Like I’d forgotten my bloodline.
My place.
Maybe I had.
“Just be careful,” Vivienne said, more softly this time. “People already talk.”
“Let them,” I muttered, rising to my feet. My chair scraped against the floor.
“Emilia—”
“I need air,” I cut in.
I didn’t look at them when I walked away. I didn’t want to see what was on their faces — pity, confusion, suspicion. Maybe all three.
The hallway outside was cool and quiet. Too quiet.
And that’s when I saw them.
Kingston and Reid Crow.
Leaning against the marble wall, shoulder to shoulder, identical grins that never quite reached their eyes.
They didn’t speak .
They didn’t need to.
They’d heard everything.
I paused, blood cooling as fast as it had boiled.
Reid raised a brow.
Kingston tilted his head, that Crow smirk sliding slow across his mouth.
“Nice speech,” he said lazily. “You always this loyal to people who hate you?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because I wasn’t sure what scared me more. That they’d heard me defending their family.
Or that I’d meant every word. It was nice to just be hated and knew where I stood for once.