Chapter 31 #2
She screams like a demon as the door slams behind me.
The President’s house glitters like a stage set, every eave laced with white lights. It looks less like a holiday gala and more like a velvet trap for anyone stupid enough to think they’re safe.
Hand tucked inside my suit jacket like a French emperor, I stroll inside. Confident. And flush with secrets as rich as dirty money.
“There you are!” Hailey flutters in rose-colored sequins, breathless with relief. Honey-blonde hair piled high into tight ringlets, pink lips parted into a desperate smile. At least she doesn’t smell like cat piss tonight. But like an overwhelming bouquet of lilies.
She latches onto my hand as if she can anchor herself in me. I slip it over my bicep and march into the ballroom, all smiles and handshakes, the perfect groom-to-be.
Dad’s eyeing me carefully as we enter. Dutifully, I aim Hailey first toward him and the board members surrounding him. Mainly allies. But I have to be careful here.
Tonight is the death of obedience. The end of pretending submission is strategy. I’ve spent years smiling through control, feigning respect while plotting their fall. But no more.
We’re playing my game now.
And I’ll watch their empire burn, gleaming as hot as my Porsche in the flames.
“Having a good night?” Dad asks Hailey while studying my expression. He knows something’s up. But I simply smile.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Cardell! Thank you,” she gasps like she’s meeting a celebrity. And continues to babble on about something inane while I scan the crowd.
A slap on my shoulder makes me jolt. “Showing your fiancée a good time tonight, Aiden?”
My plastered grin turns dangerous as I shake Dean Twinston’s hand with a death grip. “Of course.”
As the man of the hour, I’m interrupted twelve more times before dinner. I charm the officials. Toast the president. Offer Hailey’s father the kind of polite praise that curdles in my mouth like spoiled milk. All of it smoke, long enough to get the room’s attention.
Waiters spread champagne around like an infection of luxury. Everyone holds delicate stems of golden bubbles. Ready for me to speak like an obedient servant. The one they never expected to turn.
And then I take the mic.
“I wanted to thank you all,” I begin, tone easy, grin still wide. “Thank you for coming to celebrate the first union arranged by the Pairing Oversight Tribunal. Dean Twinston did me the honor of forcing his daughter onto me—him being head of the committee himself.”
The air stills. Utensils pause midair. The entire room holds its breath. Good. Now they’re listening.
The projector hums. A white mat rolls down from the ceiling. And in front of every trustee, every donor, every smug parasite in the room, Dean Twinston’s finances spill across the screen—rows of numbers, accounts, transfers. His sins in neat little fonts.
Almost giddily, I take out a laser pointer and aim it at the screen.
“Harold Twinston, Dean of Health Sciences at Northview University. A distinguished position. And also, the owner of a failed biotech venture with Moretti Family Foods. Mounting debts. Collectors…”
People swivel their necks back and forth from him to me to President Damon. She’s frozen. Unable to move. Eyes locked onto mine with no expression.
“So what does he do?” I continue. “President Damon graciously hands him funds to run our committees, including the entire POT, which he founded. But did he allocate that money correctly?” I pause, savoring the silence.
“No. He funneled it…” With a flick of my wrist, the red beam shows how he used university funding for himself. “Elsewhere.”
Twinston bolts upright, face mottled, shaking like a rat trapped in the open. “Stop this! Shut it down!”
Shouts ripple. President Damon herself rises, hands spread, eyes darting like she’s calculating her escape route. The guests call for the dean’s explanation with outraged questions.
I lift the paper from my pocket—the original assignment pairing me with Hailey—and hold it high. With deliberate calm, I lower it to a candle’s flame. The parchment curls, blackens, and turns to ash between my fingers. Smoke coils up as the room gasps like I just torched scripture.
“I’d say this appointment has been canceled.” I drop the burning fragment into my water goblet. Steam hisses. The crowd erupts. “President Damon, I respectfully decline to marry this scoundrel’s daughter.” And, as a seal on my sarcasm, I sneer. “He’s not loyal to the Seven.”
Her eyes drift toward the dean, but he’s dumbfounded. Mouth ajar and no words escaping his barrel chest.
“Take him to my office,” she tells her men.
Enforcers seize Twinston, dragging him out as he flails and sputters.
“Please, everyone. I’ll get to the bottom of this and make a statement in the morning. If what Aiden Cardell has brought forward is true, then we’ll have to take some disciplinary measures. And, of course, Mr. Cardell. Your appointment has been nullified. It was made in bad faith...”
Her words trail off like she’s never had to make a statement on the fly. She stammers about working things out, her voice thin against the roar. As the shouting escalates, she hurries out the door, followed by two men from the Amethyst Order.
Through the chaos, I find my father’s eyes. His jaw tight, his gaze steady. And with a single nod, I’ve gained his approval.
That’s all I need.
I’m free.
I turn, slipping out into the night. If I hurry, I can make it back to Ashlyn’s dorm in five minutes. Maybe stop for bread and candy—
“Aiden!”
My jacket jerks. Hailey slams into me, arms thrown around my chest. Her sobs smear across my lapel. She clings to me like a drowning child.
“Please! We don’t have to be over. We can make this work. I know we’re meant to be—”
“Yeah,” I say flatly, trying to wrench her off. “We’re not.”
She only clutches harder. In her scramble, she drags me down enough to plant a desperate kiss—wet, quick, pathetic—on my lips. Then another on my cheek before I shove her back.
And that’s when I see her.
Hellkitten.
Standing framed in the porch light, snow spinning around her. Face pale, eyes wide, mouth parted—not with awe, but with the kind of betrayal that can break bone.
The glitz and noise of the party vanish. Hailey’s sobs, the crowd’s whispers, the stench of smoke. All gone.
All I feel is my victory turning to acid in my throat.
One glance from her, and I feel the ground give beneath me.