Chapter 9 · A Gift From The Grave

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

I didn't even look up. I just gripped the edge of the mahogany desk, my knuckles white, the paper of Lucas's letter trembling in my hand. The door had swung open with a loud, arrogant thud, and the footsteps clicking across the marble were too familiar.

"Ella?"

The voice was a mix of fake shock and genuine disgust. It was my cousin, Marcus. The golden boy of the clan, the one who’d spent the last three years pretending I didn't exist until the moment they threw me into the Abyss.

"Get out," I spat.

Marcus didn't move. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the wreckage—the overturned chair, the shattered vase, and the bruised skin of my wrists. He stopped, his gaze landing on the letter.

"Still clutching onto that?" Marcus let out a short, sharp laugh. "Lucas didn't even write it for you, you know. He wrote it for the board. A formal notification of death. It’s a legal document, Ella. Not a love letter."

I felt a surge of cold fire hit my chest.