A week had passed since that infamous Daily Prophet headline, and yet the storm showed no signs of settling. Each morning brought fresh ink and fresh scrutiny. Every policy Eira approved, every public statent, even the smallest shift in the family business—none escaped the pens of eager journalists.
The articles grew bolder by the day. Questions were raised about her competence, her silence on marriage. So called her ambitious, others foolish. But Eira ignored them. She knew exactly where the pressure ca from: the old pure-blood families who either wanted to control her or see the House of White fall, as the House of Black had, and descend into infighting over its legacy and fortune between the pure blood families .
She held firm.
She refused to give them the satisfaction.
Thanks to Emma’s tireless support and her own quiet determination, Eira maintained control—over the businesses, the estate, the staff, and more importantly, over herself. While the world whispered, she acted.
On this particular afternoon, she sat behind her desk, reviewing trade agreents with two minor Eastern European vault-houses. The warm glow of the late sun filtered in through the tall windows of the study. Her white hair, now cut short in mourning, shimred in the light.
A knock broke the silence.
"Enter," she said without glancing up.
Emma stepped in, calm and composed as always, though there was a sharpness in her eyes today. "I have news from Cecil," she said.
Eira imdiately looked up, brow raised. "He’s made his move?"
Emma nodded. "Yes, my lady. We intercepted a letter he sent to his lover, Josh. In it, he expressed growing impatience. He’s tired of waiting, and he’s eager to initiate his plan. He didn’t ntion exact details... but it’s clear his sche involves you."
Eira sat back slowly in her chair, thoughtful. "What could it be..." she murmured. "What is he planning?"
Emma responded gently, "We’ll need to analyze him, my lady. But you’ve also had first-hand experience with him. Perhaps sothing in your past encounters might reveal a clue."
Eira’s lips tightened. For a while, she said nothing.
Then: "I never had a good experience with him. Every interaction was... polite, on the surface. He wore the mask of a doting uncle. But underneath—there was always venom. He would constantly bring up my mother. He claid she betrayed my father... that I was born of an affair. He would repeat it so often, as if trying to make it truth."
Emma’s eyes sharpened. "That’s it," she said. "That’s his plan. He wants to discredit your legitimacy—to undermine your claim as the rightful heir of the White family. He’ll stir doubt among the families, the Ministry, the public. If he succeeds, he could contest your position. Perhaps even claim the title for himself."
Eira’s expression darkened. "Sick bastard."
She stood from her chair and began pacing slowly. "The irony is... he’s the illegitimate one. Not . He’s not even a true White."
Emma looked up. "Then we must reveal the truth."
Eira froze. She turned slowly to face her. "If we expose that, we dishonor the family. My grandfather... he always kept it quiet for a reason."
But Emma held firm. "And in doing so, will you allow him to dishonor your mother—a woman who was innocent? Will you protect the reputation of your grandmother, who was unfaithful, at the cost of your own mother’s na?"
The words struck Eira like a blow. She felt the breath leave her, her body stiffening. For a mont, silence reigned in the room.
Then, slowly, she sat back down.
"You’re right," she said softly. "I almost allowed his slander to stain my mother forever... just to preserve a lie. Thank you, Emma. If you hadn’t said that—I might’ve made a mistake I’d regret for the rest of my life."
Emma stepped closer. "The ti to act is now. If he raises the question of your legitimacy first, the damage will already be done. Lies travel faster than truth, and once they sink into people’s minds, they’re hard to remove."
Eira nodded, her eyes sharper now. "Then we’ll reveal the truth before he does. We’ll say we discovered it through records—quietly verified by the family solicitors. Make it look like we took the high road."
"And," Emma added, "we’ll seize his vaults and assets before the announcent. We’ll move quickly. Once the truth is out, he’ll have no position, no wealth, no backing. Let the world know who the true heir is."
A grim smile curved Eira’s lips. "Good. Let’s do it. Let’s surprise him. He’ll learn exactly who he tried to play with."
She paused for a long breath, glancing at a painting of her grandfather hanging on the far wall. Elijah White, stern and proud, looked down at her in painted silence.
"I hope you’re not angry with for this, Grandfather," she whispered. "But I’ll protect this family. Even if it ans burning away its darkest secrets."
Emma inclined her head. "He would be proud, my lady."
Eira stood. "Then let’s get to work."
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