The silence in the study was so thick it seed to smother her breath. The leather armchair, the oak desk, the books lining the walls—all of it seed to close in on her as she stared at the slim white envelope lying on the polished wood.
Her fingers trembled when she touched it.
"Open it," he said. His voice was low, rougher than usual. He leaned against the edge of the desk, his arms crossed. It wasn’t the Don’s usual commanding stance—this ti he looked almost... uncertain.
She swallowed, trying to steady her voice. "You could have told what this was."
"I wanted you to see it yourself. No words of mine would’ve been enough."
Her eyes flicked to his. "You knew what it would say."
"I suspected. Now we’ll know."
The envelope felt heavier than paper had any right to feel. She slid her nail under the flap, the sound of tearing paper slicing the silence like a blade. Inside was a single sheet. She unfolded it slowly, too aware of how he was watching her, too aware of the tremor in her own hands.
Her gaze skimd the words, then stopped. The letters blurred, her breath catching as her lips moved silently over the text.
DNA analysis confirms a 99.98% match.
Her knees buckled, and she sat down heavily in the chair. "No," she whispered.
His voice was gentle, but firm. "Yes."
"This... this ans...?" She couldn’t say it.
He pushed off the desk and crouched in front of her, his large hand resting on the arm of her chair but not touching her. "It ans you are who I thought you might be. The bloodline. The one no one expected to still exist."
Her throat tightened. "No. That can’t be right. My parents were... ordinary. I lived a normal life. I—"
"They were your parents. But blood has its own story. And yours..." His eyes softened. "Yours is one of power."
Her chest heaved. "You knew before I did. You tested ."
"Yes."
"You tricked into this." Her voice cracked, sharp, wounded.
"I didn’t trick you. I had to know."
"You had no right!" She stood abruptly, the paper crumpling in her fist. "My life isn’t so puzzle for you to solve."
He rose with her, his height imposing, but his voice remained low. "And if soone else had found out first? If it had been my enemies instead of ? Do you realize what that would have ant for you?"
Her vision blurred with tears she didn’t want him to see. "So I’m just another pawn on your chessboard."
His jaw clenched. "No. You’re the queen. And you don’t even see it."
"I don’t want to be anyone’s queen. I want to be . Just ."
His hand reached for her, then stopped inches away. "And who is that? Do you even know anymore?"
She looked at him, furious and fragile all at once. "I know who I was before you."
"And who are you now?" His words were quiet, almost broken.
The silence stretched, filled only by the ragged sound of her breathing. She dropped her gaze to the crumpled paper in her hand.
"This says I’m... what? An heir? To what exactly?"
His shoulders tensed. "To the bloodline of one of the oldest families in this world. A na powerful enough to shake alliances. A na people would kill for."
She shook her head. "I don’t want it. I don’t care about bloodlines or power."
"You don’t have a choice. The truth doesn’t vanish just because you wish it away."
Her eyes flashed. "You an now you’ll use it. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? My na makes valuable to you. That’s why you’ve kept close."
The words cut him, but he didn’t flinch. "You think that’s all you are to ?"
"What else am I?" Her voice cracked. "Tell !"
He closed the distance, his hand finally gripping her wrist, firm but not cruel. His eyes burned into hers. "You are the only person who’s ever made question everything I built. You’re not valuable to because of your na. You’re valuable because you... because you make feel alive in a way I didn’t think I could anymore."
Her lips parted, a breath caught in her throat.
"But the na," he continued, his voice rougher, "makes it impossible for to keep you safe. Do you understand that? From the mont this truth exists, you’re in danger."
She shook her head desperately. "I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want any of it."
"I know." His grip softened, his thumb brushing her wrist gently. "But it doesn’t matter what you want. The truth is already out."
Her tears slipped free now, hot and unrelenting. "Then what happens to ?"
He stepped closer, his presence wrapping around her like a shield. "Now? Now I protect you with everything I am. Even if it costs everything else."
Her chest ached with confusion, fear, and sothing deeper she couldn’t na. She wanted to hate him for keeping this from her. She wanted to scream at him for deciding her fate without her. But when his eyes locked on hers, all she felt was the pull that had always been there—dangerous, magnetic, irresistible.
"You should have told sooner," she whispered.
"I should have," he admitted, his forehead lowering until it nearly touched hers. "But I was afraid. Afraid of losing control. Afraid of losing you."
She closed her eyes, the heat of his breath brushing her lips. The air between them trembled with sothing unsaid, sothing inevitable.
"You can’t keep like this," she murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.
His hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face up. "I don’t want to keep you. I want you to choose . Even knowing everything."
Her breath hitched, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out reason. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Instead, she stepped back, clutching the paper to her chest as if it could shield her. "I need ti."
His jaw worked, but he nodded once. "Take it. But don’t run from . Not now."
Her eyes flicked to him, searching, desperate, lost. "I don’t know who I am anymore."
"You’re mine," he said softly, fiercely. "That’s all I know. That’s all I care about."
The words lingered long after she fled the room, the DNA report clutched against her heart like both a curse and a key.
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