Chapter 6

Thorne's gaze drifted back to the empty sky above the courtyard wall.

The black mist was gone, but Thorne still remembered the feeling.

A priest who claimed to purify demons, yet drew on demonic power himself.

Who sent him?

How many more were behind this?

He was still turning it over in his mind when he heard the sound of wheelchair wheels rolling up behind him.

Viklian wheeled himself over and came to a stop beside Thorne.

"That priest," Viklian said, his voice a little rough. "He came to us on his own, three years ago."

Thorne turned to look at him.

"Three years ago, Daisy's condition suddenly got a lot worse." Viklian said. "I went everywhere looking for help. Tried everything I could think of. Nothing worked. Then this priest showed up at the estate gates out of nowhere, saying he could cure my granddaughter."

The old man lowered his head and stared at his thin, withered hands.

"I believed him. Let him move into the estate, and every few days he'd perform what he called a 'purification ritual' on Daisy. Three years went by, and Daisy never got any better. Instead, this priest just made himself at home."

He paused.

"Looking back now, he was never here to heal her."

Thorne said nothing.

Viklian raised his head and looked at him, his cloudy eyes heavy with exhaustion and guilt.

Thorne was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "This isn't your fault. That kind of thing — most people would never be able to tell."

Viklian shook his head without another word and slowly wheeled himself away.

Thorne watched him go, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Showed up on his own three years ago.

Three years.

That was around the same time Daisy's gift had awakened.

This priest — or whoever was pulling his strings — might not have been targeting the Montier family from the start.

They were after Daisy.

After the Holy Light inside her.

……

Early the next morning, just before dawn.

Thorne had slept the night in the guest room. After he woke up and washed his face, he was about to head out when he heard voices coming from down the hall.

Daisy's voice.

Thorne paused mid-step. He didn't go over. He just stood in the doorway and listened.

"Grandfather, I want to break off the engagement."

A silence fell over the room. Then came the sound of a wheelchair moving.

Viklian's voice came through: "Say that again."

"I want to call off the engagement with Thorne." Daisy's tone didn't waver. "He has a demon inside him, and I carry Holy Light. If we stay together, we'll only end up hurting each other."

"Do you have any idea what you're saying?" Viklian's voice rose sharply. "Yesterday, how long were you lucid? Both times together, not even half an hour. Do you know why you had that half hour?"

Daisy didn't answer.

"Because of him!" Viklian's hand came down hard on the armrest of his wheelchair. "It was the demon's presence inside him that stirred your Holy Light. That's why you were able to wake up. And now you're standing here telling me you want to break off the engagement?"

It was the first time Thorne had ever heard Viklian lose his temper like this.

The old man's voice was shaking.

"Daisy, listen to me." By the end, Viklian's tone had softened again. "This marriage is your only hope. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this?"

Daisy was quiet for a long time before she finally said, "I just... don't want my selfishness to be the reason his Holy Light burns him to death."

The hallway went still.

Thorne stood in the doorway. When he heard those words, something shifted in his expression.

He didn't move.

A moment later, Daisy came out of Viklian's room. She was still barefoot, the strap of her nightgown hanging crookedly off one shoulder. When she passed Thorne's door, her steps slowed.

But she didn't stop.

Her eyes were still clear, though there was something in them now that hadn't been there before — something that might have been stubbornness, or maybe something else entirely.

Then she walked on.

By the time she reached the bend in the staircase, her steps had grown unsteady. One hand reached out and found the wall.

When she stepped off the last stair, that spark of clarity went out completely. Her eyes had gone blank again.

"Flower... where's my flower..."

A nearby servant rushed over and took her arm.

……

About half an hour later, Adrian came looking for Thorne.

He stood in the doorway of the guest room, arms crossed, not coming in. He looked a little better than yesterday, but not by much.

"Thorne." He used his name directly, no title attached.

Thorne was sitting in the chair by the window. He looked up.

Adrian cleared his throat. "About yesterday... I acted out of line. You saved Daisy. I'll give you that."

"But Thorne, you need to face facts. You're a convicted criminal. No matter how far the Montier family has fallen, we won't let a man with a criminal record become a husband in this family."

He reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulled out a check, and set it on the table by the door.

"The black card we gave you already has ten million dollars on it. This check is an additional ten million. Twenty million total. More than enough to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life."

Adrian looked at Thorne. His tone carried a note of charity, though it was still considerably more civil than yesterday, when he'd been pointing a gun.

"Take the money and leave. After today, you and Daisy have nothing to do with each other."

Thorne looked at the check on the table and let out a short laugh.

Adrian frowned. "What's funny?"

"Mr. Montier," Thorne said, his voice as flat as always, "you keep calling me a criminal."

Adrian didn't respond, but his expression said it all — aren't you?

"Have you ever considered," Thorne said, standing and taking a couple of steps forward, "that I never killed anyone?"

Adrian went still.

Thorne stopped in front of him. Close.

"Ten years ago, the one who killed someone was my brother, Hawk. He was drunk and stabbed a man to death."

Adrian's mouth opened slightly.

"I was fifteen." Thorne said. "His parents — my adoptive parents — got down on their knees in front of me and begged me to take the blame for him. They said once I got out, they'd make it up to me. That they'd treat me like their own son."

His tone stayed even throughout, like he was talking about someone else's life.

"I was young. Too soft-hearted. So I agreed."

Adrian's expression was shifting.

"Over those ten years, they never came to see me once. Never sent a letter. Never got a single word to me."

Thorne looked him in the eye.

"The day I got out, they were waiting at the gate. Not to welcome me home."

"It was because your family needed someone to marry Daisy. They didn't want Hawk to have to deal with that. Then I came back, so they pushed me forward instead."

Adrian stood there, frozen, as Thorne's words sank in.

Thorne kept going. "So Mr. Montier — in their eyes, what is your daughter? She's a tool. Something to be used to get rid of me, the so-called 'jinx.'"

"From the very beginning, all they wanted was to drive me, the 'demon,' out the door — and dump your daughter, the 'burden,' at the same time. Two birds, one stone."

The sound of wheelchair wheels came again. Viklian rolled into the hallway.

"Is everything you just said true?"

Thorne nodded. "Every word."

Viklian's hands gripped the armrests of his wheelchair so tight his knuckles went white. His eyes were wide open.

"Adrian, have the car brought around." Viklian's voice was quiet, but cold as a winter wind.

"Bring all the family's personal guards. We're going to Victor Estate."

"I want to hear it from them directly — just how they managed to trample the Montier family's dignity into the dirt."

Three black cars pulled out of Montier Estate one after another.

Adrian rode in the first car, flanked by four elite guards, every one of them wearing the same hard, dangerous look.

Viklian was in the second car, his wheelchair locked in place inside the cabin. The old man sat with his eyes closed and said nothing.

Thorne rode in the last car.

He leaned back in his seat and watched the scenery passing outside the window. His face gave nothing away.

The drive took about forty minutes. Then the Victor family estate came into view ahead.

Music was drifting out from inside.

And laughter.

Adrian stepped out of the car. When he heard the music, his brow furrowed hard. "What are they doing?"

No one answered.

Thorne walked in front, through the gate and into the courtyard.

Three large tables had been set up in the courtyard, covered with white tablecloths and loaded with food and wine. A dozen or so people were seated around them — a few of them Thorne recognized as relatives from the Victor family's extended branches.

Hawk was standing beside the center table, holding a wine glass, his face flushed and beaming.

His voice carried across the entire courtyard.

"We finally got rid of that jinx! Come on, everyone — let's drink to our family's fresh start!"

The glasses went up.

They never reached anyone's lips.

The glass slipped from his hand, hit the ground, and shattered.

Bourne and Greya heard the noise and turned around at almost the same moment.

What they saw was Thorne stepping through the gate, and behind him, a dark crowd of people filling the entrance.

And last of all — Adrian's face, pale with fury.

Greya's fork slipped from her fingers and clattered against her plate.

Every relative at the table went quiet. The music was still playing, but no one was listening anymore.

Thorne stood in the middle of the courtyard, taking in the tables full of food and wine, the ribbons strung up in the trees. He smiled.

But there was something in that smile that could cut.