Chapter 6 Crimson Thrones

Valenhall City – Ravencourt Mansion

The evening air over Ravencourt Estate was unnervingly still. The once-frenzied atmosphere of maids bustling and guards pacing had been replaced with a tense, fragile silence. The halls, usually filled with soft laughter and clinking glasses, now bore only hushed whispers, fearful glances, and the distant echo of breaking glass.

In the grand living room, Alessia Besseti sat, her hand clenching a glass of wine as she stared at the wall-mounted television. The screen blazed with the headline that shattered her carefully crafted world:

Breaking News: Ravencourt Scandal - Heiress Impersonation Exposed

Reporters shouted questions at Stanley Besseti, who struggled to maintain his composure.

"President Stanley, is the real heiress dead?"

"What caused the fire seventeen years ago?"

"Is it true former butler Sophia Patel hid the child?"

"Did Miss Alessia knowingly impersonate the heiress?"

"Will she be prosecuted?"

I hear the Ravencourt legal department and the Velenhall high court has started to investigate.

I hear you are dismissed from your position at Ravencourt empire and also you are to restore everything back in the next 24 hours after the legal team calculated everything.

Currently it's close to 430 Million bucks after all everything used by the Ravencourt is high Quality.

How would you manage to settle it.

I hear miss Alessia account has been freeze,she is to move out in 24 hours due to the family ties.

The questions fell like daggers. Alessia's face burned with fury. A priceless jade antique shattered against the marble floor.

"Miss, please," Caleb the butler pleaded, moving to intercept another priceless artifact.

"That jade alone is seven million!" he warned. "The court already demanded repayment from you and Mr. Besseti. Breaking more will only add to the debt."

"Don't you dare speak to me like that!" Alessia snarled.

"I serve the Ravencourts," Caleb replied coolly. "And you are no longer one of them."

Stanley entered, his face ashen with rage. "Enough."

He dismissed the staff and locked the doors.

"Dad... how did it leak?" Alessia demanded.

"I don't know," Stanley growled. "But it came from The Obsidian Mirror. Harper Reed's name surfaced. Ruthless maniac - she topples noble families for fun."

Obsidian Mirror? The elite media outlets company that even the royal and nobles fear? She questioned in disbelief.

Alessia's throat tightened. "I heard Lily argued with her months ago." she lied actually she's the one not Lily.

"Lily's always been a damn liability," Stanley muttered.

She paced frantically. "What now? Everything's ruined - my place here, my engagement to Alessandro De Santos, my alliance with Nalani Cassandra... wasted!"

"You're still a Besseti," Stanley hissed. "We'll play this smart. Host a press conference. You'll cry, claim you were deceived. We'll blame your dead mother. Say you thought you were Charlotte's adopted child. Yo never claimed the real name,We'll twist the narrative."

Alessia wiped her tears, a flicker of cold calculation returning. "I can do that."

Stanley gripped her shoulder. "Good. I'll crush whoever did this."

Silicone City - Aether Entertainment

Meanwhile, at Aether Entertainment, Ixora's reputation soared after her commanding performance. The air buzzed with speculation. Crew members who once whispered behind her back now watched her with wary respect. Matteo stayed close, ever vigilant.

But unknown to her, forces from her buried past began to stir.

Valenhall - Villa Rosso Nero

Night draped itself thickly over Domenico Marchese's estate. The winding drive to Villa Rosso Nero was choked with gleaming black cars. Inside, the infamous dining hall gleamed with blood-red velvet drapes and flickering crystal chandeliers.

Five men gathered around a long mahogany table.

Valerio "The Butcher" Cortese, lord of Crimson Port's docks.

Giovanni D'Amato, Black Market Prince of Veloria.

Hector Malachi, Silicone City's weapons dealer.

Salvatore Vico, narcotics czar of East Valenhall.

And at the head - Domenico Marchese.

Domenico was an image of cold, ruthless elegance. Beside him stood Kael, silent, lethal.

"Gentlemen," Domenico greeted, his voice dark velvet. "Valenhall bleeds tonight. And when my city bleeds - you bleed too."

Servers appeared with courses of rare steak, blood-red wines, and oysters steeped in cognac.

"Ravencourt is collapsing," Domenico announced. "And from its ashes, new thrones will rise. Thrones we shall claim."

Salvatore smirked. "You mean to take Ravencourt?"

"I intend to control whoever inherits it."

Valerio grunted. "I hear the real heiress lives."

"She does," Domenico confirmed. "And I intend to crown her."

"Why not kill her?" Giovanni asked.

Domenico smiled coldly. "Because there's more poetry in making her mine."

At that moment, Valerio clapped his hands. Two guards dragged in a trembling, exquisite young woman - long black hair, amber eyes, silken skin. She was clad in sheer crimson silk.

"A gift," Valerio announced. "For you, Don Marchese. A beauty from the Eastern Docks. Untouched. Yours to break."

Domenico's eyes glittered.

He gestured to Kael. "Demonstration."

Kael nodded, and another woman was dragged in - a defector from Salvatore's house. Without hesitation, Kael delivered a brutal, elegant punishment. The dining hall filled with the sound of flesh against flesh, a performance of domination that left the room on edge.

The young beauty, trembling, was brought to Domenico's side.

"Valerio, you've outdone yourself."

He lifted her chin. "You belong to me now."

She nodded, terrified.

"To loyalty," Domenico toasted. "To new empires."

Glasses were raised, the men's allegiance sealed in crimson wine and blood.

Ravencourt Estate - Press Interview

The next morning, the estate's garden was staged for a live broadcast. Cameras, reporters, and legal observers filled the manicured lawns.

Alessia appeared in pale blue silk, her eyes red-rimmed, expression sorrowful. Stanley, by her side, wore tailored mourning black.

"I... I never knew," Alessia choked, her voice breaking on cue. "I grew up believing I was Charlotte Ravencourt's daughter. I called her mother... I loved her."

Tears slid down her face.

"I had no reason to doubt. I never sought to deceive."

Reporters bombarded her with questions.

"Did you ever suspect the truth?"

"Never," she whispered.

"What about your inheritance?"

"I don't care about wealth. I only want to mourn my mother... and

...help our family heal from these terrible revelations."

The cameras caught every trembling breath, every calculated tear. Stanley stood firm, his hand placed protectively on Alessia's shoulder, the image of a grieving, honorable father shielding his daughter from scandal.

A veteran reporter from The Obsidian Mirror stepped forward. "Miss Besseti - three last question. If the real heiress were to come forward now, would you step aside?"

A pause. The question hung in the air like a dagger.

Alessia's face faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, her voice trembling just right.

"I... I would. It's what Charlotte would have wanted."

I hear you are to leave the Ravencourt building today, are you claiming you are adopted a day before the incident provided the file you submitted.

She nod in tears.

So you mean you we still be Ravencourt even thou it wasn't entirely legalised and announced,she asked.

We follow the court ruling, Alessia said.

Of course,your has been changed back to Alessia Besseti, it's the court ruling since it wasn't documented by Mr Rutherford to the high court, so she doesn't need your approval ,th reporter said

Everyone nod in agreement

The cameras clicked, and Stanley gave a stiff nod. "That will be all for today."

They turned and walked back into the mansion as the questions resumed in a chaotic storm. Alessia's tear-streaked face hardened the moment they passed the threshold.

"That bitch," she hissed. "If she shows her face, I'll gut her myself."

Stanley gave a tight smile. "If she shows her face, she'll never leave Valenhall alive."

Elsewhere - Unknown Location

In the dim glow of a candlelit chamber, a figure watched the press conference from an old television screen. A young woman with sharp, storm-gray eyes and long dark hair tied back in a ribbon leaned forward, her expression unreadable.

"She's good," the woman murmured. "But not good enough."

A voice from the shadows spoke.

"It's time, Miss Ravencourt. Valenhall awaits its rightful queen."

Charlotte Ravencourt - alive, hardened by exile in trance state ,yet in coma but she heard everything, every details from the last 18 years she was here, cloaked in vengeance - tears for the first time in years shocking the scar bond lady whom smile.

"Let's burn them all."