Chapter 4 The Throne She Dared to Claim

The ballroom was empty now.

Gone were the glittering lights, the murmuring crowd, the music that once masked tension with elegance. What remained was silence - and the weight of power that still hung in the air.

Lyra walked through the grand hall with careful steps, her boots echoing faintly against the marble. Her throat was dry, but she kept her chin high. She had nothing left to hide. If she was going to die tonight, she'd at least go out speaking the truth.

This was never about just stealing documents. That had only been her leverage.

This - confronting him - had always been the original plan.The one she'd planned for from the start.

She reached the far side of the estate, where the old private wing was lit dimly in warm gold. Two guards shifted at the door, but they didn't stop her. He was expecting her.

Of course he was.

The study was dark except for the fire in the hearth and the quiet clink of a glass being set down.

She stepped in - and stopped.

Because there he was. Damian Arceo.

No throne, no crown. Just a man leaning casually against the edge of his desk, black shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled. His suit jacket hung loosely behind him, and his dark eyes flicked toward her like he'd been waiting for hours, not minutes.

And damn it - he was beautiful.

The kind of beautiful that made you forget he ran an empire built on blood and fear.

For a moment, her breath caught. No photo had done justice to the precision of him. The lean strength. The way silence wrapped around him like armor.

She hated that her stomach dipped.

He didn't move.

"So here's the thief," he said slowly, "Did you come to confess your crime or just to gawk?"

She recovered instantly, jaw locking. "I came to tell you the truth. The whole thing."

Damian raised a brow. "And breaking into my basement was part of your telling the truth?"

She stepped closer, no hesitation.

"That was insurance. This-" she gestured between them, "-was always the real move."

She stopped a few feet from him, no longer playing small.

"You know I'm not on that guest list. You know I faked my way in. And if you were going to kill me for it, you would've done it already."

Damian poured another drink, offering her none.

"I've let you live. That doesn't mean I'm not deciding."

"Then let me help you," she said sharply. "I'm Lyra Vale. Celina's daughter."

That caught his attention. A flicker.

"I don't need you to believe me. I just need you to understand I'm not here for scraps. I'm here to take what's mine. I have the blood. The name. And you- "

She looked him in the eye.

"You don't want the throne. You never did. I can see it in you. You wear this empire like it's a debt you didn't sign for."

Damian's jaw tensed.

"You think claiming blood will give you the crown?"

"No," she said. "But it gives me a right to fight for it."

He stared at her in silence, then took a slow sip of his drink. His voice, when it came, was cool steel. Almost couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You really think you'll survive in a world like this?"

Lyra stepped closer, fire in her chest.

"I've survived worse than you, Arceo."

They stared at each other - rivals, strangers, something heavier in the air neither could name yet. Then Damian set his glass down and circled behind her slowly. She didn't flinch. Let him test her. Let him see she wouldn't run.

"You broke into my home," he murmured. "Stole files. Lied to my guards. Trespassed into a world that kills people for less."

"And yet," she said without turning, "you helped me escape."

He stopped behind her. Close enough she could feel the heat of him.

"You recognized me, didn't you?" she asked. "Back there. In the basement. That was you in the hoodie." He didn't answer. Just stepped in front of her again and gave the faintest smirk.

"You're very sure of yourself for someone who just walked into a lion's den."

Lyra's eyes gleamed.

"And you're awfully calm for someone whose throne is about to be claimed."

He studied her for a long moment.

Then, without warning, Damian poured a second drink and slid it toward her across the table.

She didn't take it.

"I don't need your invitation," she said.

"No," he replied, "but you're going to need my protection."

She paused.

"I never asked for it."

"You didn't have to." His smirk deepened. "You're still breathing."