"Ha!"
Valen Malavant's laughter echoed through the Denvair family hall, dripping with disdain.
"Repay me? With what? Do you think the Denvair family is still the shining jewel of Port Avallon?" He sneered, his voice growing louder as he pointed an accusatory finger at Lady Seraphine Denvair.
"Your estates are hemorrhaging gold, your businesses barely afloat. At this rate, you'll be lucky to keep this crumbling estate. In a few months, you'll be fighting the rats in the alley for scraps!"
The sharpness of his words pierced through the room, silencing the anger of Lady Seraphine and her daughter, Celine. Their faces drained of defiance, replaced with unease and a creeping sense of helplessness.
"Seraphine! Celine! Apologize to Lord Malavant at once!" Lady Catherine, the Denvair matriarch, barked, her frail hands trembling.
Valen smirked, basking in their humiliation. The once-proud Denvair family was now nothing more than a shadow, clawing at its dignity.
He leaned in closer. "Victor Silvervein has taken an interest in Lyria. That's the best fortune your family could hope for. Cross him, and you won't even know how you died!"
The mention of Victor Silvervein sent ripples through the room. Valen's confidence grew, his words sharp and deliberate. "If it weren't for Victor's favor, the Malavant family wouldn't be where we are today. You should be thanking him for this chance!"
The name Victor Silvervein rang in Kael Renforth's ears, triggering something primal. His eyes narrowed into icy slits, and in a blur, he moved.
Before anyone could react, Kael's hand was around Valen's throat, lifting him clean off the ground. Valen's boots dangled in midair as he gasped for breath, his confidence evaporating in an instant.
"Say it again," Kael growled, his voice low and frigid. "Who dares lay a hand on my wife?"
Kael's rage was palpable, his grip unyielding. The Denvair family was his line in the sand, and Lyria was the heart of it. Any threat to her was met with a cold, unrelenting fury.
The room froze, Lady Catherine among them. Her eyes widened, and for a brief moment, fear replaced her usual stern composure.
"Kael Renforth!" she shouted, her voice breaking through the tension. "Put him down! You've caused enough trouble already!"
Kael's gaze flicked to Lady Catherine, his expression unreadable. After a tense moment, he loosened his grip, letting Valen fall unceremoniously to the floor.
Valen coughed violently, his face pale as he scrambled back into the arms of his bodyguards. His bravado shattered, he managed a single, shaky "You'll regret this," before limping out of the hall.
But everyone in the room knew: Valen might have retreated, but the Malavant family—and their powerful allies—would not let this go unanswered.
Half an hour later, the Denvair family's inner circle gathered in the grand hall. Lady Catherine sat at the head of the table, her presence commanding despite the weight of their predicament. Around her sat a dozen family members, their faces etched with worry.
"This is a disaster," said Eldrin Denvair, Lyria's uncle, his tone sharp and accusatory. "We've made an enemy of the Malavant family. How do you propose we survive this?"
Celine stood suddenly, her eyes bright with hope. "Father has been honored for his victory on the frontlines! The Malavant family might think twice before pressing us further."
Her words brought a flicker of hope, but it was short-lived. Lady Catherine shook her head gravely.
"Victor Silvervein is the real power behind the Malavants," she said. "Even with a new title, we are leagues away from matching the Silvervein Syndicate."
The mere mention of the Silvervein name cast a dark shadow over the room.
Victor Silvervein, heir to the wealthiest noble house in Lumirest, was a name spoken with reverence and fear alike. His influence stretched far beyond the capital, and his ambitions left no room for resistance.
Just as the conversation reached its lowest point, the grand doors creaked open. A gust of cold air swept in, carrying with it a striking figure.
"Lyria!" Celine exclaimed, rushing to greet her sister.
Lyria Denvair walked into the room with measured grace, her beauty undimmed by the exhaustion lining her face. Her return brought a flicker of light to the room, but the weight of their plight quickly returned.
"Mother," Celine began hesitantly, "Victor Silvervein has taken a liking to Lyria. If she were to marry into the Silvervein Syndicate, it would secure the Denvair family's future."
The room grew silent as every pair of eyes turned to Lyria. Their stares were hopeful, desperate, as though she were their only salvation.
"Enough!" Lyria's voice cut through the tension. Her sharp tone silenced even Lady Catherine.
"I am married," she declared, her eyes sweeping across the room. Her words were resolute, cold, and unyielding. "And no one—not even Victor Silvervein—will change that."