Chapter 16: The Familiar Study

Alia followed Marcellus, her hand in his, her mind occupied by the subtle differences between the brothers' hands. Step by step, she allowed herself to be guided toward the study. The moment they crossed the door, her gaze was immediately drawn to the room before her.

It was an opulent study, fitting for someone of Marcellus's stature as the wealthiest man in the city. The space was vast, with a soaring ceiling adorned with intricate floral carvings. A massive crystal chandelier hung at its center, radiating brilliant light that reflected off the polished surfaces of the room. Dark oak bookshelves lined the walls, filled with heavy tomes whose embossed covers and gilded titles spoke of immense value.

At the heart of the room stood a grand desk, its finely carved legs and intricate surface detailing a testament to exquisite craftsmanship. On it sat an antique globe and a gilded quill pen, its ink bottle emitting a faint, fresh scent as if waiting for its owner to write at any moment.

Near the window, a velvet chaise lounge invited repose. The windowsill was adorned with meticulously pruned potted plants, their vibrant greenery adding a touch of life to the otherwise stately room. Beyond the window lay the garden, its central fountain sparkling under the sunlight and offering the soothing sound of flowing water.

The floor was covered in a plush carpet, soft and silent underfoot, bearing the kingdom's familiar double-lion insignia, a symbol of power and prestige. Paintings by renowned masters adorned the walls, their rich colors and elegant themes narrating tales of royal glory.

Alia's first impression was one of awe, her attention captivated by the luxurious surroundings. It rivaled the finest private libraries she had seen in her previous life as a thief. Gilded shelves, shimmering chandeliers, and ancient books all spoke of undeniable power and wealth. She couldn't help but think, "So much money… If I could sell everything here, how much would it fetch?"

But the moment she focused on the room—particularly the solid wood bookshelves—her entire body froze as if struck by lightning.

Her muscles tensed, her breath quickened. This wasn't just any study—this was that treasure room. Her mind flashed back to that nightmarish scene: the dim light of the chandelier casting shadows on the blood-soaked floor, Marcellus standing expressionless amidst the carnage, gun still smoking in his hand, while Livia lay helpless on the carpet. And then there was her—her own body collapsing onto this same ornate rug, the echoes of Marcellus's gunshot fading as her breathing grew shallow.

The memory hit her like a tidal wave. She would never forget that night. Nor could she ignore the haunting connection between this room and her darkest nightmare.

A chill ran down her spine, spreading through her limbs, as cold sweat soaked her back. Alia's knees buckled, and she dropped to a crouch, pressing her hands to the ground in an attempt to steady herself. Her face turned as pale as paper, her chest heaving as her heart pounded like a war drum in her ears.

"Livia?" Marcellus's voice held a subtle note of concern as he noticed her sudden distress. He quickly moved toward her. "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

"I'm fine…" Alia forced the words out, managing a faint smile, though her eyes darted away from his. She took a deep breath, desperately trying to compose herself, but she knew her reaction hadn't gone unnoticed.

Her trembling fingers grazed the edge of the carpet, and the familiar texture sent another shiver through her. She jerked her hand away, pretending to wipe her forehead with her sleeve to mask her agitation.

"Just a little dizzy. I may have overdone it during training," she said, rising to her feet with her gaze lowered, concealing her emotions. "It's nothing."

Marcellus frowned, his expression tinged with doubt, but he didn't press further. He steadied her by the arm, his voice deep with genuine concern. "You haven't fully recovered yet. Don't push yourself too hard. Let me know if you feel unwell."

Alia nodded lightly, her outward calm betraying none of the storm raging within her. She avoided looking directly at Marcellus, aware that his gentle demeanor could so easily disarm her. In that moment, she realized that her recent days of peace were nothing more than the calm before the storm—a deceptive respite before the tide turned. She was now submerged in a sea of uncertainty, surrounded by unseen dangers.

Her fingers curled into her palms, her nails digging into her skin. I can't afford to falter. Not now. Not ever, she reminded herself. Marcellus's kindness, his concern, and even his occasional vulnerability—all of it felt like a carefully woven web. Soft and silken, but lethally binding. One misstep, and she could be trapped, unable to escape.

Her gaze flicked briefly to his hand, the same hand that had held hers moments ago. The warmth of his touch lingered, yet a voice deep within her snapped coldly, That warmth is an illusion. Don't let it cloud your judgment. The memory of that fateful night remained etched in her mind like a blade's edge, a constant reminder: this man, standing before her with gentle words and steady hands, had once pulled the trigger without hesitation—and could do so again.

Her eyes swept across the study, taking in its grandeur and the secrets it held. This castle, this room, and the truths buried within them were far more dangerous than she had anticipated. Marcellus, Elias, and others she had yet to encounter were all threats. The mysteries she had yet to unravel, the dark clues lurking in the shadows, hung over her like a sword poised to strike.

And she knew—unless she uncovered the truth, unless she solved the riddles and found the answers she sought—her fate was sealed.

That fate was death.