CHAPTER 39: THE VILLAINESS ROUTE

(Evelina’s POV—Aurelis Times Square)

The wind shifted—heavy, electric—like the world itself paused.

Then—D I N G !!!

A new system window snapped open in front of me, glowing blood-red and gold:

[ System: New Episode Activated—"The Witch They Tried to Frame." Reward: +10 Affection Points (All Characters). Reputation: +100. Status: Villainess Route — Dark Branch Unlocked. ]

My jaw tightened.

Affection points. Reputation. New episode.

None of it mattered. All of this—every lie, every smear, every accusation—started because of him.

Kael Valtore.

If I had simply reached home... If the assassins hadn’t attacked... If I had given those 10,000 gold coins to the system... I would have unlocked my hidden route by now. I would have been free. I would have been controlled by the destiny I had created.

But instead—HE. TRIED. TO. KILL. ME.

And now frame him.

My fingers curled into a fist so tight my nails bit into my skin.

Fine. If he wanted to play with a witch, I would show him hell.

Rowan stepped closer, expression sharp, voice tense. "Miss... what are we going to do?"

I turned to him slowly, the city’s glow casting shadows across my face. My smile was cold. Refined. Dangerous.

"We go back," I said, each word cold enough to freeze blood. "To Hartgrave."

Rowan nodded immediately—but he wasn’t calm. His body tensed. His hand hovered protectively near my back.

"We must be careful," he warned. "People might recognize you."

"They won’t," I said flatly. "Not yet."

My reputation just skyrocketed from infamy to legendary wickedness. The world feared me. Loved to hate me.

But fear was useful. Hate was predictable.

And panic? Panic made people sloppy.

I stepped forward, head high, dress torn, hair wild from the river—yet every movement was deliberate, elegant, and imperial, like a villainess returning from death itself.

Rowan fell into step behind me—silent, shadow-like, deadly.

Cars honked. Screens blared lies. People stared at the news with horror. And in that chaos—one thought slid through my mind like poison:

What are the Hartgraves thinking right now?

The perfect family. The pillars of society. The ones who abandoned Evelina, ignored her, condemned her, slapped her, doubted her, dismissed her—now their daughter was wanted for attempted murder.

Now the world was watching them.

Now the world believed their daughter had tried to kill Aurelis City’s golden boy.

I wonder... What face my dear family is making... while the world hunts me for a crime I did not commit.

But one thing is certain.

I looked up at the enormous screen once more—Kael’s injured, saintly face plastered in false agony.

My lips curled.

Kael is about to discover exactly who the villainess he tried to injure is.

My heels clicked against the ground—slow, sharp, and final.

With the promise of retribution laced in every syllable, we vanished into the night.

Heading back to the mansion. Heading back to the family. Heading back to the storm. Heading back to reclaim everything that was stolen from Evelina.

***

[Hartgrave Mansion—Later —Back Wall]

The Hartgrave mansion loomed behind its walls—cold, towering, immaculate... and currently swarmed by media like vultures circling a fresh corpse.

Fantastic.

Exactly the welcome I expected.

Rowan stood below the high stone wall, arms open, posture steady, as if reenacting some tragic Titanic romance scene—but with murder in the air instead of violins.

"You may jump now, Miss," he said calmly, face tilted up toward me. "I will catch you."

I sat perched on the narrow wall like a very annoyed cat, staring down at him with a sigh that could have leveled nations.

"I still cannot believe," I muttered, "that I, Evelina Hartgrave, am jumping off my own property wall because the damn media has turned my home into a crime scene."

Rowan didn’t blink.Didn’t smirk.Didn’t even question it.

"Miss," he repeated patiently, arms still held out with perfect stability, "jump."

I inhaled.

"Alright... here goes my dignity."

I squeezed my eyes shut—because falling face-first into Rowan’s arms was embarrassing enough without making eye contact—and pushed forward.

FREE—FALL—WHOOSH—

And then—Strong arms closed around me with surgical precision.

Warm. Solid. Controlled.

"I told you," Rowan murmured against my hair, "you should not close your eyes while jumping."

I opened mine slowly.

His face was far too close. His heartbeat was far too steady. And I was... still in his arms.

"...I’m alive," I whispered.

He lowered me gently until my feet touched the ground. "Of course you are, Miss."

I brushed dirt off my skirt, exhaling sharply. "Thank God."

Rowan straightened his coat, scanning the surroundings like a shadow waiting for an ambush.

"We must enter through the kitchen door," he said. "The main and back gates are blocked. Too many reporters."

"Naturally," I muttered. "Of course they’re camping at my doorstep."

Rowan stepped slightly in front of me, guiding the way—not touching me, not dragging me, but always within reach.

"We need to move quickly," he added, voice low. "Your family may be forced to release a statement."

I scoffed. "They probably declared me dead, insane, or disowned."

His eyes darkened—just a trace.

We slipped through the shadowed garden path, stepping over trimmed hedges and the faint glow of landscape lights. The night air was tense—too silent. Too still.

I could already feel it.

A storm is waiting behind those walls.

He stopped at the side entrance, placing a hand gently—but firmly—on my arm.

I wondered how they will welcome me once I enter... They may confront me. They may accuse me. They may try to turn me in.

And together—down the side path, through the quiet garden, toward the looming kitchen door—we walked straight toward the family who raised me—not to greet them.

To see who among them wanted me dead.

***

(Hartgrave Mansion, Kitchen Entrance)

The kitchen lights flickered as the maids turned. The moment they saw me— Their eyes widened.

Their breath hitched. A few plates nearly slipped from trembling hands.

I stepped into the doorway—cold, soaked, bruised, and smiling like a threat.

They scattered backward instantly, whispering like frightened birds.

I walked past them without a word, Rowan’s presence a dark shadow at my back. His steps were silent, but the weight of him—alert, assessing, ready to kill—filled the entire room.

When we entered the living hall, I heard voices.

Urgent. Sharp. Tense.

"Father," Sera was saying, placing a delicate hand on his arm, "you must release a statement. Stocks are falling by the hour. If this continues, the Hartgrave name will collapse. We... we will be ruined..."

Her voice trembled.

Fake.

Practiced.

Father sat rigid in his leather chair, fingers pressed against his lips—thinking hard. Too hard. Mother sat nearby, distant, wringing a shawl between her fingers anxiously.

Lucien and Arden were stiff in the corner.

I smiled.

Slow. Dangerous. Elegant.

Then stepped fully into the room.

"Well," I said sweetly, venom dripping like honey, "what statement are we releasing, Father? That you intend to disown me?"

Five heads snapped toward me.

The air cracked.

Silence detonated across the hall. Mother’s hand flew to her mouth. Sera paled. Lucien choked on his breath. Arden went stiff as stone.

Father—Father shot to his feet.

"EVELINA—!!" he barked, storming toward me—hand raised, fury twisting his face.

But he never reached me.

Because Rowan moved.

Fast.

Silent.

Deadly.

He stepped in front of me like a fortress made of stone and shadow. His arm rose, blocking Father with effortless precision.

His stare—Cold. Sharp. Uncompromising.

It was not a warning. It was a promise of violence.

Father froze mid-step, eyes widening. Rowan’s voice dropped into a tone that filled the entire mansion with frost.

"Sir," he said with terrifying calm, "if you dare to raise your hand against Miss Evelina—even once—I will intervene."

"YOU—!" Father snarled, furious. "How dare you stand between me and my daughter. Do you think I will raise my hand on her?"

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. Just slightly. But enough to silence him.

Then, Rowan spoke again. Lower. Sharper.

"I apologize for my bluntness. But based on the rumors circulating in this house... based on your past actions... Yes. His words were a blade. "You are a threat to her."

Father staggered back a step.

Mother gasped.

Sera’s lips trembled.

I stood behind Rowan, watching the scene unfold, my smirk widening.

Then—Father’s eyes lifted.

To me.

And suddenly—his expression broke. Not with fury. Not with coldness. But something that startled me more than any slap could have.

"...I was worried," he whispered.

My breath hitched.

"What?"

He took a step forward—slowly this time, carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal.

"My dear," he said softly, "thank the gods you’re alive. I thought...I thought we had lost you."

I froze.

What—?

The others stared at him wide-eyed.

Mother rose shakily from her seat. "Evie..." she whispered, "we were so afraid... your room was empty... the news said you were missing... we—"

Lucien stepped forward too. Arden’s jaw clenched with something like concern. Even Sera’s eyes softened in the corner.

What...?

What is this?

A soft chime sounded above each of their heads—tiny glowing numbers shifting like floating illusions.

Affection Points.

All of them.

+30%.

All of them—had risen.

DING!!!

A bigger system window flashed before my eyes.

[System: Congratulations! You have gained +200 Reputation Points among the Hartgrave Household.]

[Current Reputation: Rising Favor — "They fear your downfall."]

I stood speechless.

I didn’t trust any of it.

Not the sudden affection. Not the sudden care. Not the sudden panic in their eyes.

But the numbers... They were real.

The system didn’t lie.

I clenched my fists slowly.

"...What in the world," I whispered under my breath.

Behind me, Rowan’s presence steadied like a shadow embracing my spine. The Hartgraves’ affection was rising.