CHAPTER 40: THE TRUMP CARD

(Evelina’s POV—Hartgrave Mansion—Continuation)

The living hall was silent. No one breathed. No one blinked. And Rowan—Rowan stood in front of me like a fortress forged from shadow and bone, blocking every path that could reach me.

Mother was the first to move.

She stepped forward with trembling hands, her voice soft... too soft.

"...Eve."

I looked at her.

Blank.

Emotionless.

She swallowed. "Where were you? And—"

Her eyes drifted over me. The scratches from tree branches. The torn sleeve. The damp ends of my hair. Signs of survival I didn’t try to hide.

Her eyes widened. "Can you... tell us what happened?"

The room tightened. Sera stopped breathing. Lucien straightened. Arden’s jaw clenched. Father hovered behind them like a man preparing for judgment.

I raised my chin, meeting their stares with icy calm.

"You aren’t going to ask why I ’attacked’ Kael Valtore?" I said softly. Too softly.

They stiffened.

Not one of them spoke. Then Lucien stepped forward—hesitant, but with the barest flicker of something real.

"What do you think we are?" he said quietly. "We know you can be careless, arrogant, selfish—"

My eyebrow twitched.

"—but you wouldn’t try to kill someone," he finished. "Not unless you had a reason."

What?

My breath stilled.

They... They were acting like family, and it irritated me.

My voice dropped cold. "Will you believe whatever I say?"

Arden exhaled sharply. His usual stoicism cracked into blunt honesty.

"ONLY if you tell the truth," he said. "If you lie... if you make excuses... we won’t believe you."

Ah.

There it is, the real Hartgrave blood.

Arden—never trusting, never warm, never gentle. Even with affection points up, he was still the same stone-hearted brother. Even though he is not Mr. Negative anymore, even though he behaved like a worried brother during the casino...that doesn’t change the fact that he is still a jerk.

I studied their faces.

Father—tense. Mother—worried. Lucien—earnest. Sera—hesitant. Arden—skeptical.

None of them were reliable.

None of them deserved the full truth.

But I spoke anyway. Calmly. Coldly. Clearly.

"I was the one who was attacked."

A ripple cut through the air.

Father’s hands clenched.

Mother gasped.

Sera stepped back.

Rowan’s gaze sharpened at the edges—watching every reaction, memorizing them.

"And the person," I continued, unfazed by their shock, "who tried to kill me...was Kael Valtore."

Silence.

Heavy.

Dense.

Unbelieving.

Their expressions overlapped—confusion, fear, denial, calculation. Lucien’s eyebrows drew together. Arden’s fists tightened. Mother covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Sera’s eyes widened as if I’d struck her.

Father... Father simply froze.

I didn’t look away.

I didn’t soften.

I didn’t explain.

I stood there—tall, untouched by their doubt, wrapped in Rowan’s silent protection like armor.

Because I expected nothing from them. Not trust. Not comfort. Not supported.

I didn’t need it.

I only needed the truth to be spoken aloud.

Whether they choke on it or swallow it—that is their problem.

Not mine.

Arden scoffed—sharp and cold. His voice cut through the room like broken glass. "Can’t you—just once—tell us the truth for God’s sake?"

I didn’t blink.

"We asked you to tell the truth," he continued, stepping forward, jaw tight. "Not to make up stories. Why would Kael try to kill you? He has no reason—"

"I. DON’T. CARE."

The words tore from my throat like a blade.

Arden flinched—as if he couldn’t comprehend that tone coming from me.

"...What?"

"I don’t care," I repeated, deadly calm, "whether you believe me or not. I’m not here to beg for trust. I’m not here to explain myself. I almost died because of him—that is a fact. Believe it or don’t—that burden is yours, not mine."

The hall fell into suffocating silence.

Even the air seemed to hesitate.

Then—

"...We trust you, my dear." Mother’s voice—soft. Trembling. Reaching toward me across a chasm years wide.

But Arden snapped.

"MOTHER." His voice cracked with fury. "How can you trust her? How?! When everything she’s done—everything she’s caused—proves otherwise!"

Mother glared, low and fierce. "And how do you know the person telling the truth is Kael, not Eve?"

"BECAUSE SHE HAS DONE THIS. MANY. TIMES!!!"

His shout tore through the hall like thunder.

I froze.

For a single breath, my fingers twitched at my side. Arden strode forward, yanking Sera gently behind him as if shielding her from me.

"This girl," he said, voice shaking with anger, "is living proof. Evelina tried to kill her. More than once. Did you forget that? Do you want me to remind you?"

Mother’s lips trembled. Father looked away. Sera lowered her eyes. The room suffocated under past sins I never committed—but Evelina had, or...even she was framed and didn’t care to explain them.

Their silence was louder than any accusation. And for a heartbeat—just a heartbeat—something stung deep inside my chest.

But I didn’t let it show.

I refused to.

My voice turned to winter. "Rowan."

He stepped close, bowing his head slightly. "Yes, Miss?"

"Let’s go."

"Understood."

We turned toward the staircase—cold, detached, untouchable. But just as my foot touched the bottom step—

"...I believe you."

I paused.

Slowly—very slowly—I turned my head.

Lucien stood there. Not angry. Not confused. Not afraid.

Just... sincere.

"I know you wouldn’t do something like that," he said quietly. "Not that. Not murder."

His voice wasn’t dramatic.Wasn’t theatrical.Wasn’t even loud.

Just real.

For the first time tonight.

The hall seemed to shift. The weight in my chest... moved.

Only slightly.

But Rowan saw it.I knew he did.

I lifted my chin. "I’m going back to my room."

Then I ascended the stairs.

Without looking back. Without acknowledging the storm I left behind. Without letting Arden’s words bleed me alive.

Rowan followed right behind me—silent, deadly, unwavering.

***

(Later—My Room, Hartgrave Mansion—Night)

Arden’s words didn’t break me.

They simply reminded me—this house was never mine. This family was never mine. And their belief or their disbelief will never decide my fate.

Only I do.

Rowan stood a few steps away, posture straight, eyes fixed on me with that unreadable intensity—waiting for my command, my thoughts, my next move.

"Miss," he asked quietly, "what are you going to do now?"

I sank onto the velvet couch with slow, deliberate grace. Crossed one leg over the other. Tapped a single finger on the armrest—steady, rhythmic, cold.

"A very simple thing, Rowan," I murmured. "I’m going to take back control."

His brows lowered a fraction. "Kael Valtore has played a dangerous game."

I smirked.

"No. He played a dirty one."

Rowan took a step closer, tension threading through his voice. "And why do you believe he did this, Miss? Why frame you?"

I hummed, eyes drifting toward the faint lights outside my window.

"Because he never wanted Vinter and Hartgrave to cooperate," I said, voice silky with disdain. "Theo Vinter extending a hand to my father? That would strengthen us. Secure us. Make Hartgrave untouchable in the market."

My lips curled.

"And Kael Valtore cannot afford that. His company is losing ground—slowly, quietly... desperately."

Rowan’s eyes sharpened. "So he turned you into a scapegoat."

"Of course he did."

I leaned back against the couch, the firelight casting sharp angles across my face.

"He needed chaos. A distraction. A villain to throw to the public. And who better than me? The Hartgrave heiress with a messy history and a reputation the media loves to tear apart."

Rowan’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Miss..." he said, voice low, "if he truly attempted to kill you—"

"He did," I corrected, tone icy. "Without hesitation. Without guilt."

I tilted my head, my smile cold and refined.

"And he failed."

Rowan swallowed—barely visible. "Then what will you do now?"

I let my smirk bloom—slow, venomous, amused.

"Do you know, Rowan," I whispered, "what high society does when everything stops working in their favor? They play a card."

He straightened slightly. His eyes locked on mine. "What card is that, Miss?"

I tapped my finger once more.

"A very important one."

A card that destroys reputations.

Ruins alliances.Ends careers.Breaks kings.

"A trump card," I said softly.

"The kind," I continued, voice dipping into a slow, deadly whisper, "that flips the entire table."

Rowan’s breath hitched—subtle, controlled, but unmistakable. Not fear. Anticipation.

He knew.

War was coming.

"And Kael Valtore..." I let his name glide off my tongue like poison-coated silk, "has already played his trump card.So now, we will use the same weapon against him."

Rowan’s brows knit—focused, intent.

"Expose him... in front of the media?" he asked.

"Precisely."

I leaned back into the velvet cushions as though discussing a garden tea party—not a public execution.

"But..." his tone tightened, "how are we going to do that, Miss? He has already framed you. The narrative is against you."

I looked at him slowly.

Deliberately.

The corners of my lips curved into a smile that was not nice.

"There is only one way," I said.

His eyes locked on mine—sharp, unwavering.

"Rowan," I spoke quietly, each syllable dipped in ice, "call the police."

He stiffened. His eyes widened—a rare, flickering break in the mask.

"Miss," he whispered, "if we do that—it will—"

"Yes," I cut him off, voice slicing through the air. "I know."

"You will be arrested," he warned, barely maintaining composure.

"I know, Rowan."

"You may be detained without an attorney present."

"I know."

"Kael Valtore could—"

"ROWAN." My voice echoed across the room, low and commanding enough to make the walls shiver.

He fell silent immediately.

I rose from the couch in one smooth motion, stepping closer until the firelight cast my face in sharp, dangerous angles.

"This is exactly what Kael Valtore wants," I murmured, eyes glittering with cold calculation."And we are going to give him exactly what he wants."

Rowan’s jaw clenched. "And after that, Miss?"

I leaned in—slowly, elegantly—until my breath grazed his ear.

"After that," I whispered, "you will do exactly as I say. No hesitation. No doubt. No questions."

His breath stilled.

Then—He bowed his head.

"As you command," Rowan said softly. "I will obey."

Good.

He understood.

The game was no longer survival. It was checkmate. And Kael Valtore had just invited me onto the board.

I turned toward the window, the city lights flickering like awaiting spectators.

"Call them," I ordered.

Rowan raised his phone.

Calling the police to report that Evelina Hartgrave had been found.