CHAPTER 54: A NAME ERASED

[Evelina’s POV—Vinter Mansion—After Breakfast Begins]

The little girl swung her legs beneath the oversized chair, humming to herself as she smeared strawberry jam across warm bread with careless delight.

Crumbs dotted the table.

Jam stained her fingers.

And Theo Vinter—Theo Vinter watched her like the world wasn’t ending outside these walls.

There was a softness in his gaze. Not weakness. Not a distraction. Something... guarded. Something precious. The kind of gentleness no one ever survived seeing.

I caught it.

And he noticed me catching it. His eyes lifted, amusement flickering through gold.

"Her name is Alina," he said casually.

I didn’t look at him. "I didn’t ask."

Alina giggled, unfazed.

Theo leaned back in his chair, entirely too relaxed for a man who had ordered executions less than an hour ago. "You should still know," he said lightly.

Then he leaned closer, his voice dipping into something wicked.

"You’ll be her aunt."

I paused mid-bite.

"...Pardon?"

His smirk widened, slow and deliberate, like he enjoyed watching reality snap. "So," he continued smoothly, changing the subject with expert ease, "where are you planning to go—when the world outside is in chaos?"

Chaos.

Yes.

The outside world was burning quietly.

Two headlines dominated every screen: Kael Valtore accuses Evelina Hartgrave—claims attempted murder.

Kael Valtore is missing—suspected foreign escape.

No body.

No evidence.

No answers.

Only Theo Vinter’s silence.

"I have to meet a lawyer," I said.

"A lawyer?" he echoed.

"Yes. I’m cutting ties with the Hartgraves."

He watched me for a long second—then leaned closer again, eyes sharp. "And after that?"

I exhaled. "...I’ll be leaving."

Silence.

Not from the room.

From him.

Then—"You can live with me."

I looked up sharply.

"Here," Theo continued calmly, as if offering tea. "In my mansion. Until I’m around you, no one will ever dare lay a finger on you."

There it was.

The cage disguised as protection.

I studied him carefully.

This man wasn’t dangerous because he threatened. He was dangerous because he meant it.

"I’ll think about it," I said carefully.

He smiled like he’d already won. "Don’t forget the promise, babe."

I frowned. "Promise?"

His brow lifted mockingly.

Oh.

Right.

The port. The gold.

Theo leaned back, folding his hands lazily. "I’ve given you thirty thousand gold coins in total," he said. "So... that makes three wishes, doesn’t it?"

"What—you—are you trying to scam me?" I clenched my fist, then forced myself to breathe.

He chuckled, saying, "Scam, babe, I was just speaking logically."

Ugh...he was right.

Annoyingly right.

"...What do you want?" I asked flatly.

Theo didn’t hesitate.

"First," he said, eyes glinting, "call me Theo. Not Mr. Vinter."

I blinked. "...That’s your first wish?"

"Yes," he replied without shame. "I want to hear my name from my babe’s lips."

I stared at him for a long second.

"...Alright. Theo," I said stiffly. "Happy?"

He closed his eyes briefly.

"Very."

I hated that it worked.

"And the other two?" I asked.

"Second," he said, voice steady now, "you live with me. Here. In this mansion from now on."

My eyes widened. "That’s not possible. Rumors will spread. It could harm you—"

"I don’t care," he cut in smoothly. "And you don’t care about other people’s opinions either."

He leaned forward again. "So my second wish stands."

I clenched my jaw. I wanted independence. I wanted distance. But then staying close to him... Might end this game faster.

Might answer the question I was terrified to confirm.

What if Theo Vinter is the deleted male lead? Because...his behavior is totally the same as the deleted male lead sounds.

"...Alright," I said quietly.

His smile was immediate. Satisfied. Dangerous.

"And the third?" I asked.

He stood, placing a hand briefly on Alina’s head. "I’ll tell you when the time comes."

Of course he would.

I sighed and took another bite of breakfast, suddenly exhausted.

This wasn’t a negotiation. This was a contract with a devil who smiled like a king.

Gosh.

I feel like a genie trapped in a bottle... And Theo Vinter is Aladdin—with mafia money and three wishes.

And the worst part?

I don’t know whether I just agreed to my salvation—or my doom.

"By the way," Theo added casually, as if we were discussing the weather and not my entire future, "you don’t need to look for a lawyer."

I looked up. "What?"

"Ravel will handle everything," he said. "I’ll call him."

Of course.

The Vinter family lawyer.The same man who dismantled a police station with a folder and a pen.

It wasn’t a bad idea.

"...Alright," I said after a beat. "Thank you."

Theo nodded once, already pulling out his phone. His fingers moved quickly, efficiently. No hesitation. No doubt.

"I have some matters to handle," he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket as he stood. "We’ll talk later."

I nodded.

And just like that, he left—his presence retreating, but not disappearing. Theo Vinter never truly left a room. He simply stopped occupying the center of it.

I exhaled slowly and leaned back in my chair.

Then—

"Are you really going to be my aunt?"

I stiffened.

Alina was looking at me now, golden eyes bright, legs swinging as she sipped her milk like this conversation wasn’t life-altering.

I blinked. "Your uncle lives in a very big delusion, sweetie," I said calmly. "Don’t believe everything he says."

She hummed thoughtfully. Then tilted her head.

"But you and Uncle look good together," she said matter-of-factly. "Why don’t you just marry him and become my aunt?"

. . .

. . .

Children should not be this blunt. I stared at her for a long moment—then smiled faintly. "Do you love your uncle?"

Her face lit up instantly. She stretched her arms as wide as they could go.

"THIS much," she declared proudly. "I love my uncle sooo much."

I chuckled despite myself.

So innocent.

So sincere.

So dangerous in the wrong house. I stood, smoothing my sleeves. "Don’t forget to drink your milk, sweetie. I’ll see you later."

I turned to leave—And then—

"I’ll make sure you and Uncle end up together."

My steps faltered. I turned slowly. Alina was smiling.

Not mischievous.Not smug.Just... innocent.

But something cold slid down my spine anyway.

"That’s very ambitious of you," I said lightly.

She only smiled wider.

I didn’t reply.

I walked away, and I didn’t look back.

***

[Later—Study Room, Vinter Mansion]

Attorney Ravel arrived precisely on time.

No announcement. No wasted words. Just the quiet presence of a man who treated legal warfare like breathing. He carried no briefcase—only a thin leather folder tucked under one arm.

A man who didn’t need evidence.

A man who was evidence.

"Miss Hartgrave," he said, inclining his head just enough to be polite—but not enough to imply equality. "Mr. Vinter informed me of your intentions."

"I want to sever all legal ties with the Hartgrave family," I said, folding my hands and crossing my legs. "Financial. Emotional. Corporate. Blood or otherwise."

Ravel studied me for a long second.

"As in," he continued calmly, "you wish to become legally nonexistent to them."

"Yes."

"No inheritance," he clarified.

"Yes."

"No claim to Hartgrave assets," he pressed.

"Yes."

"No protection under their name," he added quietly.

"Yes."

"No right to return," he finished.

"...Yes."

. . .

. . .

The fireplace crackled. Ravel nodded once—slowly—like a judge delivering a silent sentence.

"Very well."

He opened the folder and slid several documents across the desk. The paper was thick. Heavy. Official in the way that made governments nervous.

"We will begin with a formal disinheritance declaration," he said. "Your name will be removed from all Hartgrave corporate records, trust funds, bloodline succession files, and emergency claim registries."

My pulse slowed—not from fear.

From relief.

"Next," he continued, flipping a page, "a complete withdrawal from shared assets. Any funds tied to your birth name will be frozen, audited, and then permanently locked from Hartgrave access."

"Good."

Ravel’s eyes flicked up at that—brief interest flashing there.

"And finally," he said, voice dropping a fraction, "an injunction. The Hartgrave family will be legally prohibited from using your name, likeness, or existence for reputation repair, corporate leverage, or public sympathy."

He paused.

"If they attempt to do so," he added mildly, "they will lose everything."

Not may lose.

Will.

I leaned forward slightly. "What about retaliation?"

Ravel’s mouth curved—not into a smile, but something close.

"They can try," he said. "But the moment this is signed, you fall under Vinter legal protection."

Ah.

There it was.

"And if they come after me personally?" I asked.

Ravel closed the folder halfway. "Miss Hartgrave," he said evenly, "the Hartgraves would not survive a legal war with the Vinters."

The implication was clear.

This wasn’t law. This was execution—delayed, clean, and irreversible.

He slid the final document toward me.

"Once you sign," he said, "you are no longer Evelina Hartgrave."

No family.No past.No obligations.

"No inheritance," he repeated. "No claims. No responsibility."

I picked up the pen. For half a second, my hand hovered.

Not in doubt.

In acknowledgment. This was the moment the story split in two.

Then—I signed.

The pen scratched across the paper, sharp and final. The moment the ink dried, something inside my chest loosened—like chains falling away that I hadn’t realized were digging into my skin.

Ravel gathered the documents with surgical precision and slid them back into the folder.

"It’s done," he said.

Just like that, a lifetime erased in five minutes. I leaned back slowly, staring at the ceiling.

The Hartgrave Chapter was over.

Finished.

For the first time since entering this cursed world, I wasn’t surviving someone else’s story.

I was writing my own.