Chapter 108
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Even the family’s wolfhound had been taken on that spring vacation.
Groomed monthly, fed imported kibble enriched with omega oils and calcium tablets, pampered with more love and resources than most orphaned pups in the Eastern Wilds could ever dream of–Fubao had lived like royalty.
But Riley?
She had been left behind like an afterthought.
They’d spent five–figure sums each month on Fubao’s well–being. But Riley? She couldn’t even afford her tuition unless she worked part–time and relied on academic scholarships.
The contrast was absurd. Cruel.
A montage of memories surged through Kael Vale’s mind like a broken projector, flickering in bursts–Riley standing by the garden gate, clutching her books tightly as the family drove off for their trip; Riley eating reheated leftovers while the family feasted; Riley trying to patch her torn uniform while Scarlett got silk- lined cloaks imported from the capital.
The ache in his gut exploded.
A violent, scorching pain tore through his abdomen like a blade, and before Kael could register what was happening, a thick mouthful of blood burst from his lips, splattering across the desk–across Riley’s photo.
His hands scrambled in a panic, trying to wipe it away.
“No, no, no…”
But the more he wiped, the worse it got. The blood only smeared deeper, staining Riley’s face until it looked as if she were soaked in crimson.
It was mockery. Divine punishment.
Her life–her existence in the Vale family–had been soaked in blood since the beginning.
Kael stumbled back, barely breathing, his chest constricting with guilt so suffocating it made him dizzy. He slammed the journal shut, threw it into the drawer, and yanked it closed with trembling fingers.
He gripped the bloodied photograph in his hand, desperate to leave the storage room, to escape the ghosts clawing at his soul.
But as he stood, the world tilted dangerously.
The spinning came fast. His vision darkened. Then he collapsed.
He hit the floor with a thud, pain radiating from his gut like shards of ice. More blood spilled from his lips, pooling beside his head. His fingers twitched against the cold stone, and he groaned, helpless.
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His hand clawed for his phone.
It took three tries before he could dial.
The line clicked.
“Kael? What’s going on?” Theo’s voice came through, groggy but alert.
Kael opened his mouth, but no words came. Just choking coughs. More blood.
Theo’s voice rose in alarm. “Kael?! What the hell happened–are you injured?!”
After a long silence broken only by labored breathing, Kael finally whispered in a voice that barely resembled his own.
“I… I was wrong… I was so wrong…”
Theo froze on the other end.
The pain. The sorrow. It was like Kael’s soul had cracked.
“I saw her awards,” Kael whispered. “Her Ashmoor letter. The portrait. Gods, what have I done…”
Theo didn’t know what to say. He’d never heard Kael like this–not even when Kael had broken three ribs. during a border skirmish. This wasn’t physical pain.
This was grief.
“I’m coming to you now. Don’t move. Don’t hang up.” Theo said firmly, already throwing on his coat.
The line went dead.
Kael lay motionless, staring blankly at the ceiling, his blood and tears pooling beneath him.
Memories flooded in–Riley shivering in the hallway during a snowstorm because she had no proper coat. Riley looking longingly at the locked study where Kael and Scarlett prepared for academic competitions. Riley quietly sewing her own uniform after Scarlett “accidentally” tore it.
Every slight. Every cruelty,
He hadn’t noticed.
Hadn’t cared.
Now, all he could see was her face, eyes hollow with betrayal.
The photograph in his hand, soaked in his own blood, pulsed like a curse. He could almost hear her voice:
“Why didn’t you take me?”
By the time Theo arrived, the manor was quiet–too quiet.
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His urgent knocking woke Lord Alaric and Lady Zara, who blinked sleepily at their Beta’s grim expression
Something was wrong.
“Kael.” Theo said quickly. “Where is he?”
They searched every hallway, every guest room, every chamber. Nothing.
Theo’s phone rang. He picked it up–and a shrill ringtone echoed faintly through the walls.
They followed the sound to the storage wing.
The door was ajar.
Theo stepped in first.
The scent hit him like a wall.
Blood.
Heavy. Metallic. Drenched in guilt.
His boots crunched slightly on the stone floor as he stepped inside. His heart plummeted.
There Kael lay, collapsed beside a dark pool of blood, his face pallid, his lips stained crimson. His hand was clenched tightly around a photograph, crumpled and wet with blood and tears.
Theo dropped to his knees beside him. “Kael?! Kael, wake up!”
Kael didn’t respond.
Theo tried to heal Kael, but Kael’s wolf had completely shut itself off, leaving Kael unable to establish any connection with him.
Behind him, Alaric and Zara froze in the doorway.
For one brief moment, all the carefully maintained illusion of noble dignity shattered.
Zara gasped, stumbling back, a trembling hand covering her mouth.
Alaric’s face twisted into something between horror and fury.
Their son–the one they’d raised to be the pride of the Vale name–was lying broken on the ground, all because of the daughter they’d tried to erase.
“Go get the Awakening Healer!” Theo barked. “NOW!”
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