Chapter 43 A House That Isn’t Home

Chapter 43 A House That Isn’t Home
Jasmine:

The gates opened too slowly. Iron dragging over stone echoed through the air, heavy and almost threatening, so much so that it felt like the house was warning me to turn around and go back.

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Dante drove us through without a word as the tires crunched softly against the gravel path. My eyes stayed fixed ahead, locked on the mansion that came into view.

The Vorn estate, cold and unchanged. A chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t been here in years, but nothing about it felt unfamiliar. The towering structure still stood like a monument to power and control, with its dark windows and suffocating walls. This place had never been a home. It had always been a cage.

The car came to a stop at the front entrance. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then Dante spoke.

“You ready?”

No. But that didn’t matter.

“I don’t have a choice.”

That was the truth. The only truth.

I stepped out of the car. The air here felt different, heavier, in a way. Like it carried secrets, things I didn’t know about.

The large doors opened before I even reached them. Of course they did because nothing in this house happened without someone watching.

I stepped inside, and just like that, Elena Vorn was back.

The interior was just as I remembered, grand, pristine, and completely devoid of warmth. The same old marble floors stretched endlessly beneath my feet, the same expensive chandeliers casting soft golden light that did nothing to make the space feel alive.

Servants moved quietly in the background with their heads lowered. No one greeted me. No one welcomed me.

Good. I didn’t want them to.

“Miss Elena.”

I turned slightly at the voice. One of the house staff stood a few feet away, her posture rigid.

“It’s been a long time.”

I nodded once.

“Where is my father?”

The question came out sharper than I intended. The woman hesitated, just for a second. But I caught it.

“He’s… unavailable at the moment.”

My eyes narrowed slightly.

“Unavailable?”

“He’s resting,” she corrected quickly. “Your journey must have been exhausting. Perhaps you should—”

“Where is he?”

This time, there was no softness in my tone, no patience.

Then she swallowed. “I’m sure he’ll see you soon.”

That wasn’t an answer and we both knew it. Something that felt wrong twisted in my chest. 

“Elena, just let it go.” Dante spoke over my shoulders.

“Everything just feels wrong.” I said, under my breath.

“May I show you to your room, Miss?” The lady eventually asked. I gestured in agreement and she showed me to my old room.

Nothing had changed. The bed was still perfectly made and untouched. The furniture stood exactly where I remembered, polished to perfection. Even the curtains were the same deep shade, blocking out most of the light.

It was like I had never left. Like the years I spent building a different life meant nothing.

I set my bag down slowly. Then my reflection caught my eye in the mirror across the room. I barely recognised myself. I truly wasn’t Jasmine anymore.

I turned away. I couldn’t look at her.

Later on, hours had passed, or maybe it was minutes. But time felt strange here. Slow. I left the room eventually, unable to sit still any longer. I was searching, searching for him. But everywhere I went, I got the same thing.

Deflection, avoidance, and lies.

“He’s in a meeting.”

“He’s resting.”

“He’s unavailable.”

Each response felt rehearsed, polished and empty. My patience wore thinner with every step. Something was wrong, not just slightly off. Completely wrong. And no one was telling me the truth.

I found him eventually. Or rather, he found me. Pietro Vorn, my stepbrother, leaning casually against the doorway of one of the sitting rooms, like he had been waiting for this exact moment.

A slow smile spread across his face when our eyes met.

“Elena the American.”

My stomach tightened.

“Pietro.”

He pushed himself off the wall and walked toward me, his movements unhurried, confident… too confident.

“You’re finally home,” he said.

“I didn’t come for you.”

His smile didn’t falter.

“Of course not.”

I crossed my arms slightly.

“Where is Father?”

There it was again, that flicker. It was brief and almost invisible. But I saw it.

Pietro tilted his head slightly. “Still the same, I see. Straight to business.”

“Answer the question.”

He exhaled lightly, like I was being unreasonable.

“He’s… not here right now.”

My pulse quickened. “Not here?”

“Traveling,” he said smoothly. “Unexpected matters.”

“And he didn’t inform anyone… even you or your mother?”

“You’ve been gone for a long time, Elena.”

The way he said it, like it meant more than just distance.

“A lot of things have changed.” He continued, sinisterly. 

I studied him carefully. Every word, every expression. Looking for cracks because something wasn’t adding up. Not even close.

“Elena,” a familiar voice called out from behind with sacarstic joy.

Valentina. My stepmother.

She entered the room like she owned it, which, in many ways, she always had.

“We never thought you’d be back. It’s been eons,” she expressed, her voice smooth as silk.

“Valentina.”

She stepped closer, scanning me like she was assessing something.

“You look well.”

“I’m not here for pleasantries.”

A faint smile touched her lips.

“Still so cold.”

I ignored that.

“Where is Lucien?”

She went silent, just for a moment. But it was enough. Then, Valentina and Pietro exchanged a quick subtle look. But it was there.

And that, that was when it hit me hard and clear. My breath slowed, and my mind sharpened as every piece began falling into place.

The missing answers. The rehearsed responses. The way no one would give me anything real. The way Pietro stood like he already knew everything. The way Valentina looked at me, like a threat.

I took a slow step back.

“You’re lying. You’re all lying.”

Neither of them spoke, nor denied it. They just watched me, and that was all I needed.

My heart started pounding, louder and faster. Because I finally understood that this wasn’t coincidence, and neither was it confusion.

This was a planned, careful and deliberate trap, and I had walked straight into it.

“What did you do?” My voice dropped.

Pietro’s smile returned slowly, and Valentina’s expression didn’t change. But her eyes, her eyes told me everything.

My father, was nowhere to be found. And Dante didn’t just bring me back to Italy because of Nikolai knew my secret. He brought me back because of the two devils standing in front of me.