Chapter 177: Chapter 177

Kai’s POV

The moment Serena stepped inside, the air shifted.

It was like a cold, unwanted draft had seeped into the war room. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but I knew better than to mistake that calm for innocence.

I didn’t bother hiding the edge in my voice.

“You’re not welcome here.”

Serena stopped halfway to the table and tilted her head, that infuriating smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “That’s not very diplomatic of you, Kai.”

“Leave.”

But she didn’t.

“I came to ask a simple question,” she said. “Will the orphanage home still be renovated? Or has Mira’s plan died with her departure?”

That caught me off guard for a second.

Of all the things I expected her to bring up—schemes, leverage, veiled insults—that wasn’t one of them.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why do you care?”

“I’m the one who built it,” she said, her tone gentle now. Almost sincere. “It was my vision before Mira ever stepped foot in Blackwood. I care about those children… the ones still alive, at least.”

Rowan scoffed loudly behind me. “You care? Since when?”

Serena turned toward him, unfazed. “Believe what you want. I’m only asking that it not be abandoned.”

I crossed my arms. “Cut to the chase, Serena. What do you really want?”

She paused—then let the mask slip just a little.

“I want back what’s mine,” she said. “The orphanage. And my other businesses. I want ownership returned to me.”

Rowan laughed, short and sharp. “You want power again.”

“I want responsibility,” she corrected. “I committed a crime. I’ve paid the price. I’ve been humiliated, stripped of status, cast aside. I’m not asking to be queen again—I know that door is shut. But the orphanage? That’s different.”

“And the other businesses?”

“They’re my livelihood. And my connection to the clan. I’m asking for a legal agreement—one that gives you the right to revoke them again if I act out of line. But give me a chance to prove myself. That’s all.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “You sound like a merchant on trial.”

“Because that’s what this is,” she said. “A negotiation.”

I studied her.

Every instinct screamed that it was a mistake. That Serena never moved without a hidden blade. But there was truth buried in what she said. She had paid a price. Her position as queen was gone. She’d been shamed in front of the entire court. And… she was right. The orphanage needed oversight. Someone with initiative.

Mira was gone.

And there was no one else in place.

I didn’t trust Serena—but I trusted structure. Limits. Conditions.

So I spoke.

“You’ll get the orphanage,” I said. “Only that. The rest stays under lockdown.”

Her eyes lit up, but I raised a hand before she could say more.

“You’ll make it better within a fortnight. I want reports. Renovations. An entirely new model. If I hear anything—anything even close to your past behavior—I will take it from you. Permanently. And I’ll make sure you never step near another public venture again.”

“I accept,” she said immediately.

“No delays. No excuses.”

“You have my word.”

I stepped back. “Then we’re done.”

She offered a small curtsy—not out of respect, but mockery—and turned to leave.

After the door shut behind her, Rowan gave me a side-eye glare. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

He raised a brow. “You trust her?”

“No. But I trust the contract. And the threat.”

“She’ll twist it.”

“Maybe. But if she does, we’ll be ready.”

He didn’t look convinced.

I didn’t blame him.

But we had bigger threats now. And Serena, as much of a serpent as she could be, was not the worst problem we faced.

I turned back to the map. “Let’s focus on Darkfire. She’s just noise.”

Serena’s POV

The moment the war room door closed behind me, I smiled.

Just a little.

Kai had given me the orphanage. A small prize, sure. But it was mine again. And from small prizes, I’d always built palaces.

He thought giving it back to me under threat would be enough to contain me.

How sweet.

The truth was, I didn’t want to rule anymore.

Not yet.

People who climb too fast tend to fall harder. But if I could show the people of Blackwood that I’d changed—that I cared—they’d open their arms again.

Give them food. Shelter. Cry a little at a public gathering. Offer a scholarship or two.

They’d forgive anything.

Mira had left.

That was my advantage.

The clan hated her now, whispered against her in corners, saw her as the queen who failed the children. But me?

I was just the villain who got caught too soon.

I could turn that around.

By the time I returned to my chamber, I already had the blueprint forming in my mind.

Clean up the orphanage. Throw some gold into supplies. Host a community feast. Frame it like redemption. People loved redemption stories.

The scent of jasmine incense wafted faintly in my rooms. I didn’t remember lighting any.

I approached the bed, undoing the buttons of my cloak, when I spotted something strange.

Two scrolls.

Unsealed.

Resting perfectly on the center of my bed.

I froze.

My hands twitched as I reached for them.

No crest. No ribbon. No wax.

Just two pieces of parchment tied together with twine—parchment I recognized.

My heart skipped once.

Then twice.

Mira’s name was written at the top of the first page.

I unrolled it, scanning the words quickly.

It was from her father.

Harsh. Direct. Full of veiled threats and orders. Another letter followed, similar in tone. Demanding that she report back. That she fulfilled her mission. That if she didn’t, he would.

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

The kind of laughter that came from victory was already predicted.

I didn’t need to ask how it got here.

Jael. That loyal little shadow. She must have intercepted the letters. Left them for me like a gift.

And what a gift it was.

Proof.

Words from Mira’s own father—words that would paint her as a traitor to the clan.

She hadn’t told them about her past. About what she was sent here to do. But I would. And when the time was right, I’d let these letters do their work.

The mighty Queen Mira, the half-blood witch sent to destroy us.

Once the truth spread…

The people wouldn’t want her back.

The brothers would turn.

And I?

I’d be their last trusted voice.

Smiling, I slipped the scrolls into the secret drawer in my armoire.

Then I began drafting my next move.