Chapter 16 Shattered Voices
\------
“Do you have any idea how cruel you sounded back there?”
Aston’s voice cracked through the hall like a whip, restrained fury laced with disbelief.
Deborah froze halfway up the grand staircase of the Valmere estate, her hand still resting on the railing. She turned, composed yet distant, like marble carved into a woman. “Cruel?” she repeated, the word rolling off her tongue like ice. “I’d call it honesty.”
Aston’s shoes hit the marble with deliberate weight as he approached, his tie slightly loosened, the perfect heir undone. “You humiliated her, Deborah. In front of everyone.”
“She humiliated herself by pretending she belongs here.”
The words landed like gunfire.
His jaw clenched. “You don’t even know her.”
“I know enough,” Deborah replied, her tone clipped but calm. “Enough to see through whatever mask she’s wearing. She's very obvious, Aston.”
“That’s not seeing through people,” Aston hissed. “That’s paranoia.”
Her eyes flashed. “That’s instinct. And you should trust it before it’s too late.You know my instinct never failed."
He gave a bitter laugh, sharp, humorless. “You think this family’s instincts are flawless? You think your ‘gut’ gives you the right to destroy anyone who doesn’t fit your definition of safe?”
“I’m trying to protect you. To protect the Industry.”
“I don’t need your protection!” His voice rose, reverberating against the crystal chandelier. “I need my sister to stop treating me like a liability.”
She stepped down one stair, her gaze unwavering. “You’re my brother. And right now, you’re acting like a fool in love.”
He took a step forward, closing the distance, his breath ragged. “You call it foolish. I call it human. I just finally found someone who sees me, appreciate me, love me.... and not the Valmere empire, not the legacy, me. And you can’t stand it.”
Deborah’s composure faltered for a heartbeat, a single blink too long. “I can’t stand watching you walk straight into someone’s trap.”
The air crackled between them. Every word was a match. Every breath, smoke.
Aston’s voice dropped lower, shaking. “You can’t even admit it, can you? You don’t hate Selene because you think she’s dangerous. You hate her because you are jealous of her.”
Her pulse jumped, but she didn’t move.
“You see something in her,” he continued, his tone half accusation, half revelation. “Something that scares you.”
Deborah’s lips curved slightly, though her eyes hardened. “You’re right.”
He blinked.
“I see ambition. Wrapped in silk and smiles.” Her voice was steady, cutting, precise. “And that kind of ambition only ends one way, with blood on the floor and someone claiming it was love.”
Aston’s restraint broke. “Stop twisting everything into nightmares!”
“Then stop ignoring them! Stip ignoring me!”
He slammed his hand against the railing beside her, the sound echoing like a gunshot. The chandelier trembled faintly, dust falling like glitter between them.
“You don’t talk to me like that,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Then stop acting like a stranger,” she whispered.
The silence after was suffocating. The tension thick enough to choke on.
And then, he raised his hand and was about to hit her.
“Don’t you ever lay a finger on deborah.”
The word came sharp, commanding.
Lysander stood at the end of the hall, calm but dangerous. Caelum beside him, eyes colder than steel.
Aston froze, his arm still raised mid-motion, not to strike, but the gesture was enough.
Caelum’s voice was low, deliberate. “Put your hand down.”
Aston’s chest heaved. He lowered his arm instantly, guilt flashing across his face.
Lysander stepped forward, his tone flat but lethal. “You don’t raise your hand in this house. Ever. You don't raise your hand at deborah.”
“I wasn’t going to—”
Caelum cut him off. “You thought about it.”
The words landed like a verdict.
Deborah stood motionless, every muscle tight. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but her expression stayed glass-smooth.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she murmured finally.
Lysander’s eyes darted between them both. “Then stop letting your emotions play games with this family. Because someone out there already is.”
The silence that followed was raw and cold.
Aston ran a trembling hand through his hair, his anger fading into exhaustion. “You’ll regret not trusting her, Deb.”
She met his gaze, voice steady but soft. “And you’ll regret trusting her too much.”
He turned and walked away without another word. The echo of his footsteps trailed off into the long corridors, distant, final.
Caelum exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “He’s not thinking clearly.”
“No,” Deborah whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s thinking with his heart.”
“And that,” Lysander muttered, “is exactly how people like her win.”
Caelum and Lysander exchanged a heavy glance. Deborah turned toward the tall windows, the afternoon light filtering through the rain-streaked glass. Outside, the gardens shimmered under the gray sky, tranquil, deceptive.
Then she froze. A reflection flickered in the glass. Not theirs.
A figure, feminine, poised, standing just beyond the estate gates. Watching.
And when Deborah blinked, the reflection was gone.
Her pulse spiked. “Caelum,” she said quietly. “Someone’s outside. A woman.”
He moved toward the window, scanning the grounds. Nothing. Just rain and mist.
“Probably press,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction. “They’ve been circling since the auction.”
But Deborah knew what she saw. And deep down, she felt it, that cold, crawling instinct she’d spent her whole life trusting. "They are not press.... She is just alone."
“Whoever she is,” Lysander said quietly, looking past the glass, “she's just putting her life in danger.”