Cold dread settled deep in Elara’s gut. Cassian Thorne’s words, heavy with implied threat and unsettling knowledge, still hung in the air of the drawing-room. Her family’s legacy, bought and sold like a common commodity. It was a bitter pill, one that stuck in her throat. Cassian remained still, his obsidian gaze unwavering. He expected an answer. He expected her surrender. “My family founded this archive,” Elara stated, her voice tighter than she liked. She gripped the worn armrest of her chair, knuckles white. Thorne merely inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment, not agreement. “The terms are clear,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Full acquisition. Immediate access.” Elara pushed back, a desperate tremor running through her. “I need time. To prove my family didn’t commit fraud. To understand what this parchment means.” A muscle twitched in Cassian’s jaw. His eyes, dark as polished jet, studied her intently. He seemed to weigh her words, not for their merit, but for her resolve. “Your time is a luxury you don’t possess,” he countered smoothly. “The bank’s deadline looms. My offer expires with it.” He had her cornered. She knew it. The chilling certainty of his advantage was absolute. Still, she tried. “I will not be shut out. This is my home. My heritage.” Cassian’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. It held no warmth, only a predatory satisfaction. “You won’t be shut out entirely. You will retain residence here, for now. And you will have supervised access to the archive, under my terms.” Supervised access. It felt like a concession, but it was still a cage. A gilded cage, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless. “And the parchment?” Elara pressed. “The untranslatable text. It stays here. With me.” His gaze sharpened. “The parchment is part of the collection. It comes with the deal.” “No,” Elara insisted, a spark of defiance igniting. “That was my discovery. My father’s last secret. It’s not part of the documented Vance collection.” Cassian leaned forward slightly, his posture radiating an understated power. “Everything within these walls, from this moment forward, is part of my acquisition. Including any undocumented items found on the premises.” He left no room for argument. The parchment, the one glimmer of hope she'd found, would be swallowed by his obsessive reach.

Chapter 3: A Deal With the Devil