Alaric sat in his study, fingers tapping idly against the desk as he watched Richmond and Carl celebrate their so-called victory. They thought they had won—thought he had agreed to help them because he believed them.
How laughable.
Alaric had no illusions that they actually possessed anything of their mother's. If they had, they would have flaunted it more confidently. No, this was just another desperate attempt to regain the status they had lost.
But he would play along.
They wanted him to help them reclaim their noble title? Fine. He would do it.
But he wouldn't give it to them.
He would buy it back, hold it just within their reach—so close, yet so far—and watch them suffer.
Let them feel true powerlessness.
Carl smirked. "We knew you'd make the right choice, Alaric."
Alaric only tilted his head, amusement flickering in his cold gaze. "Of course. I always make the right choice."
Carl's smirk faltered just slightly, but he recovered quickly.
