"Duke Tramplin!",Vined spat the words as he burned the letter in his hand. Flames licked the edges, ash tumbling into his palm; he squeezed so hard the skin split and blood spurted out of his hand.
"He dared. He dared, he dared," Vined muttered, voice sharp with a rage that engulfed the room.
Around him the Zenithara executives stood frozen, their faces hard knives of anger and disbelief as they watched the last of the script vanished into smoke.
"I will kill him this instant." The words cut the air like a command; Vined's fist tightened as if to prove it.
Before he could storm forth and cloak his fury with action, an old man rose from the circle of onlookers. His voice was steady, bone-deep with years. "Vined, calm down."
The old man was the father of Vined and the previous patriarch of the zenithara house, Vikel D. Zenithara.
"But father, how could I possibly be calm?" Vined's voice tore through the room, raw and rageful.
"He dared to target the heir of the Zenithara house. Even the royal family would think twice before committing such an act." He spat the words like poison, fury bright in his eyes.
Vikel didn't respond. He simply stared at his son, his weathered eyes fixed on the boy who was drowning in his own rage.
"Father… you are well aware of how painful those episodes are for Vivian," Vined said at last, his voice cracking under the weight of memory.
The fury in his gaze flickered, giving way to a sorrow too deep to contain. "Each time… he coughs blood, and when the seizures strike, he's left confined to his room for an entire day, helpless and I as a father am so incompetent that even after ten years I am unable to find a cure."
"And now that I know who is behind this, I will make him pay with his very life," Vined declared, each word hammered out like a judgement.
Vikel sighed, palm pressed to his temple as if he could knead the inferno from his skull. "Do you think I am not enraged by my grandson's suffering?" he asked, voice low and measured.
"If I could, I would have had every one of their bloodlines butchered before your eyes." He spat the last words as if the taste of them was poison.
Then, softer, brittle with helplessness, he added, "But I cannot. Can I?"
The room fell into a heavy, expectant silence after Vikel's declaration.
Everyone's breath seemed to pause, even the higher-ups of the family kept their silence.
Vined continued to stare at his father, waiting for the verdict he already wanted.
After a long pause, Vikel spoke again, voice cool and exact. "If we move against them without proof," he said, "the royal family will step in, and then everything becomes ten times harder for us."
He folded his hands, the wrinkles at his temples deepening with thought. "An accusation without evidence hands our enemies the very leverage they seek. It gives the others a reason to meddle, and it hands the story to every rival who waits for our ruin."
"But father, what should we do then?" Vined's voice cracked, desperation mixed with fury.
"If we can't declare war without proof, then what? What about Vivian, what if the curse, what if he suffers more while we hesitate?"
Vikel's face hardened only for a moment before sliding back into the cool, practiced calm of a man who had weathered every assault on his house.
He leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Vined, my son," he said, each syllable measured, "there are many ways to kill a man beyond the edge of a blade."
"Create chaos in their territory," Vined thundered, voice like rolling storm. "Block every trade route. Turn their allies against them. We will strike the moment any flaw is exposed."
He paced once, the room shrinking to the circumference of his fury. "You will manage that," he said, eyes hard as flint, pointing a finger that felt like a command. "I will speak with Duke Sant. And whatever you do, leave no evidence that ties this house to the deed."
Vined stared at his father for a while and eventually he nodded,"Yes, father," as he regained his composure after hearing his father's suggestion.
"By the way father, have you, did you manage to find any way to cure Vivian's illness?" His eyes were hopeful as he asked that question.
"No, I haven't found a cure," Vikel said, each word deliberate, the weight of failure and hope coiled beneath them.
He straightened, and something in his posture sharpened into resolve. "But mark my words: I will find one. I will find a way to save my grandson."
"Yes, Father," Vined said with a nod, though a faint disappointment lingered in his eyes.
Once his rage had cooled and his voice steadied, the conference resumed.
Discussions rose and fell, heated arguments clashing against cold agreements, voices sharp as steel and others tempered with caution.
Hours slipped by beneath the weight of strategy, until at last a single course was forged from their discord.
After the conference concluded, Vined returned to the main estate alongside his father.
The long halls carried the echo of their footsteps, heavy with the weight of the plans just forged.
But as they approached the living quarters, their paths diverged as Edward dragged his grandfather who had returned after so many days with him.
"Honey, you look distressed, what happened?" Elena asked, handing him a glass of water, her brows drawn together with worry.
"Nothing… it was just an argument with Father," Vined muttered, taking the glass. He forced a small smile, though inside he knew it was a hollow excuse.
If Elena ever learned their suspicions were true, her temper would ignite into open war before he could stop her.
"Hmm?" Elena tilted her head, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "Are you hiding something from me?"
Vined froze, his lips pressing into a thin line. Rather than answer, he let the silence slip past and quickly shifted the subject. "Vivian must have reached the academy by now, right?"
At the mention of her son, Elena's expression softened at once. The shadow of doubt vanished as a smile blossomed across her face. "Yes, he must have reached by now." She paused, her voice turning gentler, tinged with motherly concern. "By the way, honey… do you think he can make friends at the academy?"
"Well… of course he'll make friends," Vined replied, forcing a chuckle that came out more awkward than he intended. "Who knows, he might even win the hearts of a few young ladies at the academy, haha…"
"You're not entirely wrong," Elena said with a soft chuckle, her eyes shining. "After all, my son is the most handsome person in the world." Her voice brimmed with motherly pride, a love that seemed boundless.
"Well, he isn't more handsome than me," Vined teased, a sly grin tugging at his lips as he glanced at his wife, relieved that she had completely forgotten their earlier conversation.
"Hmph." Elena crossed her arms, feigning indignation, though her smile betrayed her amusement. "No, my son is far more handsome than you will ever be."
They began bickering playfully, their voices rising and falling in mock rivalry.
To an outsider, it might have seemed like nothing more than a husband and wife teasing one another.
But in his mind, Vined let out a long, weary sigh of relief.
'If she were to know who the true perpetrator was,' he thought grimly, 'she would have immediately run to Duke Sant and pressed for war. And unlike me… no one alive would have been able to convince her otherwise.'
His smile lingered on his lips, but behind it, the storm of his thoughts raged quietly, hidden even from the woman he loved most.