Chapter 26: The Heir of D’Argente
The Baye estate stood at the edge of the Capital’s noble quarter, a sweeping manor of pale stone and black iron gates, its façade washed gold in the late spring dusk. Ivy curled along the walls like it had grown just to listen in on secrets. The gardens were geometric, pristine, and cruelly beautiful, with Serathine’s influence visible in every detail.
Inside, the ballroom was filled with the quiet menace of power in tailored clothing.
The estate’s grand foyer had been transformed into a palace of modern grandeur.
Soft golden light spilled from recessed fixtures in the marble ceiling, diffused by etched glass panels that scattered it like stardust across polished floors. Live strings hummed in the background, not old-world, but sharp and cinematic, built to echo in a room like this. Servers moved through the gathering with precise timing, offering sparkling drinks and hors d’oeuvres on silver trays that gleamed under the lights.
Conversation had quieted.
At the top of the stairs, Lucas exhaled.
The double doors opened.
The marble beneath his feet was cool and steady—nothing like the wild pulse under his skin.
Lucas stepped into the light with Serathine at his arm.
Gasps were immediate, but not loud. Polished, polite, barely-there sounds behind flutes of champagne and curated expressions. The elite knew better than to gawk.
But they did stare.
Lucas descended the staircase with measured poise, each step deliberate. He wore ivory, which had evolved to withstand the camera flash and cutting tongue. Silver-thread detailing caught the light in discreet intervals, echoing the House D’Argente crest pinned at his lapel.