"Elder Miranda," I said casually, catching her just as she stepped out of the bathroom. She looked pale—paler than usual. Like she'd just coughed up her heart and tried to swallow it again. I guess she'd finally heard the news. Her son was exiled. Her family name was slipping down the side of a cliff, and she was being forced to bow to me. Honestly, I expected more dramatics. Screaming. Collapsing. Something other than this ghostly silence.
"I heard the verdict of what happened," I said, slowly walking toward her.
"You..." she started, but her voice cut out before the sentence could form.
I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. I had no hard evidence, nothing I could wave around in court—but I knew the truth. The real mastermind wasn't Jake. It was her. Always her. The venom she spat at me all these years wasn't just about pride—it was about control. And she hated that she'd lost it.
