Her head turned sharply toward the door where her brother stood.

Of course. The script rewrote itself, she thought.

In a quick switch, her smile bloomed instantly, all brightness and girlish warmth, as though she hadn’t just been straddling Count Jydin with transparent poison dripping from her nails.

“Oh, brother,” she said sweetly, voice lilting with surprise that wasn’t surprising at all. “I never expected to see you here.”

She tilted her head, giggling as her earrings swayed. Anyone watching would think she adored him.

But Matteo’s jaw clenched at every word, at every saccharine note in her tone. The more she played the doting sister, the darker his eyes grew.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he strode past, boots thudding against the carpet until he loomed over the velvet chair where Count Jydin slumped, pupils sluggish and unfocused.

Matteo’s gaze flicked from the dazed Count back to her. His voice sliced clean through the air.

“So, the money I waste on you isn’t enough? Now you’ve resorted to drugging counts just to bleed more coins from them?”

“His pocket is so fat I couldn’t help myself.” She leaned in, swirling Count Jydin’s short hair. “Shouldn’t you be proud of me? I’m perfectly embracing the image you forced on me.”

Matteo grabbed her hand away from the Count’s hair.

“What did you put in his drink? He looks half dead.”

Alissia exhaled tiredly. “He’s just wasted, Matteo. He slumped before I could get him to write me a check.”

His grip tightened, thumb digging into her wrist hard enough to leave a mark.

“You crazy bitch! Count Jydin is one of my best business partners! What happens when he wakes up and remembers my clumsy little sister tried to steal from him?!”

Alissia just stared blankly.

Not after that much moonveil poison. It’s rather satisfying to witness your oblivion, she thought.

“Answer me!” Matteo roared.

“He won’t remember a thing. Trust me.”

The Count gave a weak groan, his head rolling against the chair. Matteo’s eyes narrowed at the sound, then shifted back to her with a predator’s patience.

“Arrgh! You disgust me!” He struck her hard across the face.

The slap sent Alissia crashing into a huge vase of flowers. Her pale cheek stung red, but she forced her expression calm, refusing to shed a tear.

Matteo walked over to where she sat, leaning in slowly. “Get your pathetic self out of my sight.”

Alissia grinned like a Cheshire cat as she rose gracefully to her feet.

Matteo, narrowing his eyes, thought: She really has gone nuts.

“I’ll see you at home, brother. Please drive safely.” She walked out of the VVIP room without another word.

At the door, Matteo called out sharply to Count Jydin’s guards, standing outside.

“You two, come here!”

They hesitated but stepped inside.

He gestured at the slumped Count.

“Take your wasted master back to his house.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” they bowed quickly.

As the guards carried Jydin out, one of Matteo’s messengers entered, bowing low.

“Your letter with the imperial council has reached Archduchess Obregón, Your Grace.”

Matteo sank into the velvet cushion, irritation sharp in his tone.

“Hmm… that was fast. But you shouldn’t have come all the way here to tell me that.”

“My apologies, Your Grace. I only followed your order. You asked me to report the moment she received the letter.”

He folded his arms, frowning.

“Yes, I did. But that doesn’t include barging into private clubs.”

“It was my mistake. Forgive me.”

Matteo’s attention drifted as he thought darkly.

It’s too obvious the Archduchess is marrying Sylrick Kartegen just to preserve her title. The girl who went quiet after her parents’ deaths suddenly plays the dutiful archduchess. If my suspicions about the Emperor are true, I will not hesitate to eliminate her.

He turned back to the messenger.

“Since you’re here, follow my sister. I want to know where she goes. Make sure she’s heading straight home.”

“As you command, Your Grace.” The messenger bowed and left.

Alone again, Matteo’s eyes lingered on a painted portrait of a half-naked dancing gypsy, hanging opposite him.

“Am I overestimating Alissia by sending someone to spy on her?” He replayed her laughter, her harmless act.

“Nah. She’s too stupid. Too obedient. Not capable of anything serious.”

He exhaled, rose from his seat, and stepped outside the room. His gaze caught on one of the club’s dancers.

“Hey, regular! Over here!” Matteo called out, pointing at her.

The dancer swayed boldly over, hips rolling with each step. “How can I serve you tonight, Your Grace?”

Matteo grinned, his fingers trailing down the curve of her nearly bare chest before he leaned in, pressing light kisses against her neck.

“Take me to our favorite spot,” he muttered, voice low with need.

The dancer giggled, slipping her arm around him. “My time tonight is yours. Let’s go.”

***

Alissia swept toward the Diamond Griffin’s grand entrance, her heels clicking sharp against the polished marble. The night air slipped in as the doors parted, cool against her flushed cheeks.

She tugged her shawl tighter across her shoulders, her usual smirk curling into something edged with annoyance.

“How long am I supposed to put up with this?” she muttered under her breath.

The scent hit her again. She lifted the shawl and sniffed.

“Ugh.” Her nose wrinkled.

I can’t wait to wash off that pervy Count’s stench of liquor, she thought.

Still, her stride didn’t slow. This will be the first and last time I ever have anything to do with Count Jydin. At least I managed to drag something useful out of him about Matteo… That, I can work with.

“Lady Alissia.”

The voice floated from behind her, playful, but sharpened with mockery.

Her steps faltered. Slowly, she turned.

And there he was. Aleho. Standing just beyond the reach of the chandeliers, half his face carved in shadow, crimson eyes locking onto her with a clarity that unsettled even her.

Her guards tensed immediately. Even Matteo’s messenger, lurking farther back, stiffened like he hadn’t expected this encounter either.

Alissia’s smile spread, lazy, almost taunting, though her pulse had already kicked faster.

“Well,” she breathed, tilting her head as her earrings swayed, “isn’t this a surprise.”

But beneath the mask, her thoughts churned:

What in the gods’ names is Aleho Geerich doing here?