The grand drawing room of the White Manor was dimly lit, heavy curtains drawn against the darkness of the night outside. The flicker of chandelier cast long shadows along the ornate walls, its soft glow reflecting off the polished wood and antique glass.
Eira sat quietly in an armchair in front of the oak wood desk, the letter from Alina Trévér folded neatly on the small table beside her. Her eyes were thoughtful, tracing the flickering lights as though searching for answers within them.
Across from her, Isabella Voclain—her aunt leaned forward, her expression hard but concerned. Emma stood just behind Isabella, arms crossed, alert as always.
After a long pause, Eira broke the silence. "I think it's time I told you everything that happened."
Isabella nodded once. "We're listening."
Eira took a deep breath, steadying herself. "After I said goodbye to Fleur at the city center of Paris , I walked toward the nearest Floo Network location that's disguised as a muggle store. Inside, in the corner, there's a Floo Network hearth, and I intended to use it to teleport directly to the White Manor."
Emma nodded sharply. "Yes, we investigated it ."
"Well," Eira continued, "that was the last place I used before disappearing. But something was wrong with the Floo Network. It was… tampered with."
She looked up, meeting her aunt's eyes. "How could they have known that I would use that particular shop? It was too convenient — like they were waiting for me, or knew my plans."
Isabella's jaw tightened. "We took the shop owner into custody immediately. We interrogated him thoroughly. But… his memories were partially erased. Someone cut off his recollections of the day you disappeared."
Emma stepped forward, her voice low but firm. "We believe those who took you had been following you. When you tried to use the Floo Network, they tampered with it so that instead of your intended destination, you were sent directly to their lair."
Eira clenched her hands. "It was no accident. I fought them — the leader especially. He was powerful, but not powerful enough."
She reached for the folded letter on the table and held it out to them. "I found this on his desk."
Isabella took it carefully, unfolding the note and reading the cursive handwriting aloud in a harsh whisper:
{Did you see my little prank? How was it?
I thought it would be fun to see what you'd do—whether you'd run, or wriggle free, or have some gallant rescuer sweep you away.
Since you're reading this, I suppose you managed something. Credit where it's due, my dear.
But tell me… did you enjoy yourself? I know I did, Remember, I promised I would never let you go. You will become mine—this is only the beginning. I will torment you endlessly until you come to me willingly, from your own heart.}
Beneath the words, there was a lipstick kiss in deep, vivid red. Under it, the signature: 💋
Alina Trévér
Isabella's eyes flicked down to the crimson lipstick kiss mark stamped at the bottom of the page, unmistakably Alina Trévér's doing. Her hands trembled slightly before she slammed the letter onto the table.
"That woman," Isabella growled, "she must be finished. We must kill her."
Eira nodded solemnly. "I agree. She's completely insane — orchestrating a kidnapping just for some twisted 'prank.'"
Emma took a breath, stepping forward. "I'll start investigating her networks, find a way to strike back. We can't let her get away with this."
Isabella glanced sharply at Emma. "Are you planning to go to war with her?"
Emma faltered briefly. "I… I want to find the most efficient way to end this."
Isabella shook her head. "I advise caution. The Voclain and Trévér families have been warring for months now. Just yesterday, there were attacks on several of our stores and properties. The world is watching, but no one intervenes. I warned them not to involve outsiders."
Eira's eyes darkened as she spoke. "It's good the world isn't interfering. If other families get involved, this will escalate to a full-scale civil war. That's the last thing we want."
Isabella's voice lowered, sharp with warning. "But if you intervene too openly, it will worsen. The balance is fragile."
Eira shook her head firmly. "I won't officially start a war. My fight is simple — to kill Alina. Nothing more. Nothing less."
Isabella stared at her, as if seeing a dangerous fire burn behind her calm face.
"She's the backbone of the Trévér family. The moment she's gone, their power crumbles. She's obsessed with me — obsessed with destroying me. I have to stop her before it's too late."
Emma's gaze softened slightly, but her voice was resolute. "I'll gather intel and resources immediately. We'll find her weakness."
Eira unfolded the letter again and held it out so both women could see the mocking words, the playful cruelty beneath the ink.
Isabella traced the lipstick mark with a trembling finger. "She underestimates you — underestimates us all."
Eira smiled, a cold, determined smile. "She's going to regret that."
The three women sat in tense silence, each lost in their thoughts as the flickering light painted shadows on the walls .