"Let's talk about business," Seraphina said.
She didn't sit.
She stood at the head of the table—the only woman in the room—draped in wine-dark velvet, a cat curled across her shoulder like fur.
The nobles looked uncomfortable.
As they should.
Lucien stood to her right, composed and deadly, calm as a loaded pistol.
Rhys leaned against the door, arms crossed, smirking like he was waiting for someone to try something stupid.
And among the confused and shifting aristocrats sat one man who did not belong there—
or rather, didn't care if he did.
Lord Casimir, the young noble who had once lost a game of cards—and most of his dignity—lounged at the far end of the table, twirling his wine glass with practiced ease.
He looked like he was enjoying himself.
He probably was.
---
"There was an assassination attempt," Seraphina said flatly.
A few nobles shifted in their seats.
Then she snorted.
> "Pffftt. If you consider that sorry excuse of a charred tantrum an assassination."
There was a gleam of amusement in her eye, and her tone dripped condescension.
> "It's not like it's the first time someone tried to kill me.
They all met their deserved fates."
The room held its breath.
"But the interesting thing is... my adorable little puppy, who just got back from dealing with those annoying little pests, tells me you lot might've had your hands in that mess."
Sweat poured like confession. Even breathing started to sound difficult.
Seraphina took a step forward.
"You were the ones who came crawling to me.
Begging for easy money.
I gave you opportunity.
And you betrayed me."
Her smile was razor-thin.
"So don't think for one second that you're getting an easy death."
---
What followed wasn't a meeting.
It was a purge.
Arrogant nobles were stripped—of title, estate, influence, everything.
Their fortunes burned .
Only once did someone try to protest.
And only once did Rhys smile like a predator who'd been promised meat.
They didn't try again.
---
In their place, Seraphina appointed the competent—
commoners, women, former slaves.
People who had bled for the empire she was building.
They were loyal. They were smart. And they would die for her.
---
The room reeled.
And Casimir laughed.
Soft. Amused. Infuriating.
He raised his glass.
"Truly inspiring," he drawled.
"And here I thought this was just another shareholder massacre."
He leaned forward, green eyes catching the light like a match in the dark.
"Darling, what does one have to do to stay in your good graces?
Strip again?
Or visit your bedroom tonight?"
Lucien rolled his eyes.
Rhys muttered, "Let's eliminate him too," drawing a dagger with far too much enthusiasm.
Seraphina smiled—just a little.
"You're not loyal, Casimir."
"No," he said cheerfully. "But I'm useful. And very good in bed."
And then, as if to prove it, he began unbuttoning his shirt.
She blinked. Sighed.
"Pfffffffttttttt."