Page 45 of Goldrage (The Chrysophilist Trilogy #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

DANTE

D awn bleeds through the curtains, and I stand at the window watching light creep across the manicured grounds. My reflection stares back from the glass—hollow-eyed, jaw clenched, looking every inch the composed Harrow heir.

Except I’m not composed. Not even close.

Julian’s words from last night tore away chunks of myself.

He spoke the truth. I failed him for years, and yet now I’m expecting to swoop in and make it all better. Like his forgiveness should come easily.

I haven’t earned it. My errors were too insidious.

I let myself believe that distance was protection, that my careful maneuvering behind the scenes could shield him from the worst of our world.

I counted myself clever for diverting Father’s attention, for taking the brunt of his “lessons” when I could, for maintaining the facade of the perfect heir so Julian wouldn’t have to .

But facades don’t heal wounds. Strategic brilliance doesn’t mend a brother drowning in pain.

The estate grounds stretch before me, perfect in their order.

Guards patrol predetermined routes. Gardeners tend to immaculate hedges.

Everything precisely where it should be—except nothing is where it should be anymore.

The very foundations of our world have cracked, and I can feel the tremors spreading outward, threatening to bring everything down.

My jaw tightens from my determination. Julian can hate me. He can rage and spit venom and call me every name his broken heart conjures. But I won’t let him destroy himself. Not while I still draw breath. Whether he wants salvation or not, I’ll drag him from this abyss.

I will earn his forgiveness, even if it takes the rest of my life. I’ll prove to him that I’ve changed and will never abandon him again.

I turn from the window, focusing my mind on the practical matters I must do now. Last night’s dinner didn’t just shatter Julian’s world, it sent fractures through every level of this household.

Julian hasn’t emerged from his room. The guards posted outside report nothing—no sounds, no requests, no sign of life. It’s as if my brother has simply ceased to exist, retreating so far into himself that even his presence has become a void.

Lady Harrow has bunkered down in Lucian’s old office.

I walked past and heard her talking to someone.

She’s likely been making phone calls to Consortium members, desperately trying to maintain control as she senses her empire might crumble.

While I doubt she’d be telling anyone the truth, she’s working to solidify alliances. Damage control on an impossible scale.

Bianca, that wretched woman, has been meeting with her book club this morning, oblivious to the catastrophe unfolding around her. Part of me envies that ignorance. The larger part wants to shake her until reality penetrates her self-absorbed bubble.

But it’s the subtle shift in the guards that concerns me most. I noticed it the moment I stepped into the hallway this morning—the way conversations died mid-sentence, the uncertain glances that followed my movements.

These men who once jumped at Julian’s slightest command now drift like ships without anchors, unsure where their loyalty should lie.

Valentine’s bombshell hasn’t just revealed a secret. It’s torn the very fabric of command that holds this organization together. If Julian isn’t true Harrow blood, then who commands their allegiance? The question hangs unspoken in every averted gaze.

Time to test exactly how deep this uncertainty runs.

I straighten my shoulders and pull open my door with deliberate authority. The two guards flanking my room snap to attention, hands moving instinctively toward their weapons—a nervous tic of men standing on shifting sand.

“I won’t be needing an escort today,” I say, keeping my voice low but firm. “You’re dismissed.”

They exchange glances, and I can read the conflict in their faces. Protocol demands they follow Julian’s standing orders; I’m to be accompanied at all times, a prisoner. But with Julian’s legitimacy in question, with the very foundation of Harrow authority cracking beneath their feet…

After a heartbeat of hesitation, they step aside.

“Of course, Mr. Harrow.”

Their tone carries an acknowledgment of what I am in their eyes now: the only legitimate heir to the Harrow empire. It’s not what I ultimately want, but it will assist with my plans.

I walk past them without acknowledging the significance of their reaction to me, though my mind races with the implications. If the guards are already defaulting to my authority, how long before the rest of the organization follows? How long before this powder keg explodes?

Not long. Which means if I’m going to act, it has to be now.

As I walk through the mansion searching for Valentine, I’m suddenly aware of just how many curious gazes are around me.

Three guards in the main hallway; they straighten as I pass but make no move to stop me.

A maid scurries by with fresh linens, keeping her eyes downcast. Even the household staff can feel the shift in power, the tectonic plates of our world grinding against each other.

I’m sure all of them know the truth by now.

And once word spreads beyond these walls—and it will, secrets this explosive never stay contained—the other Consortium families will smell blood in the water.

The Harrow name has kept them in line through fear and respect.

But a bastard heir? A leader whose very blood is a lie?

They’ll tear us apart.

I find Valentine in the east wing, standing guard outside Aurelia’s room with the exhaustion of a man who hasn’t slept in days. The older man’s face shows every one of his years, grief and guilt etched into lines that seem to have deepened overnight.

“Valentine,” I say quietly. “I need you to bring Aurelia to the medical examination room. And bring a laptop, one with a secure connection. What I’m about to discuss can’t be overheard by anyone on the estate. The medical room is the most isolated space we have access to.”

Valentine snaps to attention and nods.

Twenty minutes later, I find myself hunched over a laptop screen with Valentine and Aurelia beside me, the medical room’s sterile white walls providing a stark backdrop for what feels like a war council.

On screen, Lorenzo and Eleanora are in Lorenzo’s study, while Gideon is in a small room with a lot of shelves and computer equipment.

Lorenzo looks uncharacteristically serious, Eleanora has her usual sharp focus, and Gideon’s features are pale as usual.

The man looks like he rarely ventures outside.

“I know this isn’t ideal timing,” I begin without preamble, my voice carrying the weight of decisions that could reshape the entire criminal landscape of the Pacific Northwest. “But we’re past the point of waiting for perfect conditions.

Julian’s parentage is common knowledge among the estate staff.

It’s only a matter of time before this information reaches the other families.

When it does, Julian’s claim to leadership becomes illegitimate, and my plans become much more difficult. ”

“How long do we have?” Eleanora asks.

“A few days at most. But there’s a Consortium gathering planned for three days from now—Antonio Castellano’s eightieth birthday.

It’s scheduled to be held at his estate, but Valentine can speak with them so it’s held here.

He’ll tell them the Harrows will pay for everything, so I’m sure they’ll agree.

The preparations should distract Lady Harrow.

All the major families will be in attendance, celebrating what they think is just another milestone.

We’ll instruct our guards to whisper about Julian’s parentage when the timing is right.

It should create a pressure cooker that will explode once I trigger my plan to take effect. ”

Gideon is calm and says, “Valentine helped me cut off all communication signals around the estate. As long as your guards don’t leave, they won’t be able to gossip any sooner.”

I glance at Valentine, who nods.

“Perfect. At the party?—”

“Lolo! Lolo!” a small voice shouts behind Lorenzo.

He bows his head in apology and then lifts Roby onto his lap. My heart swells at seeing the boy; it’s been too long.

Aurelia’s face lights up and she waves at the screen. “Hi, Roby!”

“Ciumachella!” Roby squeals. “I miss you. What’re you talking about?”

Aurelia and I laugh at his innocence.

Before Aurelia can respond, Lorenzo kisses Roby’s temple and says, “You’ll see your cousin soon. Wave goodbye for now and then go play outside. Can you do that?”

Roby’s shoulders hunch and his chocolate brown eyes dim, but he nods. “Bye.”

“Bye!” Aurelia says as she waves. “I’ll see you soon, I promise. We’ll be home soon.”

Home. She’s correct; Lorenzo’s estate feels more like home than any place I’ve ever lived. Now more than ever, I can’t wait to return to it with the woman I love.

Once Roby is gone, Lorenzo says, “Apologies. You were saying?”

“Yes…” It takes me a second to regain focus.

“We’ll use the rumors about Julian to our advantage.

When word starts trickling through the party, when people begin to panic about leadership, that’s when we strike.

I’ll have all of my contacts on standby and ready to act.

While they’re distracted by the immediate crisis, we start toppling dominoes. “