Chapter 8
911words
Vivienne clutched her throat and scrambled toward the door, her voice hoarse but still dripping with disgusting arrogance.
"You dare to harm me? When the lawyers get here, I'll have you thrown out of this estate! I'll make you wander the streets like a dog!"
"No need to wait, Miss Vivienne. I've been here for the past hour."
Sterling, the Vance clan's chief counsel, pushed open the door, a black briefcase in his hand.
He stepped over the splintered wood, bowing slightly to Marcus before turning to the others.
"Silas, secure the video evidence from just now." Sterling adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. "Based on that recording, Miss Vivienne's actions constitute not 'good-faith inheritance,' but 'murder with malicious intent.'"
Vivienne's face went white, and she shrieked, "So what? Isolde signed the papers! She signed them herself! All the assets are mine!"
"Indeed, she signed. But you clearly did not read the addendum to the will: Article 44, the Betrayal Clause."
Sterling pulled a black-bound document from his briefcase, presenting it directly to Grand Elder Marcus.
"Lady Isolde's directive states: If the beneficiary causes the death of the benefactor through fraud, malicious inducement, or murder, all assets will trigger an 'automatic divestment mechanism.'"
He paused, looking at Vivienne, and continued, "These billions in assets, including all of the Vance clan's tech patents, properties, and core blood banks, will be donated, free of charge, to the 'North American Vampire Hunters' Association.'"
"What?!"
Marcus let out a scream, his voice cracking from extreme terror. "The Hunters' Association? Is Isolde insane? Is she trying to get our entire race wiped out?!"
Still kneeling on the floor, Miles looked at the pile of ashes and let out a low laugh.
The laughter grew louder, uglier than a sob.
"She wasn't trying to destroy the clan," Miles muttered. "She's dragging her murderers down to hell with her."
Isolde had anticipated everything. She knew that by giving the money to the hunters, these profit-driven elders would stop at nothing to eliminate Vivienne in order to save their own skins.
As expected, Marcus's eyes filled with murderous intent.
"For the survival of the clan, we cannot allow this fortune to fall into the hands of the hunters," Marcus said grimly, his staff pointing sharply at Vivienne.
"Seize this fledgling! Immediately!"
"No! Miles! Save me!"
Before Vivienne could even scramble to her feet, several black chains shot out and pinned her to the floor.
"According to clan law, for murdering the head of the house, colluding with an external enemy, and nearly causing the clan's downfall..." Marcus pronounced coldly, "lock her in the Sun Cage at the top of the clock tower. Let her bake slowly under the noon sun."
"No! I don't want to burn to death! Miles! You promised you would protect me!"
Vivienne struggled madly but was dragged out by the elders like a dead dog. Her nails left bloody scratches on the floor.
Miles didn't move.
His gaze remained fixed on the box. That was Isolde. The woman who, no matter what mistakes he made, would always be there to quietly clean up his messes.
Now, she was a pile of ash, unwilling to even look at him again.
Sterling continued to review the documents. "There is one more thing. The lady requested that her funeral be held tonight."
"So soon?"
"She wrote in her will: 'I do not wish to be a burden to anyone, and that includes my funeral.'"
Midnight.
In a humble private cemetery, only a few people attended the funeral.
Silas gently placed the small urn into the grave. There was no ornate decoration on the box, only a simple date carved into it.
"Lord Miles, please step back." Silas stood in front of the grave, his voice as cold as a stranger's. "The lady said she does not want you to taint her path to the afterlife."
"Move."
Miles pushed him aside and walked step by step toward the urn.
His hand was trembling violently.
He wanted to tell her he was wrong, to beg for her forgiveness, and to promise that in the long, eternal life that remained, he would atone with every moment of his suffering.
As he reached out to touch the urn, a searing pain shot from his fingertips, and an invisible force threw him violently backward.
Miles raised his hand. The fingers that had touched the box were instantly charred black, the flesh split open, emitting a pungent, burnt smell.
He fell hard into the mud, a pathetic sight, but he ignored the pain, his eyes staring blankly at the box.
"You cannot touch her."
Silas explained without emotion, "The Lady placed this blood curse herself. Only those who truly loved her and never betrayed her may touch it. And you..."
Silas shook his head and placed the urn into the grave. With the first shovelful of dirt, Miles's view was cut off completely.
"You lost that right long ago."
Miles sat paralyzed in the mud for a long time.
Even in death, she rejected him.
She wouldn't even let him touch her ashes.
The grave was filled, the headstone erected.
Miles expected to see a familiar name, but the headstone was blank.
Only at the bottom, carved in the ancient vampire tongue, was a single line of small text.
"Here Lies the Last of Her Dignity."
