Chapter 142: Masks and Shadows
The mansion was unusually still when Eva finally stepped outside, long after the last of the guests had filtered out of the St. Aldwyn Symposium. The grand estate, usually alive with the hum of soft music, murmured gossip, and the delicate clink of champagne flutes, had gone quiet — only the soft glow of recessed lights and the occasional pulse of amber from wall sconces remained.
Her polished shoes tapped lightly against the marble, the sound echoing faintly in the hush. The scent of roses and aged oak lingered in the air, mingling with the fading trace of expensive perfume and burnt citrus from earlier cocktails. The house felt like it was holding its breath.
Phones had been locked away hours ago. Guards still patrolled the outer edges, speaking low into earpieces. Somewhere deeper in the manoir, the kitchen staff was likely scrubbing down silver platters, whispering about the strange little girl who'd held court like a queen.
But here, in the vast front corridor, it was just her — six years old, in a tailored midnight - blue coat far too grown for her age, walking alone as if she owned the world. And maybe, in some strange way, she did.
Earlier, when the last flute had been collected and the last smile exchanged, Eva had slipped her small hand into her aunt's gloved one. Vivienne didn't speak as they exited through the marble foyer of the symposium, her expression unreadable behind dark sunglasses she didn't remove — even at night. The car waiting outside looked like any other chauffeured vehicle — matte black, understated, sleek — but there was an unmistakable elegance in its restraint. Not a single emblem glinted. It didn't boast wealth; it whispered it. The rear passenger door opened without a word from the driver.
Vivienne let Eva slide in first. Inside, the leather seats were butter - soft, and the scent of bergamot and fine paper drifted faintly through the quiet. As the door closed behind them with a low, confident thud, the outside world faded into a blur of lamplight and midnight - blue shadows. Neither of them spoke.
The hum of the engine was smooth, nearly silent, as they slipped through the private gates of the symposium estate and into the tree - lined roads of the F••••• countryside. City lights sparkled far away, like the dying embers of a fire someone had forgotten to put out. Vivienne finally glanced over at her niece. "Was it everything you expected?"
Eva leaned her head gently against the window, watching stars smear past in silence. "It was everything they feared."
Vivienne gave a soft laugh — proud, knowing — and said nothing more. She simply reached across the seat and tugged the hem of Eva's coat down gently, the way a mother might.
The rest of the drive was made in perfect silence, until the black car finally turned down a familiar gravel path. The Manoir des Ombres awaited — still, waiting, and dark.
And as Eva stepped back through its doors, the marble beneath her feet felt different somehow. Like the earth itself was listening.
She stepped in quietly.
"Maman? Papa?" Eva's voice was small, uncertain.
Evelyn looked up immediately, her motherly warmth masking a deep fatigue. "There's my little dove." "Reginald is not here mon ange" She smiled gently but the tiredness in her eyes betrayed the worry beneath.
Vivienne's sharp gaze softened as she patted the seat beside her. "Come here, Eva."
The six - year - old climbed onto the Chenille armchair and curled into Vivienne's side. She felt safe here, but the excitement and pressure of the evening still buzzed faintly under her skin.
"How was it?" Evelyn asked, brushing Eva's hair from her forehead.
Eva's wide eyes shone with a mixture of pride and exhaustion. "Everyone looked at me a lot. They were kind… and curious."
Vivienne's mouth twitched into a half - smile. "Curious can be dangerous. Were they kind enough to leave you alone?"
Eva shrugged. "Mostly. Some asked questions I didn't want to answer."
Evelyn exchanged a look with Vivienne, a silent conversation passing between them.
"What kind of questions?" Evelyn asked softly.
Eva hesitated, then said, "About where I come from. What I'm really like. If I'm special."
"Did you tell them?" Vivienne's voice was steady but sharp.
"No," Eva said firmly. "I told them I'm just me. That's all."
Later, after Eva had gone to bed, Evelyn and Vivienne remained by the fire, their conversation low and guarded.
"Did you see her?" Evelyn's voice trembled slightly with a mixture of awe and concern. "She carried herself with such poise. But those questions… the Council is probing deeper than before."
Vivienne stirred her tea slowly, her eyes narrowed. "They want to control her. To shape what she becomes. But tonight, Eva showed them only what we allowed."
Evelyn nodded, biting her lip. "We've masked the truth well. The falsified DNA tests help. The third strand is gone — hidden. If the Council knew about the full Maxwell heritage…"
"They'd try to take her, no question," Vivienne finished grimly.
"We're playing a dangerous game," Evelyn said quietly. "Pretending obedience, while quietly protecting her."
Vivienne leaned back, her gaze distant. "The Council believes Eva is a fragile genius, a jewel to be polished and passed around. They don't know she's something far beyond that."
"And they never will," Evelyn said firmly. "Not while we're here."
The two women sat in silence, the fire's warmth unable to thaw the chill in their bones.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Eva lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft murmur of the mansion settling around her felt like a fragile barrier against the storm she could sense gathering beyond these walls.
Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the echoes of the party swirling around her. The curious eyes, the whispered speculations, the careful smiles. She knew they watched her not as a child, but as a symbol — a legacy.
She thought of her father, Reginald, and the distant look he'd carried since the Council's summons. He had warned her once about softness — how it was a dangerous luxury in their world.
But Eva was different. She was not just a child playing a role. She was a strategist, a student of the power around her.
She remembered a moment at the party: a tall man with silver hair had asked her, with a voice like silk, "Miss Ainsley, do you believe destiny guides you, or do you believe you command your fate?"
Eva's smile had been small but unwavering. "I believe we make our own choices."
That answer had silenced him.
Yes, she was ready. Emotionally, politically, spiritually. Her papa had trained her well.
Downstairs, in the privacy of his study, Reginald stood alone, the room cloaked in shadows. The night had drained him, but there was no rest for a man who carried the weight of legacies and secrets.
He poured himself a glass of dark whiskey and sat heavily, swirling the liquid thoughtfully.
Reginald's mind replayed the events of the past weeks — his confrontation with the Council, the revelations of Eva's true heritage, the chilling truth that she was not his by blood, but by fate and design.
He had acted swiftly. The loose ends — those who had whispered threats, those who might have sold secrets — were all dealt with. Quietly. Permanently.
He thought of Evelyn and Vivienne — his pretend wife and younger sister — and their gentler approaches. They clung to hope and mercy. Reginald knew better. Mercy was a weakness. A flaw he could not afford in his family.
Eva must not be soft.
He took a long sip and set the glass down with a deliberate clink.
"She will be stronger than any of us," he murmured to himself. "Because she must be. Because the world is ruthless."
Reginald's gaze hardened as he imagined his niece growing into her destiny — a future shaped by strength and cunning, not kindness and naivety.
He stood and walked to the window, staring out into the dark night. Somewhere beyond the estate, the Council waited, watching and waiting for their opportunity.
But Eva was no pawn.
Not anymore.
The next morning, the sun spilled pale light into the estate's corridors. In the nursery, Eva sat at the small wooden table, her fingers tracing the curves of a chessboard. Aunt Vivienne watched her from the doorway, pride and concern mingling in her gaze.
"You've learned quickly," Vivienne remarked, stepping inside.
Eva looked up, eyes bright. "Papa says chess is a game of strategy, like life."
Vivienne smiled. "And you're good at both."
Eva's face turned serious. "I don't want to be weak. I want to be ready."
Vivienne knelt beside her. "You already are. Stronger than most adults I know."
Eva tilted her head. "But sometimes, I'm scared."
Vivienne's hand covered Eva's. "That's okay. Courage isn't the absence of fear. It's moving forward despite it."
Eva nodded slowly, absorbing the wisdom.
Later that day, Evelyn and Vivienne met again in the study, the morning's light doing little to ease the heaviness between them.
"We must continue the charade," Evelyn said firmly. "The Council cannot suspect we know more than we reveal."
Vivienne agreed. "We'll present Eva as the precious heir with remarkable intellect. No hint of her true power."
Evelyn's brow furrowed. "It's exhausting. And dangerous."
"We have no choice," Vivienne replied. "If the Council senses our defiance, they will act."
Evelyn glanced toward the hallway where Eva's laughter echoed faintly. "For Eva's sake, we must be careful. She is too valuable."
Vivienne placed a hand over Evelyn's. "We will protect her. Always."
As evening fell, Eva lay in bed once more, her thoughts quieter but still alert.
She whispered to the darkness, "I will not be their pawn. I will be my own legacies."
And in the shadows beyond her window, unseen eyes watched, waiting for the day she would prove them right — or wrong.