Isabelle's POV
The world ended with the sound of screeching metal and my heart stuttering in my chest.
One second I was Althea De Valois, standing on that stage with the violin under my chin, watching the donors go pale as the music filled the hall.
The next second, a massive shadow blocked the spotlight. I heard Dmitri scream my name. Then a mountain of glass and iron slammed into the stage right next to me. It missed me by inches.
The impact still hit like a punch. The stage shook under my feet. Crystal shattered everywhere, exploding into the air. Something slammed into my shoulder and knocked me backwards. My head struck the wooden floor.
For a moment, everything went blurry. I tasted blood and old dust at the corner of my mouth. My ears were ringing so loud I couldn't even hear the people screaming. Through the dust, I saw someone throw themselves over me, shielding my body as the rest of the glass rained down like jagged diamonds.
Dmitri.
He let out a groan that sounded like pure agony. He was heavy, but his weight was the only thing keeping me from drifting toward the dark edges of my vision. Dust and smoke filled the air. Somewhere in the hall people were shouting, chairs scraping, heels pounding against marble as the donors fought to reach the exits.
"Dmitri?" I coughed.
My lungs burned. My temple was sticky with something warm and wet.
He pushed himself up slowly, as every movement hurt. His tuxedo was shredded and streaked with dust. One shoulder was soaked with blood where a jagged piece of crystal had cut through fabric and skin. He looked at me with eyes so wide and frantic that it actually scared me.
"Don't... don't you dare close your eyes, Isabelle," he rasped. He was shaking. "Look at me. Stay right here."
Then people flooded the stage.
Security. Teachers.
And Julien.
"Get away from her!" Julien shouted. He shoved a dazed donor out of the way. His face was pale and tight with panic. He saw the blood on me.
"Isabelle!"
"Oh God—Isabelle!"
Dmitri made a low sound, almost a growl, but the strength was already leaving him. He looked like he was about to pass out. Medics swarmed us, dragging him back so they could deal with his shoulder. He fought them for a second before giving in.
Hands lifted me from the floor and carried me toward the infirmary while the remains of the chandelier lay shattered across the stage behind us.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered the threat from this afternoon. At least they came for me instead of him. Somehow… that made me glad.
The great Valois reveal had lasted less than two minutes.
Later that Night
The school had slipped into that strange, polite kind of chaos rich people prefer. The gala was over.
Donors were quietly escorted into black cars while staff pushed nondisclosure agreements in their hands. Somewhere in the administration wing, people were already rehearsing the official story.
Faulty wiring.
I sat on the edge of the infirmary bed. The sheets were freezing. I had a bandage on my head and my hand was wrapped in gauze. The smell of antiseptic made my stomach turn.
Dmitri was in the next room. I could hear him through the wall, low and irritated, arguing with the doctors. They wanted to send him to the hospital but he refused. He kept saying he wasn't leaving until he saw me.
For some reason, that was the most comforting thing I'd heard all night.
Then the door opened. Julien stepped inside.
He looked wrecked. He looked worse than I did with a bandage wrapped around my head. His tie was gone. His hair was full of dust and sweat. There were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. He leaned against the door like his legs were about to give out.
"They're saying it was an equipment failure," Julien whispered. His voice sounded hollow. "My dad, the Schuylers... they're in a meeting right now fixing the story.
Something in his expression cracked.
They almost killed you for real this time, Isabelle. They dropped a thousand pounds of glass on you right in front of me."
"I know."
My voice sounded distant, even to myself.
"I saw the guy in the rafters, Julien. He had bolt-cutters. It wasn't an accident at all."
He crossed the room and dropped to his knees by my bed. He reached for my hand, but his fingers were shaking so hard he wouldn't touch me.
"I'm done," he choked out. A tear hit the white sheet. "I can't keep pretending. I can't watch them try to kill the only thing that makes me feel like a person. My dad's a monster, Isabelle. And I've been helping him just by staying quiet."
"Julien—"
"No, please. Just listen," he pleaded, finally grabbing my hand.
His grip was tight and desperate. "I've loved you since the day you showed up at the Cathedral looking like you were carrying the whole world on your back. And I've been a coward."
His voice broke.
"I thought if I stayed close to them, I could protect you somehow. But tonight… I almost watched them kill you."
He looked up at me. His face was completely raw.
"I don't care about the Rousseau name. The vineyards, the money…screw all of it," he shook his head slowly.
"I just want you."
His voice softened.
"I'll leave. I'll go to the cops. I'll testify against my dad and Viktor. I'll tell everyone everything if you leave with me tonight. Please. Don't go back to the mess. Don't go back to Dmitri. He likes the blood and the chaos. You deserve better than being a target."
My heart did a weird double-thump.
He was offering me a way out. A quiet life where I could just be a girl again. No more shadows. No more "accidents." No more having a target on my back.
But then I thought about the door. I thought about Dmitri jumping off that balcony without a second thought. I thought about the files in my locker. The proof of who I really was.
"Julien," I whispered. I felt like I was being ripped in half. "I don't even know who I am yet. How can I run from all of this when I'm still trying to figure that out? How can I be happy knowing they won?"
"I'll help you," he said immediately, leaning his head against my knee. His shoulders were shaking.
"I'll spend every day helping you find the girl you were supposed to be. Just tell me I have a chance. Tell me it isn't him."
None of us spoke. Part of me wanted to say yes. Part of me wanted to be safe. But the fire Dmitri had lit. The Valois fire was still burning. Althea didn't want to run. She wanted blood. She wanted to see their faces when the truth finally caught up to them.
Before I could say anything, the door slammed open.
Dmitri stood there. His arm was in a sling, his shirt was soaked in blood and his eyes were burning with anger. He saw Julien on the floor and he looked like he wanted to throw him out the window.
"The Schuylers are moving the records tonight, Isabelle," he said.
He didn't even acknowledge Julien. "They're burning everything from the 2005 liquidation. If we don't move now, Althea De Valois stays dead. You have ten seconds to decide if you're a survivor or a victim."
I looked at Julien, the promise of a quiet life. Then I looked at Dmitri, the blood, the dark, and the throne.
It wasn't just about the guys. It was about who I was going to be.
"I'm coming with you," I said. Julien let go of my hand slowly, like it had burned him.
"Then get up. The fire's already started."