"Enough," the grey-haired man snapped, although he looked suddenly unsure. "This tribunal has heard the evidence and taken into account the confessions of the Covenant House Regents. We are prepared to deliver our verdict." My breath caught in my throat. This was it. The moment my fate would be sealed. I glanced at Logan, Ryder, and Cole, unable to help myself. They looked devastated, their faces masks of anguish and resignation. The sight should have given me satisfaction;they were finally facing consequences for their actions, but all I felt was a hollow emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole.
"Cadence Turner, this tribunal finds you-"
The doors to the chamber burst open with a crash that made me jump. All heads turned as a figure strode purposefully into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention.
James Killingham.
He was dressed in a sharply tailored suit, his usually immaculate appearance slightly dishevelled, as if he'd been travelling. His eyes swept the room, taking in the scene with a quick, assessing gaze before landing on me. Something flickered in his expression, something that might have been concern, before his face hardened into a mask of cold fury.
"This tribunal will cease immediately," he declared, his voice ringing with authority. The grey-haired man rose to his feet, indignation written across his features.
"High Lord Killingham, this is most irregular-"
"Irregular?" Killingham cut him off, advancing toward the tribunal bench. "What's irregular is that this tribunal was convened without proper notification to the High Lords. What's irregular is that serious charges are being brought against a Consort based on evidence that has not been properly vetted." He stopped directly in front of the bench, his posture radiating contained power. "The moment Blake phoned me last night, I jumped on a flight back from New Mexico. As I have just said, I demand that these proceedings be halted immediately."
The room erupted in murmurs, the tension palpable as the tribunal members conferred among themselves. I stood frozen,unable to process what was happening. James Killingham was defending me? Why?
"With all due respect, High Lord," the grey-haired man said, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining his composure, "your status as High Lord does not give you the authority to interfere in this case. The evidence against Miss Turner is substantial, and the Regents' confessions-"
"My status as High Lord may not give me that authority," Killingham interrupted, his voice cutting through the chamber like a blade, "but being her biological father certainly does."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I staggered back, my hand flying to the wall behind me for support as the room seemed to tilt beneath my feet. Biological father? My ears rang, the sound of blood rushing through my veins drowning out the sudden uproar that filled the chamber.
James Killingham was claiming to be my father?
The grey-haired man was on his feet, banging his gavel, shouting for order, but his voice barely penetrated the chaos that had erupted. I couldn't take my eyes off Killingham, searching his face for any resemblance to my own, any sign that what he was saying could possibly be true.
"This is preposterous!" Aaron Purcell's voice cut through the din, his face contorted with rage. "A desperate attempt to save the girl from justice!"
"Is it?" Killingham replied coolly, rolling up his sleeve to expose his forearm. "Then I suggest we settle this matter definitively. A DNA test will prove my claim. I submit myself for testing immediately."
I couldn't breathe. The room spun around me as I struggled to make sense of what was happening. James Killingham, the man who had always seemed so coldly detached, so much a partof the system that had tormented me, yet also so attentive and interested in me, was claiming to be my father? Was offering his DNA to prove it?
My eyes sought out Logan, Ryder, and Cole, needing to see their reactions, to know if they had any part in this new twist. Their expressions mirrored my own shock, wide eyes, slack jaws, and complete disbelief. They hadn't known. This wasn't part of their plan. Which meant it might actually be true.
"Order! I will have order in this tribunal!" the grey-haired man shouted, his face flushed with anger as he banged his gavel repeatedly. Gradually, the noise subsided, though the tension remained thick enough to cut with a knife.
"These claims are very serious, High Lord Killingham," the grey-haired man said once he had regained control of the room. "But if you are willing to submit to a DNA test, we will of course accommodate that request." He glanced at his fellow tribunal members, who nodded in agreement, some looking distinctly uncomfortable. "This tribunal is adjourned pending the results of the DNA test. The accused will be returned to holding."
As the enforcers moved to escort me out, my gaze locked with Killingham's. He nodded slightly, a gesture so subtle I might have imagined it, but something in his eyes, concern, determination, something almost like affection, made my breath catch in my throat.
Aaron Purcell was on his feet, his face a mask of fury as he pulled out his phone and stalked toward the exit, brushing past me without a glance. Blake, on the other hand, looked smugly satisfied, as if a particularly complex plan had just come together perfectly. And the guys, the men who had claimed to love me even as they destroyed me. They sat frozen in their seats, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion to something thatmight have been hope. I couldn't bear to look at them any longer, couldn't stand to see relief on their faces when my world had just been turned upside down yet again.
As the enforcers led me from the chamber, I caught one last glimpse of Killingham. He was watching me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes never leaving mine until the doors closed between us. James Killingham. My father? The possibility was so absurd and completely unexpected that I couldn't begin to process it. If it was true, why had he never said anything? Why had he let me struggle and suffer all these months? But then he had been annoyed when the two punishments had been forced on me by the guys. Had made excuses to see me in the hospital, hell, he had even been with my Grandfather. Did they know each other? Did my grandfather know that he was my father?
And if it wasn't true, if this was just another manipulation, another game being played with my life as the prize... I didn't think I could survive it, not after everything else. The enforcers took me back to the holding room, their grip on my arms gentler than before, as if Killingham's claim had changed how they saw me. As if being his daughter made me something more than just another accused criminal.
Once alone in the stark white room, I sank into a chair, my legs no longer able to support me. My mind raced, replaying every interaction I'd ever had with Killingham, searching for signs, for clues that might confirm or deny his claim. He'd always been distant, authoritative, part of the system that had trapped me at Regents. But he'd also been the one to investigate the Second Punishment Protocol, to declare me innocent of Julia's false accusations. He'd seemed genuinely angry on my behalf when he'd learned of it. He had even been so willing to change thecontract that the guys had forced on me when I had asked. But could I really believe that he was my father?
The white walls of the holding room seemed less threatening now, though no less sterile. I sat rigidly in the uncomfortable plastic chair, my hands folded in my lap to hide their trembling. Hours had passed since they'd taken my blood sample, the needle's sting a distant memory compared to the emotional whiplash of the past twenty-four hours. Through thesmall window in the door, I could see them. Logan, Cole, and Ryder. They sat in a row of chairs along the opposite wall, none of them speaking, their exhaustion evident in the slump of their shoulders and the hollows beneath their eyes. Logan's head was tipped back against the wall, his throat exposed, vulnerable in a way I rarely saw him. Cole sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at his clasped hands as if they held answers to questions I couldn't begin to imagine. And Ryder, my chest tightened painfully, Ryder was the only one looking toward my door, his blue eyes bloodshot, his usually immaculate hair a dishevelled mess from running his hands through it too many times.
I turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer. Their confessions in the tribunal chamber still echoed in my mind, each word a fresh wound. A cup of coffee. They had orchestrated my entire downfall over a cup of coffee. The scholarship manipulation, the Courts House transfer, the Consort contract, all of it was an elaborate revenge plot because I'd stood up to Logan that day on the quad. The thought made me physically ill, my stomach clenching with a fresh wave of betrayal and grief.
But beneath that pain, beneath the righteous anger that had sustained me through the night, lurked something worse, a treacherous longing that I couldn't seem to extinguish. I hated them for what they'd done, for the lies, for the manipulation. But I missed them, too. I missed Ryder's infectious energy, Cole's steady presence, and Logan's fierce protectiveness. I missed the way they'd held me after my captivity, the way they'd dyed my hair purple again to help me reclaim a piece of myself. I missed the feeling of safety I'd found in their arms, however false it might have been.
And now, with James Killingham's bombshell claim that he was my biological father, I felt untethered. The men I'd cometo love had betrayed me from the beginning. The mother who'd abandoned me had tried to sell me as a child. And now the cold, intimidating High Lord of the Trivium was claiming to be my father. The universe, it seemed, had a particularly cruel sense of humour where I was concerned.
The sound of the door unlocking jolted me from my thoughts. I straightened in my chair, my heart hammering against my ribs as James Killingham stepped into the room. He looked different somehow, less the untouchable High Lord and more... human. There were lines of exhaustion around his eyes, and his usually immaculate suit was slightly rumpled, as if he'd been wearing it for too long.
