Chapter 147: The reunion...
Charis
I sat stiffly in the velvet chair, with my palms pressed together fighting the knot in my stomach.
It’s been a week since I awoke from my unconscious state. I didn’t know if it was still the haziness from being unconscious or what, but now that I’d started recovering, I’ve had the chance to think through a lot of things.
And now I was scared.
I stared at the documents in front of me as my eyes sort out Isolde again.
"Why are you doing this for me?" I whispered. "You know who my father is. You know what he’ll do when he finds out."
Isolde leaned back. She was sitting on a chair opposite me, and the wide brim of her hat covered her scarred face. But her visible eye glimmered with impatience.
"We’ve been through this several times, Charis," she sighed. "Everything I’m doing is for your own sake and for your good. As soon as you sign these documents, you no longer have to fear your father."
"But..."
"There are no buts, Charis," she snapped, then sucked in a deep breath. "Listen well, let me explain as plain as I can manage. There are two courts that govern your life. One belongs to werewolves. One belongs to humans. And neither can erase the other."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"In the eyes of werewolf law," Isolde continued, swirling her glass of wine, "you will always be Silas Greye’s daughter. Blood cannot be undone unless the Council of Elders strips it formally, and Silas has not done that. Whether he disowns you publicly or not, you remain his heir by birthright. That claim is untouchable."
My chest tightened at the word heir. The thought of inheriting anything from my father tasted like poison.
"But in the human courts, under civil law," Isolde went on, "adoption transfers guardianship. Papers, signatures, seals—it all binds. Once this is filed, you will be Charis Greye Knox, my daughter, my heir, with all the protection and wealth of my empire at your back. Legally recognised and permanent.
I swallowed hard. "So... I’d still be both?"
Isolde smiled, "Exactly. Two worlds. Two legacies. And for the first time, you will get to decide which one to wield. Do you stand as Greye’s blood or Knox’s heir? Or perhaps both. That is the power I’m offering."
I pressed a hand to my chest, my voice trembling. "But my father—he’ll never stop. If he learns I’m alive, he’ll drag me back, make me marry Darian Blackmoor—"
"Let him try." Isolde snapped. "You’re no longer a child, Charis. You’re eighteen. An adult in both human and werewolf law. That means you can choose me as your guardian. If Silas pushes, there will be squabbles, yes. Perhaps even a court session or two. But this time, the law will be on your side. He cannot chain you to Blackmoor unless you let him."
I swallowed hard again, whispering, "Why? Why are you really helping me? I know you said you’ve always wanted a family. You could get married and still have children and..."
For the first time, the older woman leaned forward, removing the wide-brimmed hat.
"Let’s say I get married today, and you should know it’ll be difficult for me to find someone who would love me for me at this point. So, I’d have to settle for any available man. And then I start some fertility treatments, which span from one year to eternity before it finally works. I get pregnant, give birth... how long would I have for my child to grow into adulthood..."
"But..." I tried to interject.
"Let me finish, Charis," she said sternly. "I’m thirty-five years old now. When my child is ten, I will be fifty-five. That’s too old for me. Plus, anything could happen. The child could fall sick and die, would grow up and would refuse to be useful. There are so many variables. It’s a risk I don’t want to take."
She sighed and reached for my hands.
"You’re grown. You’re strong, and I see myself in you. I see the ten-year-old girl who had been determined to survive. Plus, no girl should ever suffer the way I did. I will not let you scar before I stop them and fuck! I’m rich, Charis. And I have power. Lots of it."
***
Present day
I took a deep breath as the elevator chimed, indicating I’d arrived at my floor.
The door slid open to reveal the corridor of the newly assigned dorm floor. My hands trembled slightly as I gripped the handle of my designer luggage. It was a far cry from the battered duffel bag I’d carried as Eamon Riggs from seven months ago.
The joint living arrangement and the merging of Ravenshore and Ebonvale had been Isolde’s idea and the kind of radical change only someone like her could force through. And truthfully? I liked the idea.
It meant not being stuck with the suffocating categories and hierarchies that had once dictated everything I did. It would disrupt many existing hierarchies and force students out of their comfort zones.
This was exactly the kind of shake-up we needed to begin dismantling the system from within.
I also appreciated that the assignment system didn’t show you who your roommates would be beforehand. Four people to one room, selected randomly to give each person a chance to meet others outside their usual circles. It was democratic in a way that our society rarely embraced, and it would make our mission much easier to execute.
Despite returning as myself—as Charis—I still felt nervous that someone might recognise me. The physical transformation had been dramatic, but some things couldn’t be changed. The way I moved, certain expressions, the shape of my hands. Anyone who had known Eamon intimately might spot the similarities if they looked closely enough.
As I stepped into the corridor, I froze. Standing directly in front of me, checking something on his phone, was Marcus.
The blood drained from my face as I saw him. Marcus had been one of Eamon’s closest friends outside of Rhett, Slater, and Kael.
He looked up from his phone and his eyes met mine. For a terrifying moment, I was certain I saw recognition flicker across his features. My heart hammered against my ribs as we stared at each other, and I found myself completely frozen to the spot.