Extra-Changing Fate

Chapter 26 ==Not Related?==

"Hey Alyssa! We've met again!"

My spine stiffened, a jolt of irritation shooting through me before I even finished turning. The voice, smooth as silk yet sharp as a blade, belonged to the very last person I wanted to see right now. I twisted around, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace plastered onto my face. Standing there, just as I'd expected, was my cousin – Marcus. He had a way of appearing out of thin air, like a persistent shadow, and for what felt like ages, he'd been haunting my every step.

"Cousin!" I chirped, my voice dripping with a sweetness I certainly didn't feel. "What a... delightful coincidence that we've met here, on the path leading directly to the west wing. The one place, might I add, that I'm only permitted to go." I let the sarcasm hang in the air, but he simply ignored it, a familiar smirk playing on his lips as he casually placed both hands on my shoulders. His grip was light, yet it felt heavy, like a subtle claim.

A sigh escaped me, unheard. Seriously, why was I cursed with this height? Everyone around me seemed to tower over me, built like ancient oak trees, and yet the author of my life decided I should be a perpetual sprout. Was it some lingering karma from my past life, a tiny soul dragging its shortness along into this new existence?

"Are you going to meet with Grandfather also?" he asked, his tone laced with feigned innocence.

I sighed again, this time much louder, making sure he heard it. "Cousin, I honestly don't understand why you're doing this. Just... please, stop. Stop clinging to me."

He leaned in slightly, his sly smile widening, and an unsettling prickle ran down my arms.

"I'm just curious, Alyssa. Why did you choose to go and ask for help from that unknown-faced Kian, when you have me? Your very own cousin, and the rival to his faction, no less." He even managed to make a little pout, which only served to highlight the calculating glint in his eyes.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he truly jealous? Jealous that I had chosen Kian, a man whose face remained a complete mystery to everyone outside his inner circle, over him? It seemed so. And with that realization came another: I was officially the only outsider who knew Kian's face. Not even my own cousin, despite his constant meddling, had managed to uncover it.

"Cousin, Grandfather himself wanted a connection with Kian," I stated, trying to keep my voice even. "So, you should direct your complaints to him."

He snorted, a derisive sound. "You always use Grandfather as an alibi, don't you? My men reported everything. You purposely chose Kian, from the exact location of the death traders' meeting to the precise time you defeated him in chess."

I rolled my eyes. This man was far too suspicious of me, but at this point, I just didn't care. Soon, I would leave this household for good, and all his petty machinations would be meaningless.

"But Alyssa," Marcus continued, his voice dropping to a more serious, almost possessive tone, "will you choose Kian as your lover?"
His words hit me like a physical blow. I froze, my feet rooted to the spot.

Wa—

Wait.

Did he just say... lover?!?!?

What in the hell was he misunderstanding?!

"What made you say that?" I demanded, spinning around fully to face him, my hand automatically swatting his heavy hands from my shoulders.

And then I flinched. His expression had crumpled, just slightly, a fleeting shadow of what looked like... sadness? What the— was he genuinely upset?

"Smiley told me," he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor, "that the young Silverton golden-eyed princess would be their future mistress."

My fists clenched. Smiley! That absolute brat of a man! So he was the source of this outrageous misunderstanding!

"Actually, no," I stated, my voice sharp with irritation. "My relationship with Kian is solely for business, and I have no plans to go beyond that. And besides," I added, placing my hands firmly on my hips, my gaze challenging his, "who are you to decide who I choose as my lover?"

"I'm—"

"Marcus... what are you doing here?"

His words were cut short. Both of our heads snapped towards the entrance of the west wing. Grandfather stood there, his silver hair impeccably combed, his eyes narrowed into a glare that was unmistakably aimed at Marcus.

"Grandfather," Marcus began, recovering quickly, "I wanted to talk with Alyssa... regarding something."

I glanced between the two of them, utterly confused. Grandfather's glare intensified, a silent storm brewing in his eyes, but Marcus didn't flinch. He stood his ground, a defiant figure confronting the patriarch.

"I would advise you," Grandfather's voice was low, laced with a warning, "not to say it. Your cousin's..."

Wait? What did that even mean? My cousin's what?

"...And I know that I don't have my father's blood," Marcus continued, ignoring Grandfather's veiled threat, his voice now resonating with a strange, almost triumphant note. "It's somehow... okay... isn't it?"

My breath caught in my throat.

I watched, stunned, as Grandfather's eyes twitched. His composure, usually as solid as granite, cracked, revealing a flicker of profound shock. And I, too, was utterly floored. Of course, I was.

"How the hell do you know that?" Grandfather demanded, his voice rough with surprise.

Marcus stared at him, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Father... he told me."