Chapter 8: A Bitter Potion
The grand ballroom was alive with the hum of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of a piano playing in the corner. Guests from all over the world filled the space, swarming around Kian's 18th birthday celebration. But there was an undercurrent to the evening—one that not everyone could feel, but Kian could sense it lingering just beneath the surface.
Dmitri, his older brother, had been uncharacteristically distant throughout the night, a coldness in his gaze that only Kian had noticed. But that wasn't the only thing that unsettled him. The whispers that floated through the crowd spoke of something else. Something about tonight. There was tension in the air, but Kian couldn't quite place it.
Suddenly, the doors to the ballroom opened, drawing the attention of the entire room. All conversation ceased, and the guests parted like the Red Sea as two figures entered with an undeniable presence—Seraphine Vasiliev's parents.
Kian's gaze flicked to them immediately. There was no mistaking the power that radiated off of them. The crowd was practically paralyzed with awe, and even his father, the world's second most powerful man, stood a little straighter in their presence.
Maximilian Vasiliev—the patriarch, a tall figure with cold, calculating eyes—surveyed the room, his every movement deliberate. Next to him, Isabella Vasiliev, his wife, a woman who seemed to command the very space she stood in with nothing more than a glance, nodded at the crowd in approval.
Kian's pulse quickened. He didn't know the Vasilievs personally, but he had heard enough about them to know that they were far beyond the reach of even his father. His older brother, Dmitri, also seemed to acknowledge their arrival with a stiff nod, his expression unreadable.
A few moments passed before Maximilian turned his attention to Kian, his gaze briefly meeting his before he nodded. "We will be leaving soon. Seraphine will come later. I suggest you enjoy the rest of your evening."
The words were simple, almost dismissive, but there was an unspoken message in the way Maximilian spoke—Seraphine's presence would come when it suited her, and not a moment sooner. There was a cold finality to it.
And with that, the Vasilievs drifted deeper into the crowd, vanishing into the midst of their guests, as though they had never been there at all. The subtle shift in the air was enough to make Kian feel as though something monumental had just happened, even if no one else seemed to notice.
Minutes later, Dmitri's eyes found Kian again across the room. His older brother's expression had taken on a look of cold determination. Kian, still oblivious to Dmitri's intentions, didn't react immediately as Dmitri slowly moved toward him, a glass of champagne in hand. Dmitri's mouth curled into something that resembled a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Happy birthday, Kian," Dmitri said with too much sweetness in his tone, offering Kian the glass.
Kian looked at it, noting the faintest shimmer of something in the liquid. But he didn't question it. They were family, after all. Dmitri wouldn't do anything… untoward.
At least, Kian didn't think so.
He took the glass from his brother's hand and, without a second thought, drank. The bubbles tickled his throat as he took a long sip, feeling the coolness of the champagne spread through his chest.
The effect was almost instantaneous.
It started as a slight fuzziness, a warmth that spread to the edges of his limbs. Kian frowned, setting the glass down on a nearby table. He blinked a few times, trying to focus, but the world seemed to blur just a little. His thoughts felt slower. The voices around him were muffled, the faces too distant, even though the room was crowded.
But there was something about it—something that felt... off.
Dmitri was still standing there, watching him, but there was no smile on his face anymore. His eyes were cold, calculating. Kian's heart raced in his chest, as though a surge of adrenaline was warning him that something wasn't right.
Before he could react, the world seemed to tilt around him. His head spun as the drug Dmitri had secretly slipped into the champagne began to take full effect. His knees buckled slightly, and he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself.
The crowd continued to dance, oblivious to what was happening to him.
But Kian could feel it. Something dark was about to unfold.
And as the room spun and his vision blurred, he knew, instinctively, that the evening had only just begun.