Chapter 8: Shadows Cast by the Untouchable
The quiet that fell over the ballroom was palpable, an eerie stillness that swallowed every breath, every whisper. It had begun with their arrival—the Vasilievs.
Ava. Adriano. The two of them, as imperious as gods, had stepped into the room as if the very air had bowed before them.
But that wasn't what sent the chill down Dmitri's spine.
No. It was the realization that they weren't here for him. Not for his birthday. Not for his title.
They were here for Kian.
And Dmitri stood in the shadow of that truth, a faint tremor working its way through his fingers. His grip tightened on the glass in his hand, the crystal cool against his skin, its weight a cruel reminder of just how far he had fallen.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Kian had always been the golden boy, the perfect son, the flawless heir. His reputation was pristine, his mind as sharp as a blade, his future an unassailable throne.
And Dmitri?
Dmitri was a joke.
He was a 29-year-old man whose name had become synonymous with scandal—five illegitimate children, a string of affairs, rumors about his many indiscretions that had plagued him for years. He'd tried everything to make himself matter, to make his father look at him with the pride Kian received so effortlessly. But nothing had worked. And now, as he watched Kian—so young, so cold, so perfect—be celebrated by the entire room, Dmitri's hatred boiled hotter than ever.
They never even noticed him. Not once.
Not Ava. Not Adriano. Not even his own father. The Vasilievs—legends in their own right—didn't even acknowledge his existence.
They had crossed oceans, not to honor him, but to show reverence to Kian.
Kian's entrance had been as smooth as it always was. He moved through the crowd like he was the air itself—untouchable. Dmitri watched from the corner, barely able to contain the knot of rage twisting in his stomach. The guests—rich, powerful, influential—fawned over him, practically falling over themselves to get his attention.
Why?
What made Kian so special?
Why did the world bend to him?
And what about Dmitri?
The son of Victor Fenix, heir to the Fenix empire. The very bloodline that had once struck terror into the hearts of men. But now?
Now Dmitri couldn't even catch a single glance from the people who adored his half-brother. His entire existence seemed to pale in comparison to Kian's.
In the quiet distance of his mind, an idea began to form—an idea as dark and twisted as the thoughts that circled his every waking moment. Kian had everything.
Everything.
But Dmitri had one thing Kian didn't: the ability to destroy.
And tonight, he was going to remind everyone just how fragile Kian's perfection really was.
Dmitri had spent weeks preparing for this moment. For Kian's inevitable fall.
The drug was the perfect tool. Aezir 9X. A substance so potent, so insidious, that only the most elite of the underground world even knew about it. Its effects were subtle at first—just enough to make someone lose control, to let the cracks show in the perfect veneer they had built. But once it began to take hold, there was no going back.
It didn't render the body unconscious. No.
It made the body desire.
It made the mind want—in a way it couldn't resist.
The perfect drug to humiliate the untouchable Kian. A drug that would strip away every inch of his control and expose him for what he really was—just a man. A man who could be brought low by something as simple as a touch. A look.
And Dmitri was going to be the one to make it happen.
He had watched Kian approach the bar, ever the center of attention, and with practiced precision, he had moved into position. The drug—disguised as a simple drink, undetectable by any ordinary means—was already inside the glass, dissolving smoothly into the liquid. Dmitri had slipped away unnoticed, his pulse quickening with anticipation.
Soon, Kian would fall.
The sound of Kian's voice cut through Dmitri's thoughts, calm, collected as always. Kian had just ordered another drink, his gaze focused elsewhere, unaware of the storm swirling around him. Dmitri's eyes fixed on the glass, his hand clenching tighter around his own drink.
This was it. The moment Kian would drink from the cup.
Kian's fingers brushed against the rim of the glass, his eyes locking briefly with Dmitri's from across the room. A fleeting look, almost imperceptible. But it was enough. Dmitri's smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as Kian took the glass from the bartender. The world outside the moment blurred. Dmitri was no longer in the ballroom. He was in the dark, hidden world where power was shaped by the hands of those who controlled it. And Kian was about to lose his hold on that control.
Kian raised the glass to his lips, the liquid glinting in the low light. His expression remained neutral, unaffected, as always. But Dmitri knew what was happening. Kian's perfect image was about to crack.
As the glass touched Kian's lips and the first sip slid past his tongue, Dmitri could almost feel the weight of it—of the moment Kian had unknowingly crossed the point of no return.
Dmitri's fingers twitched. He felt it in his bones. The game was on.
And then it was done.
The drug had taken hold. Dmitri watched the slight shift in Kian's gaze, the softening of his features that no one else noticed. But Dmitri saw it.
He had made sure of it.
The ballroom, oblivious to the drama unfolding in their midst, continued as it had before. Music flowed, laughter echoed. But for Dmitri, everything had changed. He had done it.
Now, it was just a matter of time.