Valmont Series - Inheritance Code

Chapter 8.3 - Status Reconnected

She walked past him and dropped her coat onto the edge of the reclined lounge — seamless, motion-responsive, like everything in Avalon. Her movements were smooth. Unbothered. Perfectly composed.

She paused briefly near the wall — catching her reflection in the glass pane of the privacy screen. Just enough tint to see herself.

Avalon-grade makeup could hide a lot.

Even breakdowns.

Even truth.

She looked fine.

But nothing could hide the weight in her shoulders. Not exhaustion exactly... more like aftershock.

And yet — she looked a fraction lighter. As if saying nothing still counted. As if being seen, silently, had relieved her just enough to breathe again.

She crossed the room slowly, lifting her wrist to check ONYX — expecting the usual flurry of Veritas updates.

There was nothing.

No speculation.

No timestamped alerts.

No forum tags about her "Mirror Garden" disappearance.

Her Prestige rank hadn't shifted. Not even a decimal.

Odd.

By now, she should've been trending — or tanking.

And most importantly: Cassian Dantes' Prestige link hadn't appeared.

Not on her profile.

Not in the cross-links.

Nowhere.

Good. She didn't need that igniting another scandal.

She slid off her coat, letting the thought settle.

Maybe Cassian Dantes could override everything.

Not just Veritas. Not just ONYX.

Everything.

It must be nice — to exist that far above consequence.

That far beyond protocol.

That untouchable.

A privilege, really. To be one.

Aiden broke the silence.

"You okay?"

Aria didn't answer immediately. She moved to the other end of the sofa, legs tucked under her like she might dissolve into the cushions. Her tone was too calm. That was how he knew she wasn't.

"I'm fine," she said. "Relatively."

That was her version of no.

He waited.

Aiden: "I'm sorry. I wasn't there... I didn't know the subcouncil was staged."

"Don't worry. It was lovely, really. Just got publicly dissected by a panel of legacy heirs with flawless posture and weaponized pedigree."

He winced.

Then laughed — just a little. The kind that slipped out before he could stop it.

Leave it to Aria to survive an institutional takedown and still land the best line in the room.

"You're unbelievable," he said, shaking his head.

"Unfortunately for Avalon, I'm also real."

Her voice dipped, just enough to cut through her own sarcasm.

"There's a moment when you realize they're not trying to test you anymore. They're deciding whether you deserve to exist here at all."

Aiden glanced at her, a dry edge returning to his voice.

"Where did you go after? Aurora said you disappeared. Claimed you were in the—what was it—the deadzone?"

He tilted his head, mouth twitching into a grin.

"I didn't even know Avalon had deadzones. I thought this place was curated down to the oxygen levels. Is that part of the 'emotionally fragile teens with legacy trauma' wellness program?"

Aria didn't smile. Not fully.

"Mirror Garden," she said.

She raised her wrist and summoned the AR island map. With a flick, the projection unfolded in the air — sleek, pulsing, precise.

"It opened when I asked," she said. "Just... like that. No clearance, no prompt."

She paused.

"And I realized something—this isn't just a map. It's not showing you where you are. It's telling you where you're allowed to be."

She handed him the display. He examined it.

Aiden smirked. "Obviously. You thought this place was democratic?"

She rolled her eyes, but the gesture was soft — more habit than protest.

"I'm heading to reset," she said, already crossing toward the inner hall of her Aura Suite. "Order dinner while I deconstruct."

She paused at the threshold, tossed the ONYX cue over her shoulder without looking.

"Coordinate with Lyric and NutritionCore," she said. "Something warm, something salty. No mood-stabilizers. I want flavor, not a recovery protocol."

She didn't wait for a reply.

Aiden caught the cue lazily, already pulling up the interface. "Should I order mine too, or are we pretending I'm just the staff tonight?"

She didn't answer, just raised one brow as she disappeared down the corridor.

Aiden called after her, not quite shouting, but loud enough to carry down the suite's pristine hallways.

"What about Chinese tonight?"

There was a beat of silence. Then her voice came back — dry, indifferent, and unmistakably Aria.

"Whatever."

He smiled to himself. That meant yes. Probably.

She paused at the threshold, fingers grazing the wall's touch-sensitive panel, as if anchoring herself to something—anything—before she stepped out of sight.

"Are you staying?"

He didn't hesitate. "How could I leave my little sister after that performance? I'll move into Solara Suites if I have to."

Normally, she would've rolled her eyes. Maybe tossed a line about dramatic overcompensation or questioned his sense of space.

But tonight, she didn't.

She just met his eyes across the quiet space between them.

"Thanks."

No edge. No mask. Just the word — unguarded, unpolished, and rare.

He nodded once, then turned back to the ONYX menu like it mattered more than it did.

And in that moment, maybe it did.

Next: Imperial Revival, Table for Two - It looked like food. It felt like a reunion.