Inheritance Redefined

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The arena pulsed with noise. Viremont Academy's banners draped in black, crimson red, and gold everywhere. The scent of popcorn and espresso mixed oddly in the air. Elara stood near the edge of the ice rink with Anastasia and Olivia at her side, her skate bag tucked at her feet.

Elara's nerves hummed like static electricity.

Viremont wasn't just a school. It was a fortress disguised as an academy, built a century ago to protect the heirs of the five most powerful families. Students here were whispered about in headlines and boardrooms alike, their lives gilded and lethal. Rosewood Academy–across the city, and tonight's opponent–was the cleaner counterpart. Legal, prestigious, wrapped in polished PR. But everyone knew the truth. Viremont students were dangerous. More protected, too. They were much harder to touch.

Anastasia tugged on Elara's braid. "You're going to kill it out there, Lara. The entire arena will be obsessed with you."

"Obsessed with her hair, maybe," Olivia teased.

Elara groaned loudly. "You're not helping. At all."

That's when the Rosewood team entered the arena.

They spilled through the tunnel like they owned the place, loud, laughing, their pristine white-and-blue jerseys gleaming under the lights. A few of them caught sight of Elara instantly, and smirks spread across their faces like wildfire.

"Well, look at that," one said, his voice carrying over the chatter of the crowd. "The one and only Calviero girl."

"Wrong," another cut in, grinning. "She's the Drakos girl too. Double trouble."

"Figures she'd be skating for the mafia school," a third joked.

Heat crept up Elara's neck. Anastasia bristled beside her, muttering something in Russian that Elara was ninety percent sure was a death threat. Scratch that, definitely a death threat.

Elara blew out a huff of annoyance and embarrassment. "Don't you have a game to lose or something?"

She wasn't usually sharp, but nerves had her on edge.

That only earned her more chuckles. One guy leaned just a little too close. "Relax, your highness. We're just saying hi."

Before Elara could reply, another voice slid in–smooth, accented, and sharp enough to cut through the noise.

"Careful," Thiago Moreira said. He'd appeared at Elara's side without warning, tall and broad in Viremont's dark hockey jersey, his skates already laced. His eyes glinted as he leaned casually against the wall. "Around here, we don't touch fires we can't handle."

The Rosewood boys faltered. A beat of silence passed before they laughed it off and backed away toward the rest of their team.

Thiago didn't watch them go. He just glanced at Elara, the corner of his mouth tipping into a grin. "You're welcome."

Anastasia nearly exploded when Thiago walked away. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. Ever."

Elara buried her burning face in her hands.

Across the stands, her brothers had seen everything. Elara could feel their collective rage radiating through the arena like a storm cloud waiting to burst.

Orion, perched near the railing muttered something under his breath that sounded too much like, "attracting chaos without even trying."

Elara swallowed hard, her heart pounding faster than her nerves had managed all night.

"AND FOR OUR OPENING ACT, PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR OUR VERY OWN, ELARA CALVIERO DRAKOS!!!"

Elara stepped onto the ice, skates carving smooth lines as she absorbed the music. Long, flowing glides brought her to center ice.