The Iron God Claims His Brother's Ex

Seraphina POV:

The carriage stopped in front of Silverwood Manor. Looking at the familiar mansion, for the first time, I felt it was an exquisite cage, and I, the prey trapped within. The grand estate, funded entirely by my mother's dowry, now looked like a bloated leech, gorging itself on our blood.

I wanted to head straight to my room to prepare for my counterattack, but before I could even reach the stairs, a servant arrogantly blocked my path. "The Matriarch demands your presence in the dining hall immediately. The family is waiting."

I sneered inwardly. Waiting to devour me, no doubt. I changed my direction and walked toward the dining hall.

The room was filled with a stuffy fragrance, my grandmother's favorite expensive incense used to display her noble taste. She sat ramrod straight in the main seat, her hand resting on the ebony cane that symbolized her power. Her face was as dark as a stormy sky.

My aunt, Beatrice, Clarisa's mother, sat on a nearby chair. She didn't even bother dabbing her eyes; the malicious glee on her face was completely undisguised.

"You have the face to come back!" my grandmother slammed her cane on the floor with a dull thud as soon as I entered. "Do you have any idea what you've done in the palace today? You fool!"

Beatrice immediately chimed in, her tone dripping with venom. "Seraphina, how could you publicly refuse the Crown Prince's grace? That was the position of a secondary consort! A position countless noble girls dream of, and a Dragonless like you should be on your knees thanking the gods for it! It's the only way trash like you could ever enter the royal court."

I stood at the end of the long table, meeting her gaze coldly. "If being a royal bed-slave is such a high honor, Aunt Beatrice, why didn't you offer yourself? I'm sure your 'pure' blood would make you an excellent concubine."

Beatrice gasped, her face turning purple. "How dare you speak to your elders like that!"

My grandmother scolded sharply, "You ruined this marriage! Clarisa is a Dragon-born! She is destined for greatness. You were supposed to step aside gracefully and support her with your mother's wealth. Instead, you threw a childish tantrum! You will go back to the palace tomorrow, beg on your knees, and accept the consort position for the sake of our family's glory!"

I sneered inwardly, the sound chilling the room. "Family glory? You mean selling me off to maintain your lavish lifestyle. You speak of my 'lowly' bloodline, yet you have no problem using my mother's money to buy the very custom silk on your back."

My calmness enraged my grandmother even more. Her face flushed. "What is this attitude? No remorse! You owe this family your life! It is your duty as a daughter to sacrifice for us!"

The words were like a poisoned barb, but they couldn't hurt me anymore. I just felt tired. Arguing with these hyenas was pointless.

"My duty is done," I said, word by word. "My own affairs, I will decide for myself."

My grandmother laughed as if she'd heard the world's biggest joke. "You'll decide? What will you use to decide? The food you eat, the clothes you wear, everything you use—isn't it all given to you by the family? If you leave the Sinclair house, you won't survive a single day!"

Those words woke me up. That's right, what did I have?

I had what my mother, Eleanor Riverstone, brought into this family when she married—a dowry large enough to buy ten Silverwood Manors. For years, my mother, because of her "Dragonless" commoner status, had been scorned and exploited in this house. Her fortune was used by the family like a personal treasury.

I looked at my grandmother's face, twisted with anger, and for the first time, I felt no fear, only a cold calculation.

I stopped arguing with them and simply turned to leave the dining hall, completely ignoring her authority.

"Stop!" my grandmother roared from behind me. "You are not to leave this room without my permission! If you walk out that door, you will get nothing from this family!"

I didn't stop. Beatrice tried to grab me, but I shot her a cold look, and her outstretched hand froze in mid-air.

I was about to push open the heavy oak doors, ready to leave this suffocating room behind. But before my hand could touch the wood, another voice rang out, heavy with a hypocritical, false authority.