Chapter 31- Smoking Hot

Veronica’s gaze flicked toward the maid—a young woman, maybe twenty-five, with sharp eyes and callused hands that suggested she was more than just domestic help.

The other servants shifted slightly, their attention focused on Veronica.

Waiting.

Veronica exhaled smoke slowly, rubbing her swollen cheek with one hand.

"Do you really think," she said softly, her voice hoarse, "I’ll ever get a man like him?"

The servants’ heads lowered.

"Power," Veronica continued, taking another drag. "That’s all that matters. A man in power to support my underground business. I’m too old now to seduce someone ’more’ powerful."

She laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and broken.

"If you kill this guy, who am I going to make president? Huh?"

The maid didn’t respond.

Veronica was about to take another drag when one of the other servants approached, holding a small package.

"My Lady," the servant said carefully. "This just arrived. It’s addressed to Young Master Victor."

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"A USB drive. No return address."

Veronica’s expression went cold.

"Plug it in. Safely. Check for spyware first."

The servant nodded and hurried off toward the study.

Ten minutes later, Veronica stood in front of a computer screen, cigarette dangling from her lips, eyes fixed on the video playing in front of her.

CCTV footage.

University hallway.

Time stamp: today.

And there, clear as day, was Elena.

Her son’s fiancée. The ’pristine’ daughter of a business magnate. The girl who was supposed to be Victor’s perfect, untouchable bride.

Pressed against a wall.

Kissing another man.

His hands on her waist. Her body leaning into his. The kiss lasting far too long to be anything innocent.

Veronica’s face went completely still.

The cigarette burned down to ash between her fingers, forgotten.

She watched the footage loop once. Twice.

Then she reached for her phone.

Her voice, when she spoke, was ice.

"Kill him."

The silence that followed Veronica’s command was absolute.

The servants stood frozen, waiting for clarification, hands already moving toward phones to make the necessary calls.

But before anyone could dial, one of the male servants—an older man with graying hair and the kind of weathered face that suggested he’d seen too much over the years—cleared his throat.

"My Lady," he said carefully, his voice hesitant. "About that man..."

Veronica’s eyes snapped toward him, cold and sharp. "What about him?"

The servant shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. "Young Master Victor... he sent a few men yesterday. To threaten someone. A student at the university."

Veronica’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind her eyes. "And?"

"This guy in the video..." The servant gestured toward the frozen frame on the screen. "He looks similar. Not exactly the same, but... similar."

Veronica’s cigarette burned forgotten between her fingers, ash falling to the expensive carpet.

Her gaze locked onto the servant with laser focus. "Show me."

The servant fumbled with his phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen before turning it toward her.

The image was grainy—clearly taken from a distance, probably by one of Victor’s thugs before they made their approach.

It showed a young man. College-aged. Average build. Decent-looking but nothing special.

Dark hair. Normal clothes. The kind of guy who’d blend into any crowd without a second glance.

Veronica took the phone from the servant’s hand, holding it next to the computer screen.

Her eyes moved between the two images.

The photo: average. Unremarkable. Forgettable.

The CCTV footage: ’striking’. Model-level attractiveness. Broad shoulders, defined jawline, the kind of magnetic presence that made people stop and stare.

They looked... similar. The bone structure was close. The hair color matched.

But everything else?

Completely different.

"When was this photo taken?" Veronica asked, her voice quiet and deadly calm.

"Yesterday afternoon, My Lady. Right before the men approached him on campus."

Veronica’s eyes narrowed to slits.

Her gut—the same instinct that had helped her claw her way up from nothing, that had kept her alive in a world of predators—was screaming at her.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

The timeline was too perfect. Too ’orchestrated’.

Her son sends men to threaten this student. The next day, that same student—’transformed’, somehow—is caught on camera kissing Victor’s fiancée. And then a USB drive containing that footage shows up at their house with no return address.

"It’s him," Veronica said softly, more to herself than anyone else.

The servants exchanged confused glances.

"My Lady?" one of them ventured. "Are you certain? They look quite different—"

"It’s ’him’," Veronica repeated, her voice harder now.

She turned back to the computer screen, her finger tracing the outline of Raven’s figure in the CCTV footage.

He was taller in this video. Broader. His posture radiated confidence that hadn’t been present in the photo from yesterday.

And Elena—Veronica knew that girl’s measurements. Had personally vetted her as a suitable match for Victor. Had studied every detail of her appearance and background.

Elena was five-foot-seven. Not short.

But in this footage, the man kissing her made her look ’small’. His frame dwarfed hers, his hands spanning her waist with ease.

That wasn’t possible.

Not unless...

Veronica’s eyes widened slightly—the first real crack in her controlled facade.

’Unless he can change his appearance.’

The thought should’ve been absurd. Laughable.

Magic wasn’t ’real’. This was the modern world. Prague, 2026. Not some fantasy novel.

But Veronica hadn’t survived this long by ignoring evidence just because it didn’t fit her worldview.

And the evidence was staring her right in the face.

"My Lady?" The maid who’d originally suggested killing Alexander stepped forward. "Should I make the call?"

Veronica’s hand moved to her phone, thumb hovering over the contact for her most reliable ’problem solver’.

One call. That’s all it would take.

By tonight, this Raven character would be found in an alley somewhere, victim of a tragic mugging gone wrong.

Clean. Simple. Permanent.

Her thumb hovered over the screen.

But something made her stop.

She looked back at the frozen image on the computer—at the way Raven held Elena, at the confidence in his posture, at the subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth like he ’knew’ he was being recorded.

Like he ’wanted’ them to see.

’He orchestrated this,’ Veronica thought, her mind racing. ’Sent those men to threaten him. Transformed himself somehow. Seduced Victor’s fiancée. Sent us the evidence.’

But ’why’?

What was his endgame?

Veronica’s gaze drifted away from the screen, landing on her own reflection in the darkened window across the room.

She saw herself clearly—makeup doing its best to hide the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, the sag of skin that no amount of expensive creams could fully correct.

Her body, once her greatest weapon, was starting to betray her. Still attractive for her age, but ’for her age’ was the operative phrase.

She’d used this body to climb the social ladder. Had spread her legs for the right men, smiled through the degradation, played the game better than anyone.

And what had it gotten her?

A husband who beat her. A son who was useless. A life of quiet suffering wrapped in expensive clothes and hollow power.

’This is the limit,’ she thought bitterly, her hand unconsciously touching her swollen cheek. ’This is as far as greed can take me.’

But this boy—this ’Raven’—he had something she didn’t.

Something ’impossible’.

’Magic,’ the word whispered through her mind like a serpent’s hiss. ’If he can change his appearance... what else can he do?’

Veronica lowered her phone.

"Don’t invite him," she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the tense silence.

The servants looked up, confused.

"My Lady?"

"Don’t invite him," Veronica repeated, her tone colder now. More certain. "Just grab him. Put him in the car and bring him here."

She took a long drag from her cigarette, the ember flaring bright red in the dim light.

"I might just kill someone today to get rid of this frustration."

The servants exchanged glances, then nodded.

"Understood, My Lady."

They began filing out of the study, moving with practiced efficiency born from years of carrying out orders they didn’t question.

"Also make sure you bring enough men," Veronica interrupted flatly. "I don’t care how you do it. Just bring him here. Alive."

The maid bowed and disappeared through the doorway.

Veronica was left alone in the study, standing in front of the computer screen with its damning footage still frozen in place.

She took another deep drag from her cigarette, holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling slowly.

The smoke curled in front of her face, creating a hazy veil between her and the world.

Her eyes—once sharp and calculating, now tired and empty—stared through that gray fog at nothing in particular.

"Fuck this world."

Suddenly a man’s voice jolted her attention awake.

"Why not just fuck me then?"

’!?!’