No flowers for the dead - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
You are reading No flowers for the dead, Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Read more chapters of No flowers for the dead.
The board didn’t go quietly.
They regrouped faster than Elias expected—rallying behind his cousin Matteo, the picture-perfect heir with polished lies and ambition sharpened by envy.
Matteo didn’t care about legacies or loyalty.
He cared about power.
And Elias had stolen the narrative.
“We let you play the rebel,” Matteo said when they met face to face in the glass hall of the Vale Holdings private annex. “But you went too far. You don’t torch your own house and expect to sleep in it.”
“I didn’t torch the house,” Elias replied. “I exposed the rot.”
“Same thing.”
“Not to the people watching. Not to the world.”
“Then enjoy your moment,” Matteo said, leaning in. “Because the storm we’re about to bring? It doesn’t end with headlines. It ends with caskets.”
⸻
Alina felt it before Elias said a word.
That subtle shift in his energy—the way he touched her like she might vanish, the way he stayed up staring at maps and files long after the world went to sleep.
He was planning something.
He always did that when he felt cornered.
“Talk to me,” she said one night, sliding into the chair across from him, her robe brushing the floor.
He looked at her, eyes shadowed. “They’ve moved to protect the inheritance clause.”
“The clause that says Vale Holdings can’t be inherited by anyone not bound by blood or marriage?”
He nodded. “They’re trying to erase me. Legally.”
“You’re the only living heir.”
“Not if I sign it all away.”
Her breath caught. “You’d walk away from the company?”
“I’d walk away from anything,” he said, voice low, “if it meant they stopped using you as leverage.”
She went silent, then reached across the table and gripped his hand. “You won’t need to. Because I have a better idea.”
⸻
The wedding was unannounced.
Private.
No press. No fanfare.
Just vows whispered in the garden of a property he’d once bought for her in Tuscany—a promise sealed not in diamonds or titles, but in touch and truth.
No one from the Vale family attended.
They weren’t invited.
Elias kissed her as the sun broke over the hills, gold light pouring between them.
“You’re mine now,” he murmured. “In name. In blood. In every goddamn way they thought they could stop.”
Alina smiled into the kiss. “Then let’s show them what that means.”
⸻
They returned to the city as husband and wife.
And the legal clause that required family inheritance?
Suddenly it was theirs.
But the victory was brief.
Because Matteo wasn’t done.
And neither were the enemies Elias couldn’t see coming yet.
⸻
It started with the car crash.
A staged accident. No brake lines.
Alina wasn’t in the car that night.
But her name was on the reservation.
And Elias knew exactly what that meant.
“They’re not just playing games anymore,” he told her.
“They’re trying to erase me.”
Alina stood by the window of their new apartment, her arms wrapped around herself. “Let them try.”
But something in her voice—calm, steady—made Elias pause.
Because Alina had stopped being afraid.
And now she was planning too.
They regrouped faster than Elias expected—rallying behind his cousin Matteo, the picture-perfect heir with polished lies and ambition sharpened by envy.
Matteo didn’t care about legacies or loyalty.
He cared about power.
And Elias had stolen the narrative.
“We let you play the rebel,” Matteo said when they met face to face in the glass hall of the Vale Holdings private annex. “But you went too far. You don’t torch your own house and expect to sleep in it.”
“I didn’t torch the house,” Elias replied. “I exposed the rot.”
“Same thing.”
“Not to the people watching. Not to the world.”
“Then enjoy your moment,” Matteo said, leaning in. “Because the storm we’re about to bring? It doesn’t end with headlines. It ends with caskets.”
⸻
Alina felt it before Elias said a word.
That subtle shift in his energy—the way he touched her like she might vanish, the way he stayed up staring at maps and files long after the world went to sleep.
He was planning something.
He always did that when he felt cornered.
“Talk to me,” she said one night, sliding into the chair across from him, her robe brushing the floor.
He looked at her, eyes shadowed. “They’ve moved to protect the inheritance clause.”
“The clause that says Vale Holdings can’t be inherited by anyone not bound by blood or marriage?”
He nodded. “They’re trying to erase me. Legally.”
“You’re the only living heir.”
“Not if I sign it all away.”
Her breath caught. “You’d walk away from the company?”
“I’d walk away from anything,” he said, voice low, “if it meant they stopped using you as leverage.”
She went silent, then reached across the table and gripped his hand. “You won’t need to. Because I have a better idea.”
⸻
The wedding was unannounced.
Private.
No press. No fanfare.
Just vows whispered in the garden of a property he’d once bought for her in Tuscany—a promise sealed not in diamonds or titles, but in touch and truth.
No one from the Vale family attended.
They weren’t invited.
Elias kissed her as the sun broke over the hills, gold light pouring between them.
“You’re mine now,” he murmured. “In name. In blood. In every goddamn way they thought they could stop.”
Alina smiled into the kiss. “Then let’s show them what that means.”
⸻
They returned to the city as husband and wife.
And the legal clause that required family inheritance?
Suddenly it was theirs.
But the victory was brief.
Because Matteo wasn’t done.
And neither were the enemies Elias couldn’t see coming yet.
⸻
It started with the car crash.
A staged accident. No brake lines.
Alina wasn’t in the car that night.
But her name was on the reservation.
And Elias knew exactly what that meant.
“They’re not just playing games anymore,” he told her.
“They’re trying to erase me.”
Alina stood by the window of their new apartment, her arms wrapped around herself. “Let them try.”
But something in her voice—calm, steady—made Elias pause.
Because Alina had stopped being afraid.
And now she was planning too.
End of No flowers for the dead Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to No flowers for the dead book page.