No flowers for the dead - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading No flowers for the dead, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of No flowers for the dead.
Zurich was a blur of white marble, cold boardrooms, and glass walls pretending to be transparent.
Elias hadn’t slept since he left Alina.
The jet had been silent, the staff quiet and efficient. No one dared speak when his mood dipped to the ice-cold version of himself—the version that belonged to his father, to the Vale empire, and not to her.
He hated who he was without her. But being with her didn’t free him either. It only made the cage more visible.
The meeting was set in a private villa, snow dusting the black Mercedes that ferried him through the city. Inside, they were already waiting—his father, the board’s newest acquisition, and her: Elena Weybridge, the political heiress with royal blood and a name so heavy it could crush empires.
She was beautiful, in the way art was—flawless, cold, preserved in importance.
“Elias,” she said smoothly, her lips curving without warmth. “You look tired.”
He nodded once. “It’s been a long week.”
“Marriage proposals tend to drain the soul,” she replied, swirling the wine in her hand.
His father cleared his throat. “Let’s not waste time. Elias, Elena. You’ve known each other since the academy. This alliance is necessary. Clean. Powerful.”
Elias didn’t flinch. He knew this script by heart. It had been prepared the moment he was born.
“Elena is willing to be… discreet,” his father added.
And there it was.
They weren’t just offering a marriage—they were offering terms. A contract. One that allowed him to keep Alina hidden, as long as the public crown belonged to someone worthy.
The silence dragged too long.
Elias stood, slow and controlled. “Excuse me.”
He left the room before anyone could stop him.
Out in the snowy garden, he lit a cigarette—his only vice now that Alina had begged him to stop drinking after his third blackout. The cold bit at his jaw, wind lacing through his hair.
His phone buzzed.
Alina:
Just made soup. Not poison this time. Probably.
He exhaled a laugh, texted back one word:
Tempting.
And suddenly, the idea of returning to her was the only real thing in his world.
He didn’t want Elena.
He didn’t want this legacy.
He didn’t want a name carved into stone if it meant losing the only warmth he’d ever known.
Back in the room, his father eyed him like a hawk. “You’re not a boy anymore, Elias. Stop acting like one.”
“No,” he said, calmly. “I’m not a boy. I’m a man who’s in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to touch. And I did. And I’ll keep doing it.”
His father’s voice dropped. “She will never be one of us.”
“She was never trying to be.”
The room went still.
And Elias knew he had made a choice that couldn’t be unmade.
⸻
Across the sea, Alina stood in front of the penthouse mirror, brushing her hair in long, slow strokes. She felt it—that ache in her chest. The one that always came when the distance between them was more than just miles.
She stared at her reflection, whispering into the quiet:
“Don’t break this time.”
But somewhere deep inside, she knew—
Something already had.
Elias hadn’t slept since he left Alina.
The jet had been silent, the staff quiet and efficient. No one dared speak when his mood dipped to the ice-cold version of himself—the version that belonged to his father, to the Vale empire, and not to her.
He hated who he was without her. But being with her didn’t free him either. It only made the cage more visible.
The meeting was set in a private villa, snow dusting the black Mercedes that ferried him through the city. Inside, they were already waiting—his father, the board’s newest acquisition, and her: Elena Weybridge, the political heiress with royal blood and a name so heavy it could crush empires.
She was beautiful, in the way art was—flawless, cold, preserved in importance.
“Elias,” she said smoothly, her lips curving without warmth. “You look tired.”
He nodded once. “It’s been a long week.”
“Marriage proposals tend to drain the soul,” she replied, swirling the wine in her hand.
His father cleared his throat. “Let’s not waste time. Elias, Elena. You’ve known each other since the academy. This alliance is necessary. Clean. Powerful.”
Elias didn’t flinch. He knew this script by heart. It had been prepared the moment he was born.
“Elena is willing to be… discreet,” his father added.
And there it was.
They weren’t just offering a marriage—they were offering terms. A contract. One that allowed him to keep Alina hidden, as long as the public crown belonged to someone worthy.
The silence dragged too long.
Elias stood, slow and controlled. “Excuse me.”
He left the room before anyone could stop him.
Out in the snowy garden, he lit a cigarette—his only vice now that Alina had begged him to stop drinking after his third blackout. The cold bit at his jaw, wind lacing through his hair.
His phone buzzed.
Alina:
Just made soup. Not poison this time. Probably.
He exhaled a laugh, texted back one word:
Tempting.
And suddenly, the idea of returning to her was the only real thing in his world.
He didn’t want Elena.
He didn’t want this legacy.
He didn’t want a name carved into stone if it meant losing the only warmth he’d ever known.
Back in the room, his father eyed him like a hawk. “You’re not a boy anymore, Elias. Stop acting like one.”
“No,” he said, calmly. “I’m not a boy. I’m a man who’s in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to touch. And I did. And I’ll keep doing it.”
His father’s voice dropped. “She will never be one of us.”
“She was never trying to be.”
The room went still.
And Elias knew he had made a choice that couldn’t be unmade.
⸻
Across the sea, Alina stood in front of the penthouse mirror, brushing her hair in long, slow strokes. She felt it—that ache in her chest. The one that always came when the distance between them was more than just miles.
She stared at her reflection, whispering into the quiet:
“Don’t break this time.”
But somewhere deep inside, she knew—
Something already had.
End of No flowers for the dead Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to No flowers for the dead book page.